BEFORE THE QUESTION can leave my mouth, there's a scuffle.

Commotion from the drunks.

Orion raises an eyebrow at it, frustration apparent underneath his breath.

"Duty calls," he sighs.

My father spins me just once more, before I'm finally released with a formal bow.

He strides towards the drunks, his broad shoulders parting the crowd as effortlessly as a ship cutting through rough seas, before at last I lose sight of him altogether, and I find myself alone again.

The weight of the night presses down on me.

Half Fae. The Only Prince. A prophecy that threatens to tear my father away from me.

I step out of the frenzy of the dancers, and feel the hem of my dress grow wet as I walk along the slightly longer dew-kissed grass, hoping to clear my mind.

My eyes scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces, for something to anchor me in this sea of uncertainty.

I spot my flash of red.

Jovanna!

Oh, she is so going to pay.

I catch Jovanna's eyes and give her a pointed look. She has the audacity to wink at me before disappearing into the crowd again. Right behind her, Circe's braids bounce with laughter at something Jovanna has said, the two of them thick as thieves.

For a moment, I consider joining them.

But something holds me back. Something I can't name, but it's there, tugging at the edges of my mind.

So instead, I sweep the crowd in search of who can not escape my thoughts tonight.

Noadok.

He's still engaged in conversation with Isadora, and I can't shake off the unease that settles in the pit of my stomach at the sight of them together. Laughter spills from her mouth, rising over the music. It's boisterous and carefree. Unlike anything I've ever heard from her before.

Is there a soul the Prince hasn't charmed?

My father, I suddenly think.

But even I know that it's only a matter of time before the Prince performs this magic on him as well.

There are only couples left dancing now. Swaying under dimming lights, lost in the revelry of the feast. An airy flute leads the music, the soft paddling of drums following closely behind.

The musicians are kind, so I know with no request that they will continue to play late into the night, even early morning, until we finish cleaning.

On any other night, it wouldn't be long before my father sang or played with them.

But they don't know he won't be joining this time.

Even from here, I can still hear the guiding voice of Orion. Confident. Strong.

He's loud, but not harsh. Gentle, and clear.

The rowdy drunks are easy to disperse. Some begin the trek home, groups of twos and threes that lean on each other, and others stagger to help tidy up.

I pick up a discarded goblet, and move towards the nearest table. My fingers brush against the cool surface of the top cloth, traces of spilled wine and bits of food left behind, easily able to be wrapped up within the cloth and scrapped. There are enough willing hands to make the chore a quick two hours.

Even without my father.

The laughter and conversation that once filled the clearing has faded into a muted hum.

The air is heavy with the scent of burnt wood and sweat, and I can tell without looking that somewhere nearby a bonfire has been started.

It must be nearly time to start cleaning.

I glance up, my eyes darting from face to face in search of Noadok. When I spot him, Isadora is no longer by his side. He stands alone. His expression betrays nothing of his previous conversation with the weapons trader, but the Prince lacks his former vigilance. His gaze is fixed strictly up at the dark indigo hued sky above, probably the exact shade as his iris'. The ancient lights and constellations are at their brightest now, well after dusk.

For a moment, this far away, Prince Noadok could be any other guest.

A tall, and quite imposing guest, but human, nonetheless.

Just another figure lost in the glow of the lowering lantern flames.

What is he thinking about? Shivnook? His brother? Arabella? The necromancer?

Or, perhaps, he's even thinking of me.

But there isn't any more time left to ponder what a Fae Prince could think about.

Because the prince's head finally dips, and I know. I know he is about to find my father.

Despite my better judgement, I can't look away.

Prince Noadok straightens, a brief movement that seems to sober him up, and it begins.

My heart quickens with every step he takes to Orion. My father stands with his back to me, chatting with a group of men who have found themselves near the edge of the bonfire. His silhouette is stretched large against the backdrop of flickering torches and shadowed trees.

Even turned away from my view, I can still see the tension in my father's broad shoulders as he's approached by Prince Noadok.

Their exchange is brief, and I can't make out the words, but whatever the prince has told him does the trick.

That is all it takes.

As quickly as it began, the conversation ends. My father nods once, a terse motion, before turning away. His steps are purposeful, heading first towards an elder for another, very brief conversation, and then towards me.

I steel myself, unsure of what to expect. Will he tell me he's leaving now? Will I get to hear of what great secret the prince has finally revealed that has forced my father's hand?

But when Orion reaches me, all he says is, "Help me gather my things."

Together, we make our way through the clearing, back towards our cottage. The music and chattering of the feast fades behind us. Silence hangs heavy as we walk, broken only by the rustle of leaves underfoot and the chirping of crickets. Stealing glances at my father, I try to read his expression in the dim light.

It's no use though, he won't look at me.

I try to stop the moment. I hold each blink in my mind, hoping this will be the time it finally freezes.

It doesn't work.

