Page 39 of Obsidian Prince

"Your son's name is Simon?" Liliana looked at the tiny lion-kin. The brown-haired boy glared back at her over his thumb stuck in his mouth.

"I thought you would want to meet him. He's named after my great-grandfather. My grandfather used to tell me stories that I thought he made up. But after what you told me the other day ..." she smiled. "Well, it seems likely that we're related."

"What was your grandfather's name?" Liliana asked.

"Petros Simonson."

"Oh." Liliana blinked as her human eyes watered. "He was my youngest brother." The spider seer extended a hand to the boy. "I am honored to meet you, little nephew. You have my father's name. It is a lot to live up to."

The toddler looked at her hand for a moment, then up at his mother who nodded encouragingly. He pulled his thumb out of his mouth long enough to squeeze Liliana's hand.

The little boy's hand was slick with saliva and possibly some snot.

Liliana wiped her hand on her skirt. Hopefully, the boy would gain better sanitary habits when he got older. "Was there anything else?" she asked Marilyn. "I am in pain. I would like to lie down."

"Of course. I'm sorry. It's just that we have our lives back because of you and well, we didn't even pay you."

Liliana gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I did not want another unworthy king of lions in Fayetteville. I am pleased that Daniel is king. He will be a good king. I am pleased I was able to help. I would like to lie down now."

"Right. Of course. But here." Marilyn set the duffel bag inside Liliana's door.

Liliana looked inside the bag with her fourth eyes. Money. The bag was full of transferable pay cards, many of them, some marked with large denominations. "Why are you giving me a bag full of money?"

"Andrew Periclum, the previous king, paid Tray a lot for ... for enforcement, I guess. Tray always hid that money away. He called it his retirement plan. Mostly, I think he was hiding it from the IRS. I didn't want any of that money, so I put it all in when we took up a collection to pay the Celtic wolf. The pride donated the rest. Everyone who didn't want Tray to be the next king, even the ones who weren't brave enough to say so in front of the pride, put in as much as they could afford. I thought you should have it."

"Why?"

"Well, you said we should pay you what we thought was fair. For what you did, for me, for Simon, for the whole pride, this isn't nearly enough. We owe you the rest of our lives, but ..." She shrugged. "This is what we have to give. Everyone trusted Arel, Kazi and me to use the money to help the pride. We think you should have it."

"Okay. I am going to lie down now."

Marilyn smiled. "You look like you could use some rest. Thank you, again."

"You're welcome." It was the correct social response, but it didn't feel right. For what she had done, the big bag of money was fair, yes, but at the same time, being paid made it clear to Liliana that the lions thought of her as an outsider. She’d been paid to do them a service. A pride-child serving her pride was not usually paid.

Yet, Marilyn and little Simon were her brother Petros' descendants. The pride was her family. She was now the pride-king's champion as well. She expected Daniel to give her duties once she recovered from the fight.

Getting paid like a hired hand hurt in a different way than her bruises and her broken arm. Clearly, they didn’t want a spider in the lion-kin pride.

She watched Marilyn and little Simon get back in the big SUV with Kazi driving.

Liliana blinked tears as they pulled away. Forgetting for the moment about her throbbing ankle, she stared after the car long after it disappeared.

Her fourth eyes and her memory both filled with a vision of the time she’d fallen from the trapeze as a child. She’d bounced too high on the net below. It threw her to the hard-packed dirt where she broke her arm, rather like it was broken now.

Her father dropped down onto the net, bounced perfectly, did a neat flip over the edge, and landed lightly next to her. “Let me see.”

“It hurts.” She sobbed, cradling her injury.

Her father engulfed her with his powerful arms. That warm, smelly place with her face buried in his sweaty leotard was safer than anywhere else in the world.

“I know it hurts,kardoula mou.But you are so very brave to want to fly with your family in the act. Sometimes, it hurts to reach for what you want most.”

He stroked her hair for a while as her tears and snot mixed with the sweat on his chest. After the storm died down a bit, he said gently, “Maybe you should wait a few years until you get bigger.”

Liliana sniffled. Her tiny face scrunched in frustration. Sometimes words wouldn’t come when she was this upset. While pain tried to make her mute, her anger forced words out in a tumble. “Other people get bigger. I’m always small. If I wait to get big, I’ll never do anything. I want to fly with you. I don’t care. This will heal.”

Simon of Nemea smiled down on her with such pride and love that his aura in her third eyes glowed like the blue-white heart of a welding fire.

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