Joy-of-Autumn bowed low when Idris approached the fire.

“Master Dead-Talker,” he said, his voice ethereal and calm, the silver crown in his waves of golden hair shining.

Willard sat quietly against a tree trunk, his hands dug into the floor, moss and flowers growing up his arms like tight lace. He grinned at Idris’s concerned stare.

“Been doing a-plenty of learning while you’ve been away,” he said brightly. “Fae magic is knotty. Don’t want to be held in by stances and all that. Kinda… whispers to me what it wants, how to do it.”

“This is my second visit,” said Joa. When he moved, the air seemed to glitter and skew around him, as if he had been cut from a painting. “It is pleasant, to step outside of the fae realm for a spell. Come, sit. We have been discussing your, ah… problem.”

“He ain’t gonna cut your arm again,” said Willard quickly. “Right?”

“Oh, of course not,” said Joa, looking troubled at the thought. “That was… a terrible misunderstanding.”

“I am glad your mother crafted such a fine poppet of me,” said Idris coolly. “It is a shame about its foot, though.”

Joa kept his face neutral, but there was a flash of fury in his eyes.

“How is the Fairy Queen?” said Idris, settling himself on the floor.

“She is… herself,” said Joa, sitting on the opposite side of the fire.

“Lady Riette,” said Idris, about to introduce her, but Riette put her tongue in her cheek and put her sack on the ground.

“We’ve met,” she said, pulling out a rabbit to skin.

“The Blackstone Lady and I have spoken,” said Joa, with a pleasant smile that hid multitudes. “She threatened to cleave my head from my shoulders if I did not assist in the search for you. It was a grand visit.”

“I like fae better when they are quiet,” said Riette, tugging entrails out of the corpse; the death aria from the rabbit plunged deep and low in Idris’s bones.

“And I like human soldiers better when they are dead,” said the fairy prince mildly. “But we do not always get what we like. She did not believe me when I said you were safe, Dead-Talker. I thought noble ladies had noble manners, but I was wrong. No matter. Kin Willard tells me that you have located the breastplate.”

“I have.”

“I will not ask,” said the prince, holding up a hand. “Suffice to say, you are requesting the use of the staff to destroy it.”

“I am. Or a piece of it. It is a tricky situation, though, and arriving with the staff would cause problems,” said Idris. “I would like to know what you are willing to do to assist me.”

Joa crossed his legs, his face pensive. In the quiet forest light, his resemblance to Willard was clearer than it had been in the fae realm, in the fear and confusion of their first meeting. Their hair shimmered the same way, and while Willard’s curls were tight and bouncy, they parted naturally at the forehead at the same angle as Joa’s. The fae prince’s gentle lips, when pulled into a friendly smile, made Willard’s smile. Idris wondered if his friends would see the same things, if they ever met Layton.

Eventually, Joa turned to Idris and let out a long, slow sigh.

“We should talk in private, friend,” he said. “Willard, do you mind?”

“Mind?” said Willard. “Nah. You go ahead. Not sure how far I can push the bright bits out, though. Where’re you a-walking to?”

“There is a gathering of violets not far from here,” said Joa, standing. “Perhaps thirty steps. Concentrate on my image, it should maintain my appearance here.”

“Aye.”

“If we talk in private,” said Idris, remembering the events of the fae realm, and Joa smiled and shook his head.

“You are under special protections, Master Dead-Talker. I cannot harm you, and I cannot offer any new deals.”

Riette squared her jaw and broke the spine of a rabbit over her knee. Joa’s smile did not waver.

“The Blackstone Lady can watch with arrow nocked should she deem it appropriate,” he added.

“That will not be necessary,” said Idris, getting up and touching Riette’s shoulder in a brief, calming flicker. “I shan’t be long.”

He joined Joa, and they wandered for a minute before coming across the patch of violets the prince had mentioned.

“Apologies for my treatment of your… guard,” said Joa. “The Blackstone families and the fae, we do not interact, and for good reason. Treaties were signed, but… resentment runs deep.”

Idris nodded. Most old noble families had some disagreements with the fae from some time or another. The fae had been vicious during the many wars between them and the mortal realm – stealing children, bodysnatching rulers, disappearing whole cities – and New Borria’s families had long memories. Out of the ruling houses of the continent, the Eremonts and the Meers were likely the two bloodlines that the fae did not quarrel with; he had no idea how the Vonners stood in fae estimation.

“You met your father,” said Joa, sitting in the violets. Idris chewed the inside of his lip and nodded. “We have had… dealings, before. He sits on the edge of our second-largest expanse of territory, and we keep his land quietly watched. He has been interesting to us, of late.”

“When did you know?” said Idris, sitting also.

“My mother saw it in your blood. You said Eremont and it was not a lie – there is Eremont. But the dominant line is Vonner. She thought it best to keep that to herself.” Joa paused. “There are not a lot of necromancers around. Where there is one, any other is likely to be kin. Father assumed you would be meeting soon.”

“The armour is…”

“Ancestrally yours. Yes.”

Idris pursed his lips. He did not know how to feel about that.

