I rush over to a corner chamber pot to empty the meager contents of my stomach. Momma holds my hair back until it passes.

“I killed him, Momma.” My empty voice conveys a hundred emotions to my mother. To the one who knows me better than I know myself.

“Honey, if you hadn’t killed him, he would’ve killed us. I’m not sure what you did to him, but he was wishing for you to suffer. Look at me, hon.”

I force my empty stare away from the floor.

The compassionate and understanding love of my mother is what I see in her eyes. “The first life is a hard, hard thing. It takes a part of your soul. Only one who has taken a life truly knows the suffering and soul deep loss that comes. But right now, Ran needs you. Jack and Jill are downstairs with this man’s jajabos."—were it not for the direness of the situation, I would have laughed at Momma's use of hiney—"We have to be smart. We have to be brave. We have to make your father proud.” A line in her forehead creases in pain, and I know we both wish Pa were here.

I accept her words with a nod, even as I grow lightheaded from the adrenaline flushes throughout my system. She caresses my cheek and hands me a small, slightly stale teacake. “That’s my girl. Eat this before you pass out. You're white as a phantom menace.”

I nibble the cake, and it soothes my stomach. I take a larger bite, and Momma grins, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She's trying to hide her worry from me... but I see it in the way her eyes are drawn and weary, in the furrow of her brow, and how her smile is a little too wide to be real.

The cake is gone, and my hands have nothing left to occupy them before the coming fight. You'd think I'd be used to this... but not with my family. The stakes here are much too high.

Momma cradles me in her arms, kissing my hair. “Ruler of all, please guide and guard us during this time. Help us,” she whispers.

“Evermore and always,” I finish.

“Evermore and always,” Momma echoes.

Deep peace and strength fills my soul and pushes back the nagging doubt and self-loathing of the voice asking if I could’ve done differently. If I could’ve struck a non-fatal wound. But I know the truth. If I had done that... there would've been too many variables. He could've easily killed Momma or myself in a last ditch effort to live. He was strong, and I couldn't risk letting him live if it meant one of us must die.

“Thank you, My King,” I whisper. I feel his deep compassion and pride in... me. A smile tips my lips. Fire fills my eyes as I look up at Momma, who has her own sapphire fire blazing.

“Let’s do this,” we whisper together.

A grin that's a touch too big and devious grows her face, matched by my own.

Armed with the swords my father gave me, I give Momma back the small throwing knife that still holds the lifeblood of the man on the floor.

She takes it and pulls another from beneath her apron. She wasn’t always a flower growing, home keeping healer and mother.

Despite my love for knives, I never had the knack for them that Momma does. She can hit her target. I can’t. So I took to Pa's sword and bow training and allowed Momma to keep her throwing knives.

We dodge the creaky boards of the hallway outside my room. I catch Momma’s eye and smile. She returns a proud nod. Maybe I inherited something from her after all.

We crouch on the tiny balcony above our first floor. It's more a platform with boards around it to keep people from falling off.

The dining table is centered in the area below us. A tiny living area to the right consists of a rocking chair and old loom, plus a wooden couch made by Pa's hands beside the fireplace. The kitchen is farthest away to the left in an almost closet sized cubby, with its stove and window with its drying herbs swaying in the wind.

I can see Jack and Jill sitting at our dining table, chewing on cured pork that’s a few years old, judging by the blackened and tough edges.

My siblings cast suspicious glances over to the two men at the door.

I dub the blonde with a potbelly Goon One. The short and skinny black-haired dude I dub Goon Two. From here, there is not a good angle for Momma’s throwing knives, at least for a sure hit. The railing is too thick for a good throw. And if she stands, she risks them taking Jack or Jill hostage before she can take them both down.

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“I’ll draw them in. Be ready,” I whisper.

Momma pulls me in for a quick hug then shoos me away.

I quietly descend the steps, keeping the sword hidden behind my back. At the third step from the bottom, a board creaks.

The stairs empty into the dining area, so I paste a small smile on my face and wink at Jack and Jill before glancing with a vacant expression at the guards.

“Where am I? What happened?” I ask in a loud voice, then turn to Jack and Jill with a gasp. “Oh, honeys, you are safe? I had a horrible dream about bad men.”

Goon One looks at Goon Two, eyebrows raised. Goon Two shrugs. They step towards me, not drawing swords. I take that as a good sign.

“Uhhh… where is the… doctor?” Goon One with the blonde hair asks.

I scramble over to the dining table, giggling like a wild thing, careful to keep myself between my swords and the goons, who stand near the door.

