The camp that Idris’s friends had set up was deep in the trees, set behind a low cover of hedgerows. Willard had put the aria bells up on one of the trees; laundry hung on another. The carriage was gone, but Riette’s horse grazed close by and Idris’s tent had become a shared dorm. A pot of water bubbled on a low fire.

Before anything else happened, Willard did a cursory investigation of Idris’s health. Idris submitted to a search, too, although nobody found anything out of the ordinary except the black gem and the ring. Lila wordlessly put the prosthetic on his leg and removed the pot from the fire; Riette whetted her sword on the edge of camp, her back turned.

“You’ve been eating well, hmm?” said Willard at last. Idris nodded. “Right, well… well, let’s hear it.”

Idris shifted his jaw, watched a fly dart across the log.

“I found The Remaker’s tower,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Riette turn. “It is in Outer Arbedes. He has the Spirit Glass.”

“Spirit – “ Riette stopped. “The dagger?”

“It is a breastplate,” said Idris. “Brother to the dagger. The Remaker keeps it in his tower. It is under heavy guard and I cannot access it without gaining his trust, which is why I had to leave in secret. I could not jeopardise your safety. As far as I am aware, he does not know you exist. He thinks I am there to… to learn necromancy from him, I think. It is not easy to explain.”

“There is more Spirit Glass?” said Riette.

“Yes. And it must be destroyed, or else the Fairy Queen will own my soul and I would rather she left it alone. I did not mean to deceive you, my lady. It… it is a delicate matter.”

He explained as much as he could bear – about the death curtain and the letter he wrote to Cressida, and the vault, and the crystal in the library – and his friends listened silently. He did not tell them about the day in the practice room or the feigned illness, or the cats or the ravens, or the quiet murmur of the death aria that lulled him to sleep in the tall tower room.

“He thinks I am out here to make a contract with the fae,” Idris finished. “Realistically… I need to ask more favours.”

“Another necromancer,” said Riette, her face still. “Does he wish the kingdom harm?”

“I do not think so. I think… I think he wants to be left alone, to live as he pleases. I understand that, at least. He will not admit to giving Dravid Orrost the Spirit Dagger but I have seen the place where it lay and… and it was a powerful place. I suspect the breastplate has more power than The Remaker is letting on.” Idris sighed. “But you are all safe, and that is what I wanted. I must apologise to you in particular, Lila,” he said.

She shook her head. “I could not dissuade you,” she said. “It was useless to try.”

“You knew?” said Riette, turning to Lila. Lila said nothing; she simply poked the fire and ignored the conversation.

“Where is the carriage?” said Idris.

“We took it to Gleesdale,” said Willard. “Figured we could sway your influence there, and it worked. This is our, uh…”

“Forward camp,” said Riette, glaring at him. “So we could look for your corpse.”

Shame warmed Idris’s cheeks. “I did not mean to –“

“We were within our rights to be concerned,” said Willard, before another fight could break out. “But we’re all right glad we were wrong. It’s a balm to see you safe and well, Master Dead-Talker.”

“Have you spoken to Her Majesty?” said Idris. Lila shook her head.

“I would not be surprised if she has already sent someone to look for us,” said Riette.

“I need a few more days,” said Idris. “If I can get into the vault…”

“Why did you not just kill The Remaker?” said the soldier, with a soldier’s logic.

It was a good question. He had gone with full intent and somehow, it had waned. Was he stupid?

“He is the only person who can open the vault,” said Idris. She shrugged.

“A good stone magician could pull the bricks off it relatively easily.”

“I…” Idris swallowed the gummy taste in his mouth. “I did not have the stomach for murder, when I got there.”

“We can take this tower this evening,” she said, her eyes confused. “I will kill him. We tell the Queen what we need and she will come and –“

“Enough people have died for this glass,” said Willard.

“We are all emotional,” said Lila, attempting to curtail Riette’s thoughts, but the lady fixed her eyes on Idris and pursed her lips.

“The Remaker claims he is your father,” she said quietly, “doesn’t he?”

Idris said nothing. The silence was strained. Discussing his family history with a noble lady, as raw as it was, had no appeal. He hated her anger and she was angry for good reason. While he had been ruminating in safety, she had been out searching for him, assuming the worst. Riette sighed, gazed out into the trees.

“He is not your family,” she said, standing.

“He is my blood,” said Idris firmly, and she turned and glared at him.

“That is not family.”

“That is rather easy for you to say –“

“He abandoned you and you are willing to –“

“You do not know what it is like to be me,” Idris said, his teeth gritted. “Do not stand there and analyse me like you understand this. You do not.”