Once the door is open, he wastes no time. My father begins packing belongings into his leather saddle bags, moving with practiced efficiency.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A new fact occurs to me suddenly then.

Solaris will be going with him.

I truly will be all alone.

Orion does not console me of this. There is something more important he has discovered than even my present feelings. He packs, swiftly.

Dried meat. Canteens of water. Travel bread. Hardened cheese. Cloaks. Gloves. Boots.

The list goes on.

His shoulders are tense, like he's carrying something far heavier than the simple leather bags he's packing. There's something in his posture that I can't quite place—guilt, maybe. Or regret.

I clear my throat, knowing I must ask the question. "Where are you going?"

Will I finally hear the truth?

There's a moment of hesitation, his hands still, and then he continues.

A pouch of coins. Whetstone. Orion's twin steel daggers. He still doesn't meet my gaze- no. I think to myself. My father can't meet my gaze as he replies, "I- I have to leave."

I eye the weapons as he packs them. Then comes another question, "Why?"

"The prince has asked for my aid, and... I cannot refuse." Something in his words makes me think this at least is true. But I know that is all he will tell me.

"What happens here?" I ask.

"The elders will gather to discuss matters." Some rope. Medicinal herbs. Bandage wraps.

"How long will you be gone?" I bet he can feel the weight of my gaze on his back.

"I do not know," His voice wavers.

"Will you be safe?" My throat tightens, and my fingers curl into the fabric of my dress, gripping it as though it could anchor me. I want to reach out, to stop him, to beg him not to leave. But I can't. I won't.

Orion turns to face me. "I will do everything in my power to return to you," he promises.

His face is worn, the lines deeper than I remember, and his jaw is set tight, as though he's holding back something he can't afford to release. I see the man I've known all my life—the protector, the warrior, the father who's always been there. But then, just as quickly, the mask falls back into place, and I know he's already half gone, pulled away by a duty I can't begin to understand. I don't know how to respond. A mixture of fear and anger bubbles up inside me. Fear for his safety, anger at the circumstances that force him to leave. Every breath in feels shallow and weak. This is it. The last time I might ever see my father like this. Here, in this room- in our home.

It can't be this way. Not like this. With him looking at me the same way- Like I'm a memory he's already preparing to leave behind.

"I'm coming with you," I insist, desperation edging my voice. It's childish, my last hopeless plea, but it's all I have.

Orion's expression softens, and there is a sound akin to a broken chuckle that escapes him.

"You know I can't let you do that."

I know. So I don't fight him.

At Orion's request, I leave to get Solaris while he finishes packing. At this hour, she's already been retired to her stable. Outside, insects buzz. Calls and clicks that echo, silenced only by the threatening hoot of a nearby owl. The music from the feast is only heard when I do my best to focus in on the song.

It reminds me too much of yesterday morning, when I had been forbidden to enter the village. When I should have listened to Aunt Elora's insistence of a storm, and been satisfied from listening to their songs from a distance.

I watch the line of men leading into the forest, long tables being lifted by the groups and taken back to the village like ants trailings off from a picnic with crumbs.

With the stable in my vision, I call out to Solaris, despite knowing her hearing is almost nonexistent, attempting to announce my presence before approaching.

The moon has casted a silver sheen over the night, but it's no match for her. Even from the shadows, tucked into the corner, she shines.

Two pools of swirling liquid amber glint nearly orange with bronze, blinking in the dark.

"Hello, pretty girl," I coo out to her.

Undeniably, she has noticed my presence before I have even spoken, and gives me a knicker of acknowledgment. The soft earth makes no sound as she steps forward, elegant as ever in her age.

"Thought you'd been retired, didn't you?"

I move closer, my hand outstretched to let her catch my scent. Solaris lowers her head, nuzzling my palm in greeting with her velvet nose. The warmth of her breath against my skin is comforting, familiar.

"I haven't thanked you for saving me yet- Me and Jovanna." I run my hand along her coat, feeling the power humming just underneath. Her golden fur ripples under my touch, revealing an undercoat color of pure light. I take a deep breath, grounding myself in her presence, tethering my entire being to this memory before fastening the bridle.

Her saddle is much harder to lift, much heavier, but she kneels to make it easier.

The weight of Aunt Elora's absence has set like a stone in my stomach, and Solaris leaving cements it there permanently.

With another deep breath, I lead her out of the stable and into the open night.

Orion waits by the front door, and I nearly freeze at the sight of him.

I can not remember the last time I have seen my father wearing his Daenara pelt. The majestic snow white fur shimmers in the moonlight. Obsidian black armor underneath gleams. Worn leather ties his mythical pan flute across his body. He should look every bit the legendary warrior I've heard tales of, an image of bravery of strength.

But he mostly looks sad.

Solaris breaks into a trot at the sight of him.

"There's my girls," my father praises. But we are not all here. Aunt Elora is missing.

Will the necromancer know where? Should I look for her coffin while Orion is gone?

