“Are you awake?” yelled Amalia upstairs. I heard her steps thump up to the loft attic. “It’s not like you to oversleep.”

  “I was messing with my hair,” I said as I felt her presence beside me. I stood in front of my mirror with a pair of scissors. Black hair clumped on the nightstand it sat upon. “How does it look?” I turned with my head pointed slightly down.

  I needed a way to cover my eyes that looked natural. I had already been growing my hair long because of my ears and horns. There was enough there to create bangs without the rest of my hair looking like crap. As an added benefit, I had an excellent facial structure that complemented the look. Honestly, I should have gone with the style sooner.

  Amalia froze then relaxed. “It looks good. You’re lucky.” She moved closer to me. “You know, you could have asked me if you wanted to cut your hair.”

  “I like to do things myself,” I quipped back.

  “It’s a little too long around your eyes,” noticed my mother. “Can you see?”

  “Very easily.”

  “…alright then. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Amalia turned around and headed downstairs. “Come get some breakfast. And you can show your father your new hair.”

  Part of me was worried about telling Quintin and Amalia about my eyes. I felt it was better to hide things from them until I was more comfortable moving forward.

  I quickly got dressed and followed her.

  There was one set of stairs in the house. They led to an open loft that was retrofitted into my room years ago. The rest of the house was on a single floor. There was one extra room, a bedroom, for Amalia and Quintin to sleep, and it wasn’t very soundproof, unfortunately. The kitchen was at the bottom of my stairs, and the living room was underneath my loft. It was a large house by Sandy Branch’s standards but cozy for three people.

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  “Morning, kiddo,” said Quintin as I took my place at the kitchen table. He was already devouring eggs and fresh bread. “Why did you do that to your hair?”

  “Why? Is it ugly? Do I look gross?” I fretted, lacing my voice with worry. “I-It’ll grow back.” I made my voice quiver. “I’m sorry.”

  “N-No! It’s fine. Just wondering!” hurried Quintin to explain.

  “Oh. I just wanted a change of pace. It looks more grown-up this way, huh?”

  “Sure, sure.” Quintin went back to eating but paused. “Why do you wanna grow up so fast?”

  My head was slightly down, and I avoided eye contact. “No reason.”

  “Fine. Keep your secrets.”

  I played with the sleeve of my shirt. It was long and covered my wrists—intentional on my part. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to tell them about my mark yet. Then the inevitable question of “What color are your eyes?” would follow. I’d have to show them the white, and everything would change.

  I didn’t want that. Not yet. Not until I had some time to think.

  “Oh, I can’t practice swordplay with you today. Just focus on archery instead with your free time,” said Quintin as I started to eat. “Barcus and his crew are in town again. They’re looking to train his little brother, get him some experience fighting monsters, and earn some coins. They’ve got a job lined up for today, so I’ll be joining them.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll practice on my own,” I replied. Noticing Quintin’s regretful gaze, I frowned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” asked Quintin, surprised.

  “Like I’m a sick dog begging for its owner. I’ll just hit the dummy, shoot a bit, and relax in the forest. Sure, I may cry in the grass wondering why you abandoned me for money, but I’ll get over it. Maybe. If you bring back gifts, I definitely will.”

  Amalia stood behind me, lightly thumped the back of my head, and took her place at the table with us. “Stop teasing your father. You know he’s sensitive about these kinds of things.”

  “Sorry,” I said to Quintin. I didn’t make eye contact with him or Amalia throughout the conversation, and the hair mostly hid my gaze from their views. “Barcus has a brother?”

  “Just awakened a few months ago. He’s twelve, I think. Named Nigel,” relayed Quintin. He funneled bites of egg into his mouth between words. “They’re not taking him on contracts quite yet. Still green behind the ears from what I hear.”

  “Oh, if he’s going to be in town by himself, why don’t you tell Barcus to send him over here?” said Amalia. “He can play with Yen.”

  “Dunno if a kid that came here to learn to fight wants to play, but I’ll bring it up,” said Quintin. He glanced at me. “You fine with that?”

  Not at all. I thought. “Sure, why not?” I said, already dreading the rest of the day.