“Your family,” said Riette, her voice quiet and dark, “sits right here. Here, in this forest, and on the throne. That man gave a bastard a dagger which nearly destroyed your family –“

“Use the word ‘bastard’ very carefully from now on,” Idris hissed.

Nobody spoke. Idris shook, his jaw aching. Riette did not look remotely threatened. She sheathed her sword, picked up a sack and walked off into the trees.

“That went well,” whispered Willard.

“I do not have time to explain myself to her ladyship,” said Idris, snatching up the black gem and getting to his feet.

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“Whoa now, Idris,” said Willard, alarmed, jumping up after him. “What’re you doing with that?”

“I need to talk to Joa. Can you help me or not?”

“Calm.” Willard put his hands on Idris’s shoulders, sighed. “Tell me what you need.”

Idris was not sure. He needed to tell Layton that he had made the deal, make it seem believable; he did not truly want the breastplate changed. That, and he had to get access to the staff, and find a way to get the breastplate out of the tower without Layton racing to apprehend him after.

“Lady Riette might have something,” he said quietly. “We may need a distraction. Regardless, I must speak with someone in the fae realm. If we can find a fairy circle –“

“Eh, we… don’t need to go that far,” said Willard with a shy smile. “Leave it to me. I… you should take a moment. ‘S’been knotty, these last few days, and I’m sure you ain’t had a second to really take it in, hmm?”

“I –“

“There’s been a lot of half-truths,” said Willard bluntly. “I think now you should make them whole.”

Obediently, Idris sat, again. Carefully, he told Willard and Lila about Haylan’s letter and what he understood to be true about his parentage. He described Layton and the tower and what had happened there; he explained his plan, as simply as he could. Spelling it out, he realised he had failed. He should have stabbed Layton. Raven’s Roost could have been dismantled and they could already be home. He was delaying, because…

Because…

“I need to apologise to Lady Riette,” he said, into the quiet of the forest.

Lila cut Willard a telling look.

“Lady Riette is, ah…” Willard scratched his head. “She ain’t slept well. It’s no surprise she’s wound up.”

“If she hits me, I deserve it,” said Idris, getting up again. “I shall not be long, and I will not wander far. Not this time.”

“Put a boot over –“ Lila started, but he ignored her and walked away from the fire.

It felt strange, wearing his prosthetic again. Idris picked through the trees with steady, measured steps, watching the hinges and gears in the shining ankle redistributing his weight and tilting the spindly toes up and down. It would be easier to walk the tower steps, he thought, and then shamed himself for it.

He found Riette by a small pond. Her sack was bulging; when she saw him, she tensed, then relaxed and sighed.

“You scared away our dinner,” she said, straightening up from her crouch.

“I apologise,” Idris said softly. “Can… can we talk?”

She said nothing. She looked at the skeleton of his false foot, sucked her cheeks and shrugged.

“Firstly… firstly I am glad that you stayed. With Lila and Willard, I mean. I know that Lila can take care of herself but… you did not have to be here.”

“I could not very well return to Veridia without you,” said Riette testily. “You are aware that –“

“That Her Majesty sent you to watch me?” he said. “Yes. Or at least, that is what I assumed.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I… it was not that way.”

“Regardless,” said Idris, sighing, “I appreciate that you did not abandon my friends.” He sat on a fallen log, rolled the ball of his false foot on the ground, examining the cogs. “I have been lonely my whole life,” he said. “I understand that this admission probably seems selfish, but it is the truth. I do not expect you to know what that is like. Family has always been a… a difficult concept for me. I could have killed him, Riette. I had the dagger in my hand and I…”

Riette sat beside him quietly. “I know loneliness,” she said.

“You have seven brothers –“

“Seven brothers who flew from the nest as fast as they possibly could,” she said. “Crescent Crest is a magnificently solitary place. My father is strict, and my brothers wanted none of his edicts and ideas about our station. I know loneliness, Idris.” She scoffed, shook her head. “The idea of a noble family is not real family. It is meaningless action, all designed to protect the concept of honour. Who cares about fealty to a long line of dead ancestors? I am fortunate that I have my brothers, that much is true, but if I could throw my name into the sea –“

“This is where we will always fundamentally disagree,” said Idris, feeling hot and confused. Riette watched him carefully, frowning. “I would give my second leg to be an Eremont. I… if I could wish it into being… it is too hard to explain.” He pursed his lips. “This man is my father, Riette.”