I force the thought from my mind, focusing on the task at hand. There will be time for worries later. Right now, I need to see my father off.

But despite every effort to remain stoic for him, those insistent tears well up in my eyes.

Orion notices my distress has reached a breaking point, and disregards the saddle bags completely, hands reaches out to brush away the straying runaway tears.

"Kaia, you know I wouldn't ask this of you if there were any other choice," he begins, his voice low and pained. "Please. Trust in your strength. Take care of our home. And keep yourself safe."

I nod, unable to find any words.

His hands find themselves at my shoulders, grounding me, and holding me up all the same. "You have always been smart. You have your mother's spirit in you. Liliana still needs someone to play for her. You will be alone, but things will be okay."

With that, I'm enveloped in my father's arms again, and I wonder if this will be the last time I find myself here.

"Remember what I've taught you," he adds, voice firm.

"Stay safe," I say, my voice cracking.

He doesn't break the hug just yet as he swears, "I will return to you, my daughter."

I can not pull away. And so I force Orion to once again do the impossible.

My father releases me, and steps back.

Now I clutch only the fading warmth of his embrace. The night air feels colder, whispering promises of loneliness and uncertainty.

With a deep breath, I wipe away the remaining tears staining my cheeks.

When the bags have all been secured to the saddle, Orion mounts Solaris.

The sight of them together is a stark contrast - my father in his dark armor astride the golden antlered doe, destined for battle and adventure, while I stand rooted in place, feeling small and insignificant in the face of his departure.

Where is Prince Noadok's charm now? His all knowing wit to ensure he'll fix this mess?

My father's eyes trail off in search of him, and he's easy enough to spot.

Alone again, and shadowed by the edge of the woods.

Solaris stamps her front hooves, eager for the journey ahead. I wonder if she knows Noadok. If long ago on dark nights, my father would ride Solaris into the Winter Court, where a little Prince waited for his aid to sleep.

My father exchanges a knowing look with the Prince, a silent communication passing between them that I can't decipher.

I walk next to Solaris, following until we're at the tree line and I've already taken the very last step I can take.

My father halts Solaris at the edge of the forest, turning to face me with a look that speaks of a silent farewell. There are no words left unspoken between us, just the echo of shared memories and some unshed tears lingering in the night air.

Noadok's gaze flickers to me briefly, and for a moment, it feels like he sees through the facade I've built to mask my fears.

The Prince attempts a smile at me as they turn to face the darkness, lips curving upwards, dimples and all, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

It's probably the only smile the Prince has ever given that hasn't knocked anyone off their feet.

What was the last thing Noadok said to me? That he was about to do me one final favor.

A hollow ache spreads within my chest.

The moonlight bathes them in a ghostly glow as they walk, turning them into silhouettes against the darkness beyond until they finally disappear.

There is nothing left to do. Nothing to keep me here. I stand aimlessly, watching the horizon as if I could will them back to this realm. Believing that if I can stand here for a couple more seconds, the light will catch, and I'll see something. Solaris. Orion's armor. The Prince's twilight dark eyes.

But nothing comes.

Minutes turn to an eternity. The silence around me as heavy as a cloak. I can still feel the phantom pressure of my father's arms around me.

My jaw sets, and I reach up suddenly to clasp at the pendant necklace I have received from the Prince, a reminder that- Yes, it was real. Yes, there had been a Fae Prince here. Yes, the Prince had vowed there would be another here soon. His necromancer. In under a months time, had been the promise.

And so, I straighten my spine, and lift my chin. My limbs are stiff from lack of movement, but I make the turn away from the darkness nonetheless.

Even stragglers of the feast are leaving now. My feet move, not on their own accord, but forcibly, with every ounce of my being focused on moving forward.

I ascend the staircase to my room with heavy deliberate steps, each creak of the wooden boards echoing in the otherwise quiet cottage. Our home is not used to such emptiness, and I fumble around in an attempt to fill it.

My pan flute is on my dresser, right where I left it.

Smaller than my fathers. And certainly not made in the Fae Realm.

Thin leather strips wrap around the base, holding the pipes together, and tiny engravings— swirling patterns done by Orion—are carved along the edges, subtle but intricate. The only part of it that shows much wear is the mouth piece, the wood slightly darker where lips have pressed time and time again.

I clutch it to my chest and hope I will be enough for Liliana.

It's hard to say what time it is now. Not yet dawn, but when I step outside and check the stars, they have shifted. Time has passed more swiftly than I realized, the night slipping away like sand through an hourglass. I manage to catch on with the very last group of leaving back to the village, mostly elders and musicians, tagging on according to their lantern light.

"...unbelievable!" Surprisingly, I realize among them is Isadora, still in high spirits. "Who knew he had anything else on him, ah? Generous guy."

From her hands, glints impossibly brighter than even the stars, Prince Noadok's daggers.

I nearly stumble.

The Prince has left without his weapons.