Page 7 of Under the Lion Star

“It’s a tactical choice,” she grinned, pulling up the first layer of her skirts to reveal the dozen or so pockets she’d had the twins sew into the fabric. Pockets that were filled with snacks.

“Gods above,” I laughed. “You’re the coolest sister.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she rolled her eyes and dropped her head back onto the mattress. “I want to look my best so I might find a husband among the newly returned soldiers.”

“You’re sixteen,” I protested.

“I’m putting in the groundwork now,” Mera smirked. “You’d be married already if you could speak to a man without being snarky.”

“I am not snarky,” I lied.

Mera shot me an unimpressed frown as she continued to eat her muffin.

It was difficult to be mad at the crumbs she was spilling all over the bed linens since I knew the cleaning staff would deal with it while we were out.

Staff. It was something that, even after twelve years, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around. I scanned my bedroom, still in amazement at how spacious it was. And the fact that I didn’t share it with anyone.

Two days after my mother’s death, Erik and Melna Helner had adopted all six of us. They were a highborn family and well off. So much so that the first thing they did was purchase a new home in the center of Galvord so that each of us could have our own space.

Erik was Lina and Yunia’s biological father, but it hadn’t taken him long to prove he was a father to all of us, even without blood to bind.

I fastened the laces on my linen pants and tugged the suede tunic over top. As much as I hated being awake at this hour, I was excited to hopefully see Atlas again. It’d been a year since his last leave, and while I knew he was alive from the letters he wrote to me and my sisters, I just needed to see him to make sure it was real.

Mera guided me down the stairs, stopping at the table to collect a bundle of wildflowers. I’d stopped inquiring long ago about the odd things she did. Mera always had a plan, even if no one else could discern what it was.

“Your father and sisters are outside,” my mother smiled brightly as we descended the stairs.

That’s why I hadn’t moved out. I thought to myself, unable to stop my own smile while basking in the warmth her presence always elicited.

Melna would never replace my mother, and she never tried. As far as I was concerned, I was just lucky enough to have two moms who adored me.

“Bring me back something sweet, will you?” She asked, kissing Mera on the cheek.

I gave a nod, trying to swallow down the emotion that seemed lodged in my throat. Panic made my limbs tingle, and my head swim. Pressing my eyes closed, I assured myself that the chance of coming home and finding my mom murdered—again—was infinitesimal.

Atlas’s assessment of grief had been more or less spot on. Thinking of my mother, especially of that day, still hurt more than I thought it should. In the last few years, the nightmares of when I found her had faded, but every so often, they would come back to me, stopping me in my tracks as if I was once again that sixteen-year-old girl.

Grandma and Aunt Stella had told the truth about her situation. Nima had been right; my mother blackmailed wealthy men with bastard children. I wanted to hate her for it. Sometimes I did. But she was as flawed as any elf, and with her gone, I had no use for anger. She gave me five sisters, and I wouldn’t have traded them for anything.

“They’re here,” Lina sighed as Mera and I walked down the stoop. “Let’s go.”

My father led us through the streets, making our way toward the parade route to welcome home the returning soldiers.

The celebration felt premature, given no one knew if the war was indeed over. The human king had been murdered by his own son. A week too late, though. King Morlan, before his death, had managed to get assassins into the castle of Galvord, and the King and Queen of Fjorn had been killed in their sleep.

That left both countries under new leadership, and after a somewhat controversial battle in the town of Keldsfen, where human citizens were killed, a tentative truce had been struck. I could only hope it persisted.

Krannar and Fjorn had been allies not that long ago. It didn’t seem farfetched to think we might be able to achieve that again.

“Alda, over here,” Zara waved to where she’d found an opening in the crowd.

My sisters and I piled in, allowing the younger ones up front to enjoy the view. Over my shoulder, I watched my father leaning against the wall of a shop, smiling at all six of us. He may have only sired Yunia and Lina, but he was our dad—all of us.

In the years that passed, I stopped trying to determine who my birth father was. It didn’t matter to me anymore. Erik Helner was more than enough.

The gates of the city creaked open, the large wooden doors groaning as they were pulled to reveal the awaiting procession. Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd. As I looked up and down the roadways of Galvord’s main thoroughfare, it seemed that every citizen had come to welcome home the men and women who’d fought for Fjorn.

Musicians filed in first, playing the Fjornish anthem. Some soldiers were on horseback, while others walked, but it never failed that a few would break from the lines, running toward the awaiting crowd and embracing their family members.

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