Lena patted the young boy’s head and gave him a reassuring smile, “You’ll be fine.” He nodded and smiled back, then turned his face into his mother’s chest. A few minutes later he was fast asleep. “Asante,” his mother said, gently holding his broken arm steady on his side. Lena smiled and nodded. Watching the boy turn to his mother for comfort seared a pain through her heart as if a hot blade had been driven through her chest. She missed Martha and Merilee, her two beautiful daughters. But it had been years since they were gone. Merilee died in a car crush as a teenager. She was rebellious, envious and jaded by the fact she was not born first. Lena knew if they could switch places, Martha would happily give her the burden. Lena sighed, Burden? The duties of being born the first daughter from a twentieth-tenth generation faerie had never felt like a burden to her. Granted it felt like a duty
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