Page 2 of Under the Lion Star

“Alright, you little demons, let’s get going.”

The castle's spires were the first to appear on the horizon as we walked toward Galvord—rising over the stalks of wheat and signaling the approach to convenience and luxuries. As the capital of Fjorn, an elf could find anything they could ever dream of beyond the city gates.

Growing up in the countryside was nice, but I’d be lying if I denied fantasizing about living amongst the grandeur of Galvord. Aunt Stella had once had an apothecary shop within the shopping district, and I listened with the attention of a child being told a fairy tale when she’d regale us with the day-to-day differences that came with city life.

She’d moved to the farmlands when my mom had the twins. By then, Mom had been living as a single mother to Nima and myself. Adding Yunia and Lina to the mix meant she needed support beyond my grandma. I was grateful for my aunt’s choice, and she had never expressed a desire to move back, so I imagined she was, too.

The farmers who lived near us were always kind to my sisters and me, but they did little to hide their judgments toward my mother for having six children and no man in the house. Still, we were a part of the community and had relied on one another time and again.

With so many of the younger population of Fjorn away at war, my sisters and I often stepped in to help during the harvest. Minus Zara and Mera, of course, given they were too young to do much aside from wreaking havoc. My mother frequently prodded us to visit with the elderly elves, and I had once even assisted in delivering a foal. The camaraderie shared in the rural countryside was something my mother insisted couldn’t be found in Galvord, even if all manner of material goods could be.

Nima, the second oldest, held the twins’ hands as we meandered through the busy streets. The workers lighting the streetlamps smiled at us when we passed, as did a few vendors in the market, but for the most part, we were largely ignored. It was something I noticed every time we ventured into the city. No one stopped and asked after your relatives or wanted to discuss how long it had been since we last saw rain.

I kind of loved it.

Going unnoticed, surrounded by people who weren’t privy to my backstory, held a certain appeal. No one around us knew that I was average at best in school. None of them knew that I had no plan for my future. And the best part was that none of them would care. They were all so wrapped up in their own worlds that my sisters and I were just background noise like everyone else sharing the sidewalks with us.

Zara was cradled to my chest and had been uncharacteristically agreeable for most of our outing. My other hand had a firm grip on Mera, who, at four, was prone to darting toward anything that caught her attention with little concern about her safety.

“How much money do we have left?” Nima asked. “It’s getting late, so we should get pastries now if we want them.”

“Pasties!” Mera tugged on my hand, jostling me enough that Zara’s eyes popped open briefly before mercifully drifting closed.

“We’ve got a few feldor left,” I replied, taking a mental tally of what we had already spent. “Just don’t let me forget to grab Mom something before we leave. She was so anxious earlier.”

“It’s a waste,” Lina sighed. “She always gets the junk filled with fruit.”

“She says fruit makes it healthy,” Yunia frowned at her twin.

“That’s absurd,” Nima scoffed.

My grandma liked to say that Nima was fourteen going on four hundred. I had to agree.

We sat around the wrought iron table outside the bakery entrance while Nima ordered. Yunia and Lina bickered over who deserved the privilege of sitting in the unbalanced chair but being the oldest meant I’d learned to pick and choose my battles. This wasn’t it.

Men and women dressed in finery beyond anything I could ever hope to own walked past our table. I often imagined that one of them might be my father or one of my sisters’. Would any of them recognize us? Would I get a flash of silver eyes and know in my bones that it was my dad? Would I see a man with pink hair peeking out from under his cap and be able to discern if he was Nima’s father?

They all paid us no mind, even as Nima divvied out our fruitless desserts and was sucked into the argument about who most resembled the princess of their favorite story. I focused on Zara, keeping my mouth shut even though I knew I most resembled said princess.

A group of men passed by, donned in the armor that marked them as soldiers. I wondered how long they would be on leave before returning to the battlefield. How many humans had they killed, and how many friends had they lost?

The war with the humans in the southern country of Krannar had begun when I was only ten. I didn’t understand the politics of the situation, given my mom had tried to shield us from negative news, but it appeared that even after six years, there was no end in sight.

From what I had learned in school, the human king, Morlan, had destroyed Fjorn’s second-largest city. Haerbor had been inhabited by thousands of elves, most of whom lost their lives when the humans attacked. Based on the amount of people who milled about the streets of Galvord, I could only imagine the scale of death and destruction.

The Fjornish king and queen responded quickly, and since then, I always heard about one of the territories around the Garam Sea changing hands from humans to elves and back again.

I wasn’t entirely sure what the end goal was. No amount of human suffering or stolen towns could bring back the people of Haerbor.

Even so, I said a few prayers to the Gods each night, asking them to look over the elven soldiers and return them home swiftly. And while I’d never admit it, I prayed for the humans, too. It was hardly their fault that their king was a madman. I chose to believe that humans were just as good as elves and that those who fought were only following orders as our soldiers were.

“I got Mom this gross berry tart,” Nima said, sliding the small twine-wrapped package toward me. “She’ll love it.”

The twins faked gagging, and I couldn’t help but laugh. My darkest secret was that I preferred fruit-based pastries, but it wasn’t worth being disowned by my siblings to reveal such heinousness.

I slid the tart into the bag with Zara’s supplies. It was well into the evening, leaving us over an hour to return home before sunset.

“Alright,” I stood, looking down to ensure that Zara was still asleep where I held her. “Let’s get going.”

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