Page 12 of Dark Elf Makes Five

"What's happening?" Bran's voice cracks with the remnants of sleep and worry.

"I don't know." I pull on my new skirt with fumbling fingers, the fabric still stiff from the seamstress. "But we need to move. Now."

The children dress as quick as they can—no wasted movements, no complaints about the early hour. Within minutes, we pad through the corridors toward the grand hall, our footsteps echoing against stone walls adorned with tapestries that cost more than we'd seen in our entire lives.

Lord Morvath stands before the massive fireplace, his silver hair catching the light from the flames. He's already dressed in his usual dark coat, looking as composed as if it were midday rather than barely past sunrise. His grey eyes track our approach with that unsettling intensity that makes me feel like prey under a hawk's gaze.

"The three of them will start attending the local school today."

The words pierce me like a painful physical blow. I blink, certain I've misheard.

"School?"

"You won't be the only humans there." His tone remains matter-of-fact, as if announcing the weather. "Other noble houses find it practical to educate their future staff."

My mind reels. I know he mentioned it when he gave me the job, I just didn't think he would follow through. School means books, learning, opportunities I'd never dared imagine for them. But it also means separation, hours where I can't watch over them, protect them from whatever cruelties the world might offer.

"Is this really wise?" The question slips before I can stop it. "They're not used to⁠—"

His gaze cuts to me with laser precision. The weight of total authority settles over the room like a suffocating blanket. My words die in my throat.

"It's not a request."

Movement near the hall's entrance draws my attention. An older housemaid with graying brown hair and kind eyes waits by the door, her hands clasped patiently before her. She offers the children a gentle smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Mrs. Aldren will escort them this morning."

I take a step toward my siblings, protective instincts flaring. "I should go with them. Help them settle in⁠—"

"You have other duties today."

The finality in his voice stops me cold. My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms. Every fiber of my being screams against letting them walk out that door without me.

But I have no choice. We have no choice.

I kneel before each of them in turn, pressing kisses to their foreheads with fierce tenderness. Lysa's small arms wrap around my neck, clinging with the desperation of a child who senses change coming whether she understands it or not.

"Remember what I taught you." My voice emerges steadier than I feel. "Stay together. Look out for each other. Mind your manners."

Bran nods with the solemn gravity of a boy forced to grow up too fast. His green eyes hold mine with silent promise—he'll protect them, just as I've protected him.

"We'll be fine, Kessa." But his voice wavers slightly, betraying the uncertainty beneath his brave words.

I watch them file out behind Mrs. Aldren, their small figures disappearing through the grand doorway like ships sailing into unknown waters. The hall feels cavernously empty without their chatter, their presence, their need for me.

Lord Morvath's boots click against stone as he approaches, but I keep my gaze fixed on the empty doorway where they vanished.

I turn toward him, forcing my shoulders back despite the hollow ache in my chest from watching my siblings disappear.

"You have a job for me, My Lord?"

He nods once, those pale grey eyes studying my face with unsettling thoroughness. "Can you read and write?"

The question catches me off guard. Most nobles assume humans like me are illiterate, barely capable of understanding spoken commands, let alone handling written words.

"Perhaps not as well as you, but yes."

Another nod, this one accompanied by the slightest tilt of his head toward the corridor. "Come with me."