Page 17 of Under the Lion Star

“You see how the gap between those is horse-sized?” A familiar, deep voice came from behind me.

I closed my eyes with a sigh, finding a bit of reprieve when the light dimmed as my brooding savior blocked out the sun from atop his horse. Opening my eyes slowly, I met his gaze with an unimpressed glare.

“Do you see how you’re not horse-sized?” He continued.

“That might be the nicest thing any man has ever said to me,” I batted my eyelashes dramatically.

We stared at each other for a few moments. His hair had been pulled back into a loose bun, several errant strands falling around his face and ears. He was dressed in simple clothing, but the quality of his boots and saddle betrayed him as wealthy.

He looked down at the ground, trying to hide his smirk, but realizing I had seen it, he let it show through. The smile I assumed he was incapable of creased the skin around his eyes as it crept up both sides of his face. He shook his head, huffing out an approximation of his laugh. I decided not to hold it against him. It had probably been a while since he last laughed. His technique needed work.

Sliding off his horse, the large elf motioned for me to move out of the way. My first instinct was to tell him to go fuck himself, but he had come to my rescue, so I figured I would let him play hero once more. The pain in my arms still throbbed, further muting the need to protest.

Stepping out of his way, I admired the tenderness he offered to his horse while guiding the hulking beast into position between the rungs of the cart. I also admired how his forearms flexed as he hoisted the cart, sliding the leather straps under his saddle over the wooden poles. His tongue peeked out behind white teeth as he worked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

He grunted as he tightened the straps, giving each a rough tug to test the security of his work. Then, nodding to himself, his eyes met mine. His fingers raked back through his hair, clearing away the loose strands slicked to his brow from the sheen of sweat he had worked up. The man tipped his head toward the roadway, turning and walking alongside his horse, who was now hauling my supplies.

After a cursory check that I hadn’t drooled on myself, I took several quick strides until I ambled next to him. Wordlessly, we walked in a curious, but comforting silence. Both of us taking in our surroundings as opposed to making banal chatter with one another.

A smile played across my lips as I watched the stranger run his palm over the tops of the wheat stalks the same way I often did. Somewhere underneath that hardened exterior was an elf with mysteries I wanted to unravel.

“Left up here,” I said, pointing toward the intersection ahead of us. “And uh, thanks. For the other evening.”

An affirming grunt was his only response.

The silence persisted, allowing me to continue carefully perusing the man. He often patted his horse’s neck in a way that suggested this wasn’t a random steed he found inside a stable. Over his shoulder, he checked the cart's contents several times to ensure everything was still secure. I also noted how he was hyper-aware of our surroundings, as if danger lurked between the rows of wheat.

“You’re a soldier then, I assume?” I finally spoke.

His head turned as his eyes found mine, narrowing as if trying to determine some hidden meaning in my statement. If he were looking for ulterior motives, he would be disappointed. I couldn’t help but ponder the sort of life that led to someone being so suspicious and guarded.

“Aye,” he breathed the word out with a sigh.

“Are you glad to be home?” I pressed hesitantly.

The man stared at his feet as we continued our pace. Eventually, he looked out over the horizon toward the Skolas mountain range.

“Yeah.”

“Not a terribly convincing answer,” I nudged him with my shoulder.

He smirked, but it was hollow. A gesture offered to alleviate any sympathy I might garner toward the man. I hated it.

We walked for a few more minutes before the path to my grandmother’s house came into view. My sisters and I had painted the siding several years prior, but the white paint had faded to a dull yellow over time. Stains from water that leaked from the gutter marred the side of the home, and the overgrown plant life added to the unkempt appearance. The house had been a safe space for my family for our entire lives, and the evidence of disrepair made me feel that I had failed to care for my grandma as she had done for us.

“That house,” I pointed.

The stranger frowned at me and opened his mouth to speak, but we were immediately interrupted by a loud shriek and the creaking of stairs under Grandma’s boots.

“El! I was wondering if you planned to return,” she beamed at the elf, who I had just learned was named El. “Oh, and I see you’ve met my granddaughter, Zialda. She’s quite single, you know.”

“Grandma,” I groaned, questioning why the word quite was necessary.

I pressed my palms into my eye sockets, refusing to look at El, who I’m sure was absolutely loving this interaction.

“Hush, you,” she chided before looking to El with stars in her eyes. “And you brought more supplies! What a gentleman.”

“I got the supplies. How do you two even know each other?”

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