Chapter 3
Lark
The campfire crackles warmly against the wintry forest surroundings, welcoming us back to our campsite. A pair of whippoorwills coo a welcome from above.
“How’d it go, Lark?” Katja asks, rising to greet us with a flutter of lavender wings. As the second-eldest in my charge, she stayed behind with baby Eevi while the rest of us went to work.
This morning was a lucrative performance that went off without a hitch, so we’re returning in high spirits. I let the smiles and excited chatter of the others answer for me, and only move in to ruffle Eevi’s dark curls and relish in her giggles. She’s always happiest when we’re all around.
With the laughter and shouts of my little acting troupe filing in behind me, it’s easy to forget my worries for a moment. Seeing my family happy is all I need. Plus, we just earned enough coin to ease the weight on my shoulders temporarily.
The fire’s golden glow spills over the snow-dappled clearing, even as a bitter wind whips through the trees, shaking loose icicles that tinkle through the boughs. But here in our camp, surrounded by joyful kids, the cold feels distant.
Part of me is always on alert, always guarded.
It’s impossible not to be between this harsh climate, who I am, and the young lives in my protection.
Right now though, we’re untouchable. Victors, ready to feast on our spoils.
Even the nearby wildlife pick up on the festive mood, chittering and crowing along with us.
"Did you see the look on his face?" Helkki cackles, her wild scarlet hair flying. “How dare you!” she bellows in a mock-deep voice, puffing her chest to mimic the Point Fae huntsman.
Juani bursts into laughter. “And then he tripped on his own boots when he couldn’t see who swiped his sword! Utter perfection.”
Johannes grins at his twin brother, his laugh thwarted by a sudden sneeze from the smoke tickling his nose. His red-rimmed eyes gleam with amusement above the scarf he uses to stifle more sneezing.
Mikael, the eldest, brings up the rear, silently guiding young Aili in front of his hulking form.
Seeing five-year-old Aili actually smiling for a change is a glorious reminder of why I do this.
Well, that and the coin we just earned. I hadn't planned to take her, but who can resist those big teal eyes that match her hair?
So I compromised by keeping her with me where I could be sure she stayed safe.
“I threw fireballs,” Aili tells Katja, her voice bright with glee. “I scared all the big men.”
The fireballs may have been small, but with my illusion magic to enhance them, the tiny childling on my shoulders absolutely terrified full-grown Point Fae today. I’m beaming with pride.
Helkki looks up to me. “Lark, did you see me with the carriage door?”
I nod, proud of her fleet-footed maneuvers. Her masking magic has really come along. I was only able to follow her today thanks to my ability to see through illusions.
“You were fantastic, Hellion.” I lean back against a tree just outside the ring of firelight. I rarely get moments just to relax and enjoy life with them all. It’s a lot of work caring for seven orphans. Shocking, I know. “Be careful you don't earn a reputation as a thief.”
Helkki and the twins are the middle three of my seven little beasties.
Juani and Johannes look out for each other, so I try to remember to single Helkki out for one-on-one chats sometimes so she doesn’t feel forgotten.
Although the little spitfire does plenty on her own to gain attention, and not always the good kind. Today, though, she was amazing.
“Thieves get rich,” Helkki quips with a devilish grin. “I could have robbed that Pointy princess. She almost ran me over!”
“Princess?”
“Yeah, the one from the sleigh.”
“She ran past you? Into the woods?” I was so focused on my illusions on the road, I suppose I could have missed someone fleeing.
“Yeah,” Helkki confirms. “Like a scared rabbit!”
My head swivels automatically, like a princess is about to appear in our midst from the frozen forest. Ridiculous.
There’s only a snow fox, come to sniff at our food.
I’m not sure why a princess would run from her guards, but that’s her problem.
She’s Point Fae royalty. I’m sure she’s already back in a warm palace, getting lavished with attention for her close call with so-called bandits. It’s above my pay grade.
“Our job was to put on a show, nothing else. Speaking of riches,”—I pull the purse from my belt—“we have some of our own after that. Fairly earned, I might add.” I toss a pointed look at Helkki. We do what we need to in order to survive, but I’m not raising criminals.
The sound of the coins jingling is like a spell. Every pair of eyes snaps to me. “You know what this means…”
The camp erupts in cheers and shouts, everyone talking over each other.
“An inn,” Katja declares, “for at least a sennight!”
“Real beds!” Juani exclaims, rolling onto his back and flailing his arms in the snow.
“Indoors!” adds Johannes with another sneeze.
“Hot food that isn’t burned on the bottom!” cries Helkki.
“Hey!” I object with a laugh
“An actual shower.” Katja gives a longing groan.
Aili pipes up from where she’s sitting at my feet, “Can I have my own room?”
When I give her a look of “What do you think?” she crosses her little arms and pouts, glaring daggers at the snow as if it’s responsible for her misfortunes. “It’s not fair. Why can’t I ever have my own anything?”
“Because we’re a family, and families share, even with grumpy little girls,” I tease, ruffling her hair. She swats my hand away with a huff but doesn’t argue further.
“Can we buy a castle?” Helkki’s excitement is loud enough to wake the slumbering trees and scare off the fox.
“Sure,” I say, tossing the purse up and catching it again. “As long as it’s made of snow, has only one room, and comes with no charms or plumbing.”
The kids laugh, and even Mikael chuckles. I’d be lost without Mika and Katja’s help with the younglings. Mika’s coming of age is creeping up all too soon, but I push the wriggling worry over his leaving us aside. One thing at a time, and right now, we’re celebrating.
Eevi, perched on Mika’s knee, claps her tiny hands and giggles, not understanding, but enjoying the excitement all the same.
When she sees me looking, her little hands reach out, her dark curls bouncing around that angelic face full of trust. I scoop her up, spinning her in a quick circle that makes her squeal in delight.
She’s warm in my arms, even with her tiny nose red from the cold.
My smile broadens when she tugs at a lock of pale-ash hair that escaped my hat.
“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 spend most of 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 each other. 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.