Page 9 of Midwinter Wiles & Valerian Dreams
“Does anyone need patching up?” Katja asks.
“Nah, Doc, we’re too good for injuries,” gloats Juani.
“One of these days, Juho…” Kat threatens vaguely, but seems happy to be left without first-aid duties so she can return to whatever book she’s reading today.
I glance at Mika, quiet as ever, but there’s pride in the way he watches the younger ones tumble over each other as they gather bowls and food. He catches my eye and gives me a small nod. It means more than I’ll let on. He deserves to go chase his own dreams soon, but,storms, I’ll miss him.
I was fifteen when Mika arrived at the orphanage, eight years old and terrified. Only Kat has been with me longer, since she was dropped on our doorstep as a baby several years prior. For nearly a decade, we did a lot of growing up together in that place under Frederik’s patient direction. When the man who raised us died, and then we lost the orphanage not long after, I was the only one old enough to keep us together. There was never a question in my mind; I was going to do whatever it took.
As the kids settle down around the fire to eat the simple breakfast Katja prepared while we were out, I release a slow breath. For once, I don’t have to stress about where our next meal is coming from. We’re okay. Not great, not perfect, but safe and together. And for now, that’s enough.
I shift Eevi to one hip, raising my free hand to toss the purse to Katja. “You’re in charge of our funds. As always.”
She barely looks up from her book. “Good. You lot would spend it all on shiny nonsense.”
“Excuse you,” I retort, a hand over my heart. “We would only spendmostof it on shiny nonsense. There’s a difference.”
“Shiny nonsense won't keep us warm, fed, or alive,” she deadpans.
“Shiny nonsense is how we get paid!” Helkki argues, taking a bite of bread big enough to choke a wildcat. “Thaff what makff a good ffeatre troupe. Glitff and glamors!”
“Swallow, Hellion,” Katja scolds, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
“See, Helkki gets it. She’s totally my favorite right now.” I toss a wink at the ten-year-old. “But fine, save us from ourselves, oh wise one. We wouldn’t want to do something frivolous like buying trinkets and castles instead of food and shoes.”
“Shoes,” Aili mutters, scowling at her worn boots as if they’ve offended her. “I want new shoes.”
“We’ll get you some,” I promise, deciding on the spot to get her something new for once. No hand-me-downs. Kat will agree, right? “Yup, new shoes. Sturdy ones with thick soles. Maybe even enough room for your toes to wiggle.” I tickle the little girl’s side and get a grimace out of her.
“Fine, Grumpy gets new shoes,” Katja allows, rummaging through the purse and tallying coins. “We should all get new shoes and warm cloaks. No more half-frozen toes or frost-bitten ears.”
“Good,” Mikael says, his voice a low rumble. He shrugs when we all turn to look at his rare pronouncement, his cheeks reddening at the attention. “I don’t like the little ones looking cold.”
His words hang in the air, a reminder of the never-ending winter pressing in around us. Our lives aren’t simple, and trouble is always one mishap away, but at least we have eachother. The fire crackles bravely against snow and ice, fighting back the cold to embrace our little family in warmth.
Moments like this give me the strength to keep fighting.
Look at them: laughing, teasing, filling their bellies, feeling safe and loved. It’s no wonder I couldn’t bear to lose these kids. They’re so bonded to each other, the thought of them being torn apart by some soulless agency who would scatter them across the realm, never to see each other again, is intolerable. Their smiles remind me why I keep going, even when it feels like the world’s against us.
“So, no castle?” Helkki asks, feigning disappointment and snapping me out of my thoughts.
“No castle,” I confirm with a grin. “But maybe—just maybe—we’ll find a nice, warm inn with beds that don’t squeak every time you squirm.”
“Can we go to the one we passed—the sleepy donkey one?”
“I think it was a lazy mule. Yes, Hellion, excellent plan. We’ll go to the one with the lazy mule. Priorities, right? It also had cute cottages that looked like they’d fit us all. Deal?”
“Deal,” they all echo, voices blending together in a harmony that sounds suspiciously like hope.
Our troubles are still at our heels, and I still have a fight ahead of me to keep us together. But for now, we have food in our bellies and a plan for tomorrow. And that’s enough.
Chapter 4
Talvie
“Lumi scouted ahead,” the little moon says, but I’m too busy staring at a nightmare to respond. “The town up there has an inn—The Laisi Mula. Valkie should head there, find shelter. Maybe bathe.”
It’s a good thing she can’t actually smell me, because the only thing worse than how I smell after days on the run is how I look in this reflection. This can’t be real.
