Lord Orrost’s visit passed without the need for Idris to do anything. He sat in his armchair by the window and listened to the dragon horns announce Orrost’s arrival, and he sighed deeply and tried to take a nap. Part of him was glad that he would not be forced to attend the long meetings and staged appearances, or the balls and dinners he usually suffered through. It was better to be alone with his thoughts.

He did not accept visitors after Cressida’s admission. Only she was permitted to come to Idris’s rooms, besides Willard and Lila and the healers, and while the visit took place, nobody came. Most days he passed in the armchair, like he had done when they had first taken his foot, silent and gazing out at the spring sunshine he was missing. He had lost track of how many days Orrost had been in the kingdom when Lila brought him his dinner tray and he noticed how flushed her cheeks were.

“Sword practice?” he said, accepting the tray.

“Oh. Yes, Sir Idris. Sorry, I am sweaty, I will bathe before dinner.”

“How is your form?”

“Much better, now Lady DeTrentaville is helping me,” Lila said, and then clamped her mouth shut like she was not meant to say anything.

Idris had no idea that Lila had accepted training. In fact, he thought Riette had left the capital weeks ago.

“If you are training to become the lady’s squire, Lila, I have no quarrel with that –“

“No, sir, that’s not it,” she said quickly. “I… she offered. I was in such a silly state after everything that happened and she thought it might help. She is a wonderful teacher. I’ll be able to protect you better in the future, that’s all.”

Idris nodded, thinking.

“She asks about you,” said Lila, half-casually. “She would very much like to see you. I know you do not want guests, not while…”

“Not while I am grieving,” Idris finished. It was better to accept that grief was what he felt, rather than try to be rational about the situation with his leg. It was a painful loss that he felt stupid about crying over, but he had no desire to make merry or endure small talk. He needed time. “But… if she is staying, maybe soon.”

“It will be nice to socialise with noble ladies. A change of pace for you,” said Lila. Then, blushing, “Begging your pardon, sir. I do not mean to make any insinuations, or…”

Idris shook his head placidly. Maybe Lila was right. If his current condition was any indication, he might not be alive to enjoy anyone’s company for much longer.

“The apple blossoms are over?” he said.

“Yes. But the tulips are bigger than last year.”

“I hope to be walking before the apple harvest.”

“I would be glad to accompany you, sir. That would be a wonderful first outing for your new boots.”

There was a sudden, rhythmic knock that Idris had come to recognise as Willard’s, and the hedge witch let himself in.

“Time for dinner already?” he said, coming over to the armchair.

“It is. Will you join us?”

“Gladly.”

The three of them settled to their meal. Willard gushed about the garden he was cultivating in the corner near the stables – they were even allowing him to bring his pigs – and he checked notes in his brand-new copy of Circles and Lines with Idris. Lila showed off her newly embroidered sheath, beautifully crafted with blooming black clematis and trailing vines. They told Idris of the ladies in their gowns and the orchestras trailing their instruments in for the evening’s entertainments, and he imagined it all as a silent observer, content in his isolation.

“There is… something I was meaning to discuss,” said Idris quietly as Willard poached pears from Lila’s dish.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Aye?”

“My contract with the fae is unfulfilled.”

Lila stiffened. Willard frowned, chewed his pear.

“I had a… a bright dream,” said Idris. “Of the Fairy Court. Just after… everything. The Fairy Queen worded our contract with such vagaries as to implicate me in finding the remaining pieces of Spirit Glass in the Dead Walker armour. I will not be released until the breastplate and pauldrons are gone. The poppet was quite fine, though. I think she likes me.”

Willard’s chewing had slowed to a dead stop. Lila’s grip on her plate was white.

“I do not expect your fealty or obedience, not ever and certainly not in this,” Idris said. “It is dangerous, harmful work. But you should know, I do have work to do, still, and I intend to complete it. Even if that work… kills my whole leg. Or myself. As soon as I am mobile and healthy again, I will be on the hunt. I thought you should be the first to know.”

Willard swallowed his mouthful, placed a tender hand on Idris’s wrist.

“Fae’s my specialty,” he said warmly. “I’d be glad to help out.”

“What is the use of sword training if I do not intend to use it?” said Lila, sitting straight and proud. “Lead the way, Sir Idris. I will follow.”