“I know where the last two pieces are. The breastplate, and the pauldrons. But… I can destroy the pauldrons by using them against each other, once I have access to them. The breastplate, I fear I cannot remove from its resting place without alerting other interested parties.”

“Noted.”

“I need... a distraction,” said Idris hopefully. “And a way in. I need Layton to believe that giving me access to the breastplate is useful and necessary, and then I need to dispose of it quickly.”

Joa smiled. “Let me lay out my proposal.”

*

When Joa eventually left, he clasped Willard’s shoulder tightly and kissed his crown. Willard smiled, sweat on his brow.

“Everything will be well,” said his father. “I will go.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Joa shimmered out of existence like he had never truly been there, and the moss that had held Willard’s hands so tightly against the ground suddenly crumbled like there had been a hard frost; the hedge witch winced and blew out a long, twinkly note of fae aria.

“That is quite something,” said Idris.

“I’m right tired,” said Willard, wiping the sweat and resting his head against the tree trunk. “It’d be nice if he could just get a carriage over here.”

“There have to be some drawbacks to having a princely father, Willard.”

“Aye, I s’pose so.” He peered at Idris. “You staying tonight?”

Idris nodded, glancing at Lila and Riette. “If you will have me,” he said.

Riette’s face hid nothing – she showed her simmering anger in her pursed lips, her squared shoulders – but Lila’s behaviour was troublesome. She was quiet and reserved, much as she was when she had first come to assist Idris at the palace, and she would not look her companions in the eye. Idris wished he could speak to her privately, ask her what was wrong, but he assumed she too was annoyed with him. By itself, that thought was invasive. Lila had always been by his side, through everything; somehow, he had even betrayed her trust.

“Let’s keep you where we can see you, eh?” said Willard, wiping his palms on his thighs and getting up. “I’m starving.”

It was getting into early evening, and the shadows were thick and deep in the undergrowth. Riette’s collection of hunted animals roasted over an open fire. Lila passed out water from a filled skin – the wine was gone. Willard filled the awkward silence with fae ditties about summertime flowers and rabbit lords, and Idris sat quietly beside the fire, wondering what Layton was eating for his dinner.

“What’s he like?” Willard asked eventually, when the meat was cool enough to handle.

“Hmm?” said Idris, stirring. “Who?”

“Your pa. What’s he like?”

Idris shrugged, looked back at the flames. “He is... I do not really know. Quiet. Closed off.”

“Must’ve been a shock to him, you just a-walking up like that.”

“It was.” Idris frowned. “Probably it was more shocking that I approached him with a knife in my hand.”

“I do not know how he could have expected much else,” said Riette.

“He believes me to be a better man than I am,” said Idris quietly. “That is the role I must play.”

“Ain’t many people out there better than you, Idris,” said Willard. “Believe me.”

“That would be nice if it were true.” Idris smiled bitterly. “Good men do not tend to treat their friends as badly as I do.”

“First part of being good is noticing what things you do bad,” said Willard. “Nobody’s perfect, but we can all try to notice when we aren’t.”

“What is it like?” said Riette, frowning. “Knowing that he is here?”

Idris sniffed. “I... I cannot adequately describe. It is simultaneously exciting and infuriating. I want to slam his head against the brick wall at the same time as I want to make him laugh. I wish so desperately that I could... stand firmly on one side or the other. I hate him. But... but there is not so much to hate except his absence. He is not mean or spiteful. He is actually rather kind and awkward. I think he is simply very lonely and he does not know how to behave towards me. I am an adult. He knows nothing about me. That must be difficult.”

“Do you think he might hurt you?” she said.

“No,” said Idris, and he believed it. “I do not. He wants an heir. He will not jeopardise that.”

Lila still said nothing.

“Personally,” said Willard, throwing the bones into the fire, “I think this might all turn out pretty fine.” When Idris raised an eyebrow at him, Willard smiled. “You found family. Maybe once the whole glass business is done, you can get together again. Mebbe he could live in the palace?”

Riette smiled pityingly at Willard. “You have much to learn still, Princeling.”

“Layton could not come to Veridia, Willard,” said Idris. Willard frowned.

“Why not?”

“It is not the place for someone like him,” Idris said, and felt ashamed immediately. “Someone like us,” he corrected.

“So when are you leaving us?” said Lila.

Her voice was sharp and brittle, like flint, and her words struck Idris like a well-shot arrow. Her head was still down but her shoulders were shaking and her eyes were shut.

“Like you said, he is your family,” she continued. “Why would you stay in Veridia any longer? You have an ancestral home, a noble bloodline. You’re going to leave, correct?”

Idris stared at Lila. “I -”

“Everything you said,” she interrupted, glaring right at him, “was all dung. How could people like us ever be important to someone like you?”

“Lila -”

“Family first is what you told me,” she said. Her eyes spilled tears. “And then you left me here to lie for you like... like some loyal dog! We leave the things that are in the past in the past, correct? Then let me make it easy for you. I am not your family, Idris. I never was. I was convenient. I’m just a stupid, common little girl who you can dispose of at will. Don’t you ever come to me and ask me to help you again.”

“Miss Lila,” said Willard, stunned, “come now -”

Lila threw the bottle of charmed water on the ground.

