Chapter 207

The hunting party returned at midday, and the whole village knew it before they even arrived.

Word spread fast on the island, carried by the runners who had gone ahead, the children who had raced through the trees to watch. The champions were returning. The biggest catch of the season. And the names on everyone’s lips were my sons.

Atlas. Ryder.

I heard it first from Levy, who burst into the house, her black hair flying, her dark eyes bright with excitement. "Mama! Mama, Atlas and Ryder are coming back! They caught the biggest boar! Everyone is talking about it! Everyone!"

I set down the pup I had been holding and rose, my heart swelling with pride. Atlas and Ryder. My oldest and my second. They had gone out with the hunting party that morning, their first true hunt as young adults, their first chance to prove themselves. And they had not just proven themselves. They had dominated.

By the time we reached the shore, a crowd had gathered. The hunters were coming in, and at the front, standing tall and proud, were my sons. Atlas held the massive boar by its tusks, his golden hair blowing in the wind, his amber eyes bright with triumph. Beside him, Ryder carried the other end, his grin wide, his body streaked with mud and blood and the unmistakable glow of victory.

They were magnificent. They were heroes. And they were mine.

"Mama!" Atlas called out the moment he spotted me, dropping the boar and sprinting toward me like a child half his size. He caught me in a hug so fierce it lifted me off my feet, his laughter ringing in my ear. "Mama, did you see? Did you see what we caught? The biggest one of the season! The elders said it was the biggest in years!"

"I saw," I laughed, holding him tight, breathing in the smell of sweat and earth and boyish pride. "I saw, my love. You were magnificent."

Ryder arrived a moment later, equally eager, equally joyful, pulling me into a second hug the moment Atlas released me. "Did you hear the crowd, Mama? They were cheering for us! For us! The elders said we have the strength of the pride in us!"

"You do," I said, cupping his face, my eyes burning. "You have the strength of the pride and the courage of your fathers. I am so proud of you both. So proud."

Jasper and Chase arrived next, their own catches smaller but respectable, their expressions a mix of pride and sibling rivalry. "It was a good catch," Jasper admitted, slinging an arm around Ryder’s shoulders. "But we could have caught a bigger one. If we had gone further out. If we had had more time."

"Sure you could have," Ryder said, grinning.

"We could have," Chase insisted. "We just chose not to. Out of respect. To let you win."

Atlas laughed, pulling his brothers into a rough, joyful tangle of limbs. "Respect. Is that what we are calling it now?"

Behind them, quieter, came Lark.

He carried the second biggest catch, a sturdy buck, its antlers wide and impressive. It was a fine kill, a worthy one, but it had been overshadowed by the monstrous boar my sons had brought down. Lark did not seem to mind. He walked with his head high, his expression proud, and when he reached Atlas and Ryder, he clasped their shoulders in genuine congratulation.

"That was a hunt to remember," he said, his voice warm. "Well done, both of you. Truly."

"Thanks, Lark," Atlas said, grinning. "You were not so bad yourself."

"I was terrible," Lark admitted. "But I had good teachers."

He glanced toward Levy, who was watching from the edge of the crowd, and something flickered in his eyes. But Levy was looking at the boar, at her brothers, at anything and everything except him, and Lark’s small sigh was almost lost in the noise.

I caught it, though. I caught everything.

Rhonda appeared then, pushing through the crowd with the easy authority of a mother who had raised warriors of her own. She went straight to Lark, her hand finding his cheek, her sharp eyes soft.

"You did well," she said, her voice carrying. "Second biggest catch. That is no small thing."

Beside her, her other mate, Thomas, stood tall and steady, his hand resting on his son’s shoulder. "We are proud of you," he said. "Both of you too." He smiled at my sons, "This was a fine hunt."

Rhonda patted Lark’s cheek, then turned and kissed Thomas, a quick, affectionate press of lips that made Lark roll his eyes and grin. "You both did great," she told them, as though she were consoling them for catching smaller prey. "Truly. The second biggest catch is a worthy thing."

"We know, Mama," Lark said, laughing. "We are not sad. We are happy for Atlas and Ryder. They earned it."

But Rhonda was already fussing, already adjusting his tunic, already smoothing his hair, her mother’s heart unable to resist. And Lark, patient, enduring, let her, his eyes drifting once more toward Levy.

Who was still not looking at him.

Meanwhile, the village girls had gathered.

They stood in clusters near the shore, whispering and giggling, their eyes fixed on my four older sons with the kind of intense focus that made me nervous. There were so many of them. So many pretty young females, all of them noticing, all of them interested, all of them hoping for a glance, a word, a smile.

I looked at my sons. Tall. Strong. Golden. Streaked with the blood of their kill, their muscles still taut from the hunt, their laughter bright and careless. They were handsome. Devastatingly handsome. And they had just proven themselves as hunters, as providers, as males worthy of any female’s attention.

"Can I handle this?" I murmured to myself.

"What was that?" Ravin asked, appearing at my elbow.

"Nothing," I said. "Just... realizing that my sons are going to be very popular."

Ravin looked at the girls, at the way they watched his sons, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Yes," he agreed. "They are."

