The Ugly Duckling Of The Tiger Tribe

Chapter 455: Side Story 10: The Reflection In ‘Her’ Children

I looked at them, their smiles, their politeness, and I just had to keep a calm mind.

"Thank you, Phil. Put it on the side table," I replied, forcing my expression into a neutral, polite calm. I didn’t smile, but I didn’t scowl either.

The moment they lifted their heads, Fenric’s white and black-striped tail stopped its playful swishing.

His ruby eyes narrowed slightly, a low, barely audible rumble passing through his chest as he instinctively shifted his massive frame to stand directly in front of Raiden and Phina.

Noah’s hand didn’t leave my waist, his grip tightening just a fraction in silent support. They felt it too—that primal, protective guard that immediately went up whenever Veyra’s bloodline walked into our sanctuary.

But the children? The children didn’t carry the baggage of the past.

"Phil! Philippe!" Raiden cheered, completely ignoring the tension as he scrambled out from behind Fenric’s legs. "Come look at the drawing Phina made! It has a giant wolf!"

"And Mummy is painting a massive picture for the Grand Hall!" Phina added, her dark wolf ears perking up as she eagerly waved her cousins over to the rugs.

The two tiger children hesitated, their eyes darting to the Kings and me with a quiet, heartbreaking awareness of the invisible wall between us.

But seeing the genuine excitement on their cousins’ faces, they gave small, grateful smiles and walked over, sitting down quietly on the edge of the bear pelts to look at the parchment.

"It’s... It’s really beautiful, Phina," Philipe murmured, his voice gentle as he pointed to the lumpy sun.

I watched them interact from a distance, my heart heavy but steady. I felt Damar’s emerald eyes locking onto me from the cushions, his silver tail uncoiling slightly as if reminding me that the palace walls were secure and that he was always watching.

They are just kids, I reminded myself, drawing a slow, deep breath of the pine-scented air. They are not her.

It was going to take years before I could look at them without seeing Veyra’s ghost. But as I watched Raiden happily share a slice of bison meat with Phil, and Phina giggle at something Philipe said, I knew that letting them be family was the right choice.

The West Way was built on a future of unity, and if I had to sit through a few awkward, uncomfortable moments to ensure my children grew up in a world without generational hatred, then I would stand through it.

My husbands stayed down by the long table, keeping a heavy, watchful eye on the interaction while making sure Kaito and Marina didn’t try to use Phil and Philipe’s presence as an excuse to start a territorial wrestling match.

I moved back toward the massive canvas, pretending to fix a line near Thalor’s rendered silks just to give my hands something to do. The charcoal felt cold against my fingers.

A quiet rustle of linen sounded beside me.

I didn’t have to look down to know who it was. Lyra stepped up to the edge of the easel, her posture perfectly straight, her silver hair catching the flickering amber glow of the fireplace. At her age, she barely reached my hip, but her presence was so still, so heavy with her father’s calculating serpent nature, that she felt twice her size.

She didn’t look at the painting. Instead, her emerald eyes drifted across the room, tracking the way Philipe was carefully explaining a game to a wide-eyed Raiden.

She sat down on a low wooden stool right beside my legs, smoothing her small tunic over her knees with a slow, deliberate neatness.

"Mummy," Lyra said, her voice dropping into that flat, quiet cadence that always sounded entirely too mature for the nursery wing. "Phil and Philipe didn’t do anything wrong, right?"

My hand froze against the canvas. The breath was completely caught in my throat, and the sharp tang of the raw paint pigments suddenly felt thick and suffocating.

I lowered the charcoal stick, my inner tiger tensing before I forced myself to draw a slow, steady breath.

"No," I whispered, looking down into her fierce, unblinking emerald gaze. "They didn’t do anything wrong. They are innocent, Lyra."

"Yes, I figured that out," she added calmly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tail gave a single, logical thump against the cedar floor. "If they did, you wouldn’t let them close. You are the Queen and the Land Mother. You would have removed them from the palace gates before the snow fell."

She paused, her sharp gaze shifting back to the two leopard children before locking right back onto my face.

"But you let them sit on the furs," Lyra continued, her voice completely steady. "Which means your discomfort whenever you see them has nothing to do with them."

I stared at her, completely stunned. A bittersweet, incredibly proud smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I knelt on the rug beside her stool, resting my hand on her small shoulder.

Lyra... always so perceptive. She had completely bypassed the emotional web and dissected the logistics of my trauma with the clinical accuracy of a seasoned scholar.

She didn’t know the full horror of what Veyra had done to me while I was still in the tiger tribe, before I left, and how she had attempted to harm me while I was pregnant—she was too young for that dark history, and I wish to bury it anyway—but she could read my scent and my posture like an open book.

She knew her mother was guarding a wound, and she had deduced exactly where the boundary lay.

"You’re entirely too smart for your own good, General Lyra," I murmured softly, reaching up to gently tuck a stray silver strand behind her ear. "You’re right. It has nothing to do with them. Mummy is just... dealing with an old blueprint that doesn’t fit the kingdom anymore. But it’s a hassle to change overnight, so I’m letting you settle."

Lyra’s emerald slits widened just a fraction, a silent flash of understanding passing through her eyes.

Her stoic face didn’t break, but beneath her cloak, her silver tail did that familiar, hidden ’thing’—giving a rapid, joyful wiggle against the rug because she was pleased to be included in my adult thoughts.

"Then it is an inefficient use of your energy to carry the weight alone," Lyra declared logically, standing up from her stool and adjusting her cloak. "I will monitor them while they play with Raiden and Phina. If their lineage causes any variance, I will notify Daddy Noah immediately."

"I’m sure you will," I laughed quietly, the heavy, suffocating knot in my chest finally loosening under the sheer comfort of her protective little instinct. "Thank you, Lyra dear," I reached down and planted a kiss on her forehead, which she did not evade.

Then, she turned on her heel, her long stride carrying her straight toward the bear pelts where she casually sat down right between Philipe and Nadir, establishing her boundary like a miniature fortress wall.

I closed my eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. She was such a dependable girl, and she wasn’t even the eldest.

I knew I saw a ruler in her when she was much younger. She’ll do great.