Outside the Ethorian manor, there was a large gate. An old castle stood, reminding Aleksei of something from an old story. He gaped at the gardens inside the walls, wondering if he indeed was going to live at a small palace.
“Well,” he murmured to himself. “This is it.”
Once inside, there was a woman with pale skin and dark hair. She smiled warmly as she saw Aleksei. Aleksei resisted the urge to shrink away from the woman. Something about the place felt off to him.
The Ethorians weren’t his other step family, and it felt wrong to replace them. He wasn’t ready for that. His stepmother likely died a few weeks ago, and he hadn’t really had time to process the guilt. Nevertheless, he smiled. At least he could pretend he was happy.
“Welcome,” she said. “Aleksei, is it?”
Aleksei nodded. Suddenly, he felt more shy than he would have wished to admit. He shrank away from the woman. “And who may you be, Your Grace?”
“I am Lady Selythia,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid here. You are in good hands.”
“Can I meet the others here?” Aleksei asked. He wasn’t ready for it, but at least he could try to pretend. He had to keep up a facade lest the king or others become suspicious.
“We are going to have a welcoming feast for you,” Lady Selythia said. “but in the meantime, Tylvielle has been dying to meet you. She’s the youngest in the family, and she’s about your age right now. I’ll summon both her and Ildihor.”
Soon, a short elf bounded into the room, a bright smile on her face. “Welcome. I am Tylvielle. I am so excited to have you here.”
Aleksei nodded. “Thanks for the welcome. Perhaps you would like to help me pick out an outfit for the upcoming feast?”
Tylvielle beamed. “I would love to. I love anything regarding fashion. Can Cavrielle come? She’s only a year older than I am, so we get along really well.”
Aleksei grinned. Somehow, he felt less antsy around Tylvielle. She had a calm demeanor about her, and somehow, she seemed less threatening. Somehow, she reminded him of his friend, Tarvos. A deep sadness filled him.
A tall elf appeared. He gave a curt nod. “Welcome, Aleksei. I suppose we shall share living quarters. I am Ildihor, heir to the Ethorian manor.”
“I am Aleksei, Son of Orland,” Aleksei said. “It is an honor to meet you.”
Ildihor gave a short bow. “Likewise. I hear we are going to go shopping for clothing tomorrow?”
Aleksei nodded.
“I think with Tylvielle, Cavrielle, and I, you should be safe enough. But perhaps a short lesson in knife safety? Do you need it?” Ildihor asked.
“I was born a girl,” Aleksei said, grimacing. “They barely let me go with Tarvos for his first rites ceremony. Knives, hunting, and other things are not meant for women.”
A noticeable anger burned on Ildihor’s face. “Everyone should learn how to fight. Especially you, Aleksei. I am happy to teach you self defense before we leave.”
A deep happiness filled Aleksei. This had been what he wanted all along. Something about Ildihor seemed great, too. “I would be honored. How should I call you?”
Ildihor grinned. “Call me whatever you like. Preferably something nice, but my other siblings call me something worse and I don’t care too much. But alas.”
“Cavrielle and I will watch,” Tylvielle said. “Oh, Aleksei, we’re so happy to have you here.”
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