“He is just a man who made you –“

“No,” he said firmly, looking right at her. “No, that is not right. It would be one thing if there were scores of necromancers out there but there are not. We are alone. This is my one chance to understand this, to… to stop feeling like an abomination. Can you understand that part of it, if you cannot understand it all? I thought I was an Eremont. I thought it for half my life. I thought these two hands, they could help people. I thought I was good and pure.”

He did not know when he had started crying, but it felt honest, and he was tired of dishonesty. He held his hands on his lap, stared at the thin fingers, the dirt under the nails, the patches of healed burns.

“I thought one day, people would come to me to fix their coughs and colds. I thought I would live in Temple Hill and I thought, when I was older, it would be mine. And then, all at once, none of these things were true. These damned hands, Riette – they ruined me. And nobody could tell me why because the truth was too difficult, so I believed, up until four days ago, that I was deformed. That… that something had just gone wrong inside me and there was nobody to blame for that but myself and cruel fate. You cannot understand the relief, the sheer… the giddiness of knowing that I am not a freak of nature, that I was not an accident and I am not evil and that someone, somewhere, even fractionally wanted me, and they wanted me to be this way, and…”

He covered his mouth and screwed his eyes shut, and cried soundlessly into the back of his hand. Somehow, he had buried these thoughts. In the days following Haylan’s death, it had been a necessary graveyard to build. If he continued to believe those things, day after day, every waking moment, he would never have got out of bed again. But those ghosts were restless, now.

“My parents gave me up,” he whispered. “Because I am their shame. Layton wants me. He wants me to stay. And Riette, I… I want to stay. And I am frightened of that. And I do not know what to do. I cannot hurt him. I want to but I cannot. If I stay, Cressida will… she will cast me out, I know it. But Layton will always welcome me home, no matter what I do or who I am. How do I give that away?”

Gently, Riette took Idris’s hand away from his face, wiped the tears off his knuckles and used the heel of her hand to clean his cheeks. His fingers stayed in hers.

“When you lost your foot,” she whispered, “who was there? Layton? No.” She brushed Idris’s fringe out of his eyes. “When your uncle passed, was he there? When there was war in the kingdom, did he seek you out, to see if you were safe? Who sat at your bedside when you woke with nightmares? Who soothed your wounds? Who fought beside you?”

She turned his head so he was looking at her, and she reached into his heart with only her gaze, and he felt foolish and weak all at once. The part of Riette which made him tell her truths he would not admit to anyone else had found a deep foothold inside him; it was magic he could not hope to replicate.

“Lila and Willard, the Queen, Kurellan – none of those people care if you are an Eremont or not. The magic in your blood does not bar you from their halls or their tables. It means nothing.” Riette placed her knuckles on the spot where the dagger wound still stained Idris’s shoulder. “Layton sent a man to kill us all, with a dagger that could have ruined the kingdom. And he is who you want to call your family?”

“I know what he did –“

“What will he do when he realises that it was you who stopped Orrost at Braemar?” said Riette.

Idris said nothing. He had not even thought about it.

“Idris,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers, “blood is finite. One day, there will be no more Eremonts and no more DeTrentavilles and no more Nagas. Blood mixes and spills. But the love I see for you, every day? From all kinds of people, from all kinds of families, from aria-conductors and the aria-deaf? That is something that nobody can take from you. You are the only person who can throw that away. Is that something you want to do?”

“I don’t want to feel alone anymore,” he said.

“You were never alone,” Riette said fiercely, gripping his fingers. “But you put distance between yourself and the people you love because you did not believe yourself worthy of their love in return. When will you be worthy? When you own a secret tower? When you have a centuries-old necromantic family behind you? When you can trace your ancestry back to the fae wars and everyone bows and calls you Lord? Will that be enough?”

“Riette –“

“Why do you think I stayed?” she said, her own eyes filled with tears, now.

They sat, silent, with Riette’s grip desperate on Idris’s fingers.

“I did not come because the Queen asked me to,” she said eventually, “although she did ask me. And I have not been searching Outer Arbedes every day and night because I thought it was my duty. And I did not invite you to talk with my brothers at the party out of pity or duty.”

Idris thought of the birthday party, of the fireworks shimmering off the gold embroidery on Riette’s capelet, of how she smiled when she saw him there.

“I have never known a man so incapable of believing in the goodness of himself,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Sir Idris?”

Idris tugged his hands from Riette’s, wiped his face and turned. Lila peered around the trees. She looked once at Riette, then at him, and she did not comment.

“Willard is ready for you,” she said.

“Good,” said Idris, then cleared his throat. “Thank you, Lila, I… I will be there momentarily.”

When he turned to catch Riette’s eye again, she was already walking away, the sack over her shoulder, her braid swinging behind her.