“The good doctor? Momma is upstairs asking about my treatment. I need food,” I reply, giggling again, stumbling about as if drunk on fermented Eldertree sap.

Who knew I could act insane? Maybe I need to take a better look at my sanity if insanity is this easy.

The two pause, as if unsure what to make of that. But it's far enough. A knife sprouts in Goon One’s leg. It crumples beneath him and he goes down screaming.

Goon Two seems to smarten up and draws his sword. Before he can make his mind up to attack, I to stab my short-sword into his shoulder. I pull back, the flesh releasing the sword with a strange sucking noise. His eyes grow wide and he grunts, his mouth gaping in horror as he stares at the hole in his shoulder. A moment later, my shin meets his forehead. He falls, hitting the ground with a crunch that makes me wince.

I swing my sword's hilt into Goon One’s temple. The oversized fellow stops screaming as his eyes roll into his head and he joins his willow-like companion on the ground.

Momma takes the stairs three at a time and wraps my siblings in a deep embrace, blocking the sight of the goons with her body. Her grey hair flows around her face in a wild frenzy.

She pulls back. "Are you ok, hon?" She takes Jill's face in her hands.

Jill gives Momma a nod, even as her lip trembles.

"I'm fine. Thanks for askin'," the little rascal himself, Jack, pipes up.

Momma turns a stern glare on her son, but her lip twitches into a smile, ruining it.

"Get over here," she says, and Jack buries his nose in Momma's chest.

"What took so long?" Jack mumbles, his fists clenching in her grey dress.

Momma kisses the top of his head. "I came as soon as your sister woke."

"She can sleep like the dead," Jill mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear.

Jack grins at me. I roll my eyes. They don't seem too traumatized, the little traitors.

I wipe my sword off on Goon Two and stuff the shoulder wound still dribbling blood with a strip of his clothing. It wouldn't bother me if he bleeds out. I only care that I will be the one scrubbing the blood from the hard packed dirt, which is a pain in the behind.

The man doesn't so much as twitch. They aren’t going anywhere.

“You have become a combatant your father would be proud of,” Momma says, her face glowing as she watches me.

My cheeks flame at the praise, but I can’t focus on that now.

I turn to my siblings. “Do you know where Ran is?”

Jill nods. “They,” she says, shivering as she looks at the two laying on the floor, “m-mentioned something about her being held in the barn when they thought we weren’t paying attention.”

I put my forehead to hers. “Thanks, Sis. You did great.” She gives me a watery smile.

"Momma, take Jack and Jill. Get them somewhere safe."

She shakes her head, her eyes pinning me with a look, as if I'd just suggested she build an outhouse. “I just got you back. I’m not losing you again. Jack, Jill, remember the hidden safe room in the cellar?” They nod. “Can you two get there without me? Remember the catch?”

“Yes, Momma,” they chorus.

“Jack, protect your sister. Jill, keep your brother from mischief,” Momma says, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

Jill smiles briefly at the common household mantra. Momma hands them both a knife and a candle.

That's when Jack balks. "Why can't I come? I'm trained in defence, too." He puffs out his scrawny chest, his hazel eyes darkening with stubbornness.

I ruffle his hair like I did when he was a toddler. He bats me off with a frown. "I need you to protect Jill and keep her safe, little bud. Otherwise, I couldn't do what needs done." I pull him in for a hug. He squirms, but I squeeze once, hard, to let him know I mean business. I whisper in his ear, "If she has an episode, it would terrify her to be alone. Stay." Appealing to his love for his sister is likely the only thing that will keep them both safe.

He scowls, but nods when I give him a look that I perfected in his youth to keep the kid from doing something idiotic.

“Do not open unless you hear me, your sister, or the pass. Deal?” Momma says, checking her knives and gathering a few extra as I watch the back door.

Jill nods, Jack glares. I sure hope he doesn't do anything stupid. It won't be in my power to stop him, as I'll be elsewhere.

I pace to the backdoor, eager to get going. Ran has sent nothing over the bond since she grew weaker when I killed leader bozo.

Momma gives the two a hug, then shoos them away.

They pause before darting into the kitchen.

“Love you,” they say, in perfect unison. I swear they’re linked somehow.

I smile. A small but warm thing. “Love you both more than the worlds can hold.”

They hustle down the steps behind the washbasin in the kitchen, descending into a cellar almost as big as two of my bedroom.

Momma looks at me, really looks at me, then pulls me into a quick hug. I tell myself I'm too old for her overly affectionate soul, but I melt into her embrace all the same.

“Whatever happens, know I love you so much. I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

My voice becomes clogged with emotion. “Love you too, Mom.”

“Let’s go get your girl.”