"And they have no idea," I said.

"None," Ravin confirmed.

"And when they do figure it out..."

"Chaos," Ravin said. "Absolute chaos."

I sighed. But even as I sighed, Atlas and Ryder, Chase and Jasper broke away from the crowds and came toward me, their faces bright, their eyes eager, their joy undiminished by the attention they had attracted.

"Mama," Atlas said, reaching for my hand. "Come see the boar. Come see what we caught. We want to show you."

I let them lead me, my heart full, my sons on either side, the crowd parting before us. And for this moment, this perfect moment, they were mine. Not the village’s, not the girls’, not the future’s.

Mine.

At last for now.

---

The island threw a celebration.

Of course they did. It was the biggest catch in years, the kind of hunt that would be talked about for seasons to come, and the island was not about to let the moment pass without a feast and a fire and a whole lot of noise. The boar was roasted over a massive pit, its scent filling the air with smoke and salt and something rich and savory that made everyone’s mouths water. Tables were dragged out. And by evening, the whole village had gathered on the beach, laughing and feasting and celebrating under the stars.

And I, in a moment of foolish ambition, decided to dress my daughters.

I had been working on the dresses for weeks. It had taken forever, the cloth soft and fine, the stitching delicate, the design simple but elegant, the kind of thing that would make my girls look like the little princesses they were. Levy, Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira. My daughters. My beautiful, ethereal, impossibly lovely daughters.

I had finally finished. And now, finally, I would get to dress them.

"Mama, it is so pretty," Levy breathed, twirling in a slow circle, the pale cloth fluttering around her.

"You look beautiful," I said, my heart swelling with pride. "All of you. Absolutely beautiful."

They did. Gods, they did. All four of them in the same soft cloth I had worked for weeks, the natural cream color of the undyed linen, simple and beautiful. Levy’s black hair hung loose and shining against it. Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira’s green hair flowed like water, their emerald eyes luminous, a striking contrast against the pale fabric. They looked like something out of a dream, like princesses from some distant kingdom, like the most beautiful children in the entire world.

And then I brought them to the celebration, and the males of my family lost their minds.

Leon spotted them first. He had been laughing with Ravin, a piece of roasted boar in his hand, his face relaxed and easy. Then his eyes found his daughters, and his jaw actually dropped.

"You girls cannot go out looking like that," he blurted out, his voice carrying.

Soryn turned, saw his daughters, and immediately joined in. "No. No, my daughters are too young to be wearing something so distracting. Look at them. Look at them. They are practically glowing."

Ravin, my calm, unshakeable Ravin, stared at his daughter for a long moment, then turned to me with an expression of profound concern. "Krys," he said, his voice carefully measured, "I think these clothes are too much for our daughters. they looks... they looks like women. Like grown women. They are one year old. What is happening."

I rolled my eyes. "I worked hard on these dresses," I said, my voice firm. "I finally get to dress my daughters. You lot should relax. They look beautiful. End of discussion."

They did not relax. They looked, if anything, more stressed. But they said nothing more, and we joined the celebration, and for a brief, blissful moment, I thought I had won.

Then we reached the fire, and my sons saw their sisters.

Atlas looked. Then Chase. Then Ryder. Then Jasper. All four of them, my golden boys, my oldest sons, mirrors of their father, went absolutely rigid.

"Levy," Atlas said, his voice flat. "You cannot go out looking like that."

"What?" Levy demanded, her hands on her hips. "What is wrong with it?"

"You look... you look..." Atlas gestured vaguely, clearly struggling. "You look grown up. You look like a girl. Like a girl that boys would look at."

"I am a girl," Levy said, baffled. "What else would I look like?"

"A cub," Jasper said. "You should look like a cub. You do not look like a cub."

Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira, meanwhile, were being similarly accosted by their serpent brothers, who had surrounded them like a wall of green-haired, emerald-eyed guards.

"You are too pretty," Syren announced.

"Offensively pretty," Kaelor agreed.

"Go home and change," Rhyzar suggested.

"I love the dress Mama made," Elira said, lifting her chin. "I am not changing."

The four lion boys immediately turned their glares on the other boys in the village. The young males, the teenagers, the hunters, all of them, whoever had the misfortune to be caught stealing glances at my daughters. The glares were withering. They were protective. They were utterly, hopelessly infuriating.

And the girls, my beautiful, oblivious girls, did not notice a thing.

Levy was too busy showing off her dress to Mira. Seraya and her sisters were too busy dancing in the firelight, laughing at something only they understood. They had no idea that they had just launched a thousand silent wars, that every male between the ages of ten and the ones nearing their coming of age was currently having his intentions assessed and judged by my sons.

I watched it all, my family in full protective mode, my daughters in blissful ignorance, and I shook my head.

"Oh, boy," I murmured. "I momentarily forgot how pretty my daughters are."

And the celebration continued, the fire burning bright, the boar roasting, and my family, my beautiful, chaotic, overprotective family, standing guard over their sisters, their daughters, their hearts.

The girls played on, oblivious.

The boys glared on, relentless. And I watched, half amused, half terrified, knowing that this was only the beginning.