Idris smiled, held both of their hands tight. “Thank you. That has eased my heart.”

“When are you getting back on your legs, anyhow?” said Willard, nudging the armchair. “You must be bored stiff in this old chair.”

“The weavers are supposed to –“ started Lila, and there was another knock. “I’ll get it. That might be them.”

She returned with a large chest and a big smile.

“Gentlemen,” she said, setting it on the ground, “we have boots.”

*

Uncle Haylan’s old advice rang true for the next week or so.

“Trying,” he used to say, “is the best we can do most days.”

As a child, Idris loathed the sentiment, that failure was inevitable and he had to be fine with it. As an adult, with new prosthetics to get used to, he relished the comfort of acceptance. He carved the motto in the inside lip of the chest so that every time Lila flipped it open, it was there.

It was evening when Idris decided he would leave the safety of his rooms to walk in the garden.

“’S’maybe a little early,” said Willard, watching Lila pull the sock over Idris’s stump. “The sutures’ve just come out.”

“I will walk softly,” said Idris, raising his eyebrows at the hedge witch. Lila suppressed a smile. She slipped the rubber sleeve over the sock and selected the training boot from the chest. “Besides, I missed the meteor shower yesterday and I am tired of missing the outside.”

“You are bright today, Idris,” said Willard, returning to his book.

“I am feeling optimistic, yes.”

“How does that feel?” said Lila, before she slid the boot on.

“Comfortable, thank you.”

The boot went right over the rubber and was attached to the specially-moulded cup with a series of pins. At first, Idris was alarmed about walking around without all of his straps and buckles, but after the first tests, he realised the weavers were better at this than he had imagined.

“There,” said Lila, sitting back. The new foot was mostly a bronze skeleton, hinged at the ankle. “I will fetch your cane and crutches. Wait there.”

It was not long before she was back, but Idris had not even stood from the edge of the bed when he heard, “Is this a bad time, Sir Idris?”

He turned. Kurellan was there, hands behind his back.

“Oh. Good evening, Judge Kurellan,” said Idris, confused. Lila bowed; Willard waved, without removing his face from the book. “Was my door open?”

“It was.” Kurellan cleared his throat, gestured to the bronze foot. “New shoes?”

“New legs,” said Idris. “What brings you here?”

When the old judge still did not speak, Idris asked his companions to leave. At last, Kurellan approached and placed a thick stack of paper on the bed.

“What is this?” said Idris.

“Dravid Orrost’s full confession.”

Idris nodded, ran a finger over the twine holding the papers together. “His father?”

“Dravid will be punished by execution, in his home kingdom.”

“That is an awful thing for a father to decide.”

“It was the correct punishment for treason and warmongering. However…” Kurellan sighed. “There is information in those pages which I feel is pertinent to you.”

Idris frowned, looked at the old man. Kurellan shrugged.

“Something about glass,” he said pointedly.

Idris was not sure how Kurellan knew what only Lila and Willard were privy to, but the old man was a judge and he supposed was able to figure most things out. Strangely, it was comforting that Kurellan knew and was willing to help.

“I thank you, Your Honour,” said Idris. “I will take good care of Dravid’s final words.”

“You’d better.” Before he left, he turned and said, “Duty first. Duty always.”

“Duty always,” Idris replied quietly. Kurellan nodded once and walked out.

Carefully, Idris rocked himself onto his feet, waited a moment to test for pain and felt none, and he walked clunkily to the small desk by the window. Now was not the time to think about Dravid Orrost or Spirit Glass. He put the stack of papers in a drawer, locked it tight, and wandered stiffly out of his bedroom to his parlour. The two extra inches did not seem like much when he looked in the mirror, but they made the difference when he had to walk.

“What was that?” said Lila. Idris smiled easily, shook his head.

“Not tonight.” He held out his arm for her. “Tonight, we stroll.”

Lila beamed, took his arm and passed him his cane.

“You two young things be right careful,” said Willard, putting his feet on the table.

“I thought you were learning noble manners?” said Idris as Lila shut the door.

“One step at a time,” she said lightly, redirecting his attention. “Ready, Sir Idris?”

“Ready.”

“After you.”