Page 80 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

“Do all of you know what to do if someone is mean to you? If they hurt you?” Greyva asks, making eye contact with each and every child.

The children all nod, and as a group, they call out, “If it’s a kid, tell a grown up. If it’s a grown up, tell our parents. If it’s one of our parents, tell you.”

She smiles. “Very good, children. It’s an important lesson to remember.” Her expression darkens as she leans back in her chair. “Unfortunately, our poor hero had no one he could tell when the man who claimed to be his father hurt him. Or when he watched him hurt his poor mother.

“Then, one night when our hero was nearly to his fifth year, the man had raised his hand, attempting to strike his mother yet again. But instead, that same hand stopped in midair before slamming back into the man’s face instead.”

All of the children begin to giggle, Stephan among them. I admit, that particular bit is pretty amusing. If you can ignore the part about the man being an abusive piece of shit and solely focus on the mental image of him punching himself…

Old Greyva waits for everyone to settle back down before looking back over to me and Vannaria with a look of concern. I glance at the elf as well, noticing she’s gritting her teeth, and her eyes are now bright red. Rayne.

“Are you alright?” I whisper, lightly bumping my shoulder against hers.

“Peachy,” she grumbles, not taking her eyes off our storyteller. “Just wishing she’d hurry and get to the good part already.”

No doubt having heard the comment, Greyva chuckles. “Ah. So, after the man’s fist collided with his own face, he was so taken aback that he forgot all about his anger. The boy, however, did not. He walked right up to his would-be father and said ‘if you ever attempt to lay a hand on either of us again, you will sorely regret it.’”

“If I was that kid, I woulda–”

Six different children cut Rayne off by hissing, “Shh!”

Ignoring them all, Old Greyva leans forward in her chair, lowering her voice a bit. “What neither of the adults had realized was that all of the atrocities he’d witnessed, and lived through, had caused our poor hero’s soul to fragment. Where there should have only been one soul in his small body, there were five. Each with a different set of skills that allowed them to endure it all. To survive.”

My elven companion’s eyes slowly fade back to that same brown, their shoulders relaxing as they lean back against the cushion behind us. Then they start to turn faintly green. I hesitate a brief moment before resting my head back on their shoulder, hoping that Aren won’t mind.

Greyva’s eyes meet mine and her lips twitch in the hint of a smile before she looks away again. “And survive they did. From that day on, the man heeded the warning, slowly becoming the father and husband he should’ve been all along. It didn’t make up for his past actions, but it was enough that when our hero came of age, he and all his mental companions felt it was safe to leave their mother at home and venture out into the world.”

A girl, likely in her early teen years, raises her hand. “Mrs. Greyva, can we take a short break? I need to use the toilet.”

“Of course, child.” She nods, standing up from her rocking chair with a groan. “You all can have ten minutes to go to the toilet and help yourself to the snacks I left out for you on the table. But, make sure you’re back in time…” Her eyes drift over to Aren. “We have royalty joining us today, and I’m sure they’re eager to see how the story ends.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Aren

Every single child turns and stares at us, wide-eyed and jaws hanging open in shock. It seems none of them had paid attention when we’d first introduced ourself yesterday. And I suppose it’s also quite possible they’d all been in bed by the time we’d joined last night’s celebrations. But regardless…

“Are you a princess?” a scrawny half-orc boy asks, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

I grimace, unconsciously pressing myself further into Mariane’s side. “Ah. No, I’m not. I was, however, a prince. But that was many years ago, we–”

“But you’re a girl.” A redheaded human girl beside him points an accusatory finger at me. “Girls are supposed to be princesses.”

This is what I get for not wishing to alarm the children by activating our glamour.

Mariane lifts her head off my shoulder, leaning toward the little girl. “Girls can be whatever they want to be. And it’s also not nice to assume a stranger is a boy or a girl without asking first.” She turns to me, roaming her eyes over my face for a moment before nodding decisively. “Right now, this is Aren. Instead of feeling as if they’re a girl or a boy, they identify as neither.”

“Oooh,” both children whisper at the same time, nearly causing me to laugh.

“Tick-tock, children,” Old Greyva calls out, clapping her hands together to gather the group’s attention.

Shockingly, it works. All of the children leap to their feet, half of them gathering around a large dining table, and the rest disappearing down a hallway towards what I assume to be the toilet.

Realizing I’m still holding onto Mariane’s hand, I quickly let go, not wanting her to feel as if I’m taking advantage of her and Vannaria’s relationship in any way. Or intruding on it. She frowns slightly, glancing down at her now empty hand. For a moment, it seems as if she’s about to say something, but she remains silent, leaning against the armrest of the couch and putting a bit more distance between us.

I suddenly feel as though I’ve made a mistake. Perhaps I should have…

“Aren.” At the sound of my name, my eyes snap to the old woman. Her brows are furrowed slightly, and she darts a glance at the nearby children before gesturing towards the front door. “May I have a word with you?”