“I called the Queen,” she said.

Idris’s face felt hot instantly. “You did what?” he said.

“I called her yesterday,” said Lila furiously. “To end this. To bring you home. And then that’s where I’ll be going, home. My real home. And you can go to your secret stupid tower with your hateful father because that’s where ‘people like you’ belong, and people like us, we don’t matter to you. Not at all.”

She hurled the bag of knuckle bones beside the bottle and grabbed her sword.

“Lila, no,” said Riette, trying to grab her arm, but the girl would not be dissuaded. She tore herself away and stamped off in the direction of the road.

Idris sat, feeling sick.

She called Cress.

The Queen was on her way.

“Take those,” he whispered to Willard, getting up.

“Where are you going?” said Willard.

“To get Lila.”

“Idris -”

“I am not leaving her behind,” Idris said, and he hurried into the trees.

It did not take long to find her. She was on the road, walking doggedly but crying hard.

“Lila,” said Idris, trying to catch up. She turned, hand on her sword hilt.

“Go away, Idris.”

“There are traps in these woods, you know,” he said, half-joking.

“Why would you care?”

“Bells, Lila, why would I not? Please stop. I...”

“I’m not sorry I called her,” she said, straightening her shoulders like he was going to fight her. “I’m not. I was scared. This is her job, not mine.”

“I am not angry.”

“I should have taken your stupid money,” she said, her face crumbling again. “Why didn’t I take your money?”

“I... I honestly do not know, Lila, but I am glad you did not,” he said. He did not know if he could make her stay. What could he promise her? Realistically, everything she felt and thought was valid. What else was she meant to think? “Lila...”

“I will not be your crutch,” she said.

“And I do not want to burden you. You are your own person.”

This was not the fight Lila expected; Idris saw it in her hesitation, in the fresh flow of tears. Idris closed his eyes.

“For my eighteenth birthday,” he said, “you got me an ink bottle, made with glass from Istabrook.” She said nothing, so he continued. “It is still the ink bottle I use. For my nineteenth birthday, you got me gloves, with sheepskin lining, for the cold halls, because you saw how my hands chafe when I use my crutches in the winter. For my twentieth, you... you went ice fishing with me. You caught the biggest northern pike I have ever seen and I lost my hipflask in the river, so for my twenty-first, you gave me a new hipflask.”

He opened his eyes cautiously. Lila stood, paralysed, watching him.

“Do you know who else gives me birthday presents?” he said softly. “Do you know who else remembers? That is not your job, Lila. Nobody else’s attendants are expected to purchase gifts, or... or go on trips to the River Noctis on the coldest day of the year, just to fish. The only other person who celebrates my birthday with me is the Queen. I remember what I got you for your seventeenth. It was a dismissal. Sixty gold pieces and an official letter of commendation. Why did I give you that?”

She sniffed, wiped her eyes. “Because... because... you said I had done enough.”

“I did not expect you to give it back,” he said. “I thought that was the best thing I could do for you. For my friend. For my friend who... who did not care about blood or necromancy or family names. I thought I could give you a life of your own. Lila, if that is truly what you want – I offer it, willingly. Go if it pleases you. I would be happy to see you happy. If...” He could not deny it, so he blurted it out. “If I stay with Layton, it is not because I am throwing you away. It... the opportunity, Lila... it has been just us for so long now, I know that. Me and you against the world. But the world... my world, it got so much bigger all at once. There is space in it for you, if you want it. If not... if not, I will be happy to let you go, if it is what you truly want.”

“I won’t stay if I have to keep lying for you,” said Lila.

“Then... we will renegotiate the terms. A real contract. You do not have to be my attendant. I can pay you more. You will never have to lie for me again.”

“You swear?” she said.

Idris took his grandfather’s dagger, cut the pad of his thumb and let the blood run.

“I swear,” he said. “You and your friendship are more valuable to me than anything. Than this,” he said, squeezing the cut so the blood welled. “I meant it when I said it, Lila. You are my family. You, Her Majesty. Willard too. Our family can grow without pushing anyone out. I have a cat son, now, would you believe it?”

She smiled, just slightly, then hunched her shoulders.

“I... was angry, when I called Her Majesty -”

“You did the right thing. It simply speeds up my plan.” Idris sighed. “You did not eat. If you are taking the road, do you want to eat, first?”

Lila glanced up the track, into the falling night.

“I do,” she said. As she passed him, she said, “And then we can negotiate our contract.”

“My lady,” he said, turning to follow her.

“Oh, no,” she said, with a quiet laugh. “Just Lila, please, Sir Idris.”

“Only Idris. Thank you. I was going to do this for your eighteenth, you know. Now I have to think of a better gift.”

“All I would like for my eighteenth is for you to be alive,” she said, nudging his ribs with her bony elbow.

“I will try.”

“A cat son?”

“He is adorable. His name is Thistle. You will meet him soon enough.”

“I did not take you for a cat person.”

“Cats are valuable assets to a necromancer. Did I never tell you about the Braemar strays?”

“Tell me tomorrow,” said Lila. “Sir.”

Idris supposed that meant he was allowed to stay.