The joy of seeing the fairy circle again was a surprise to Idris. All of his dewy-eyed wonder at the realm of the fae had long ago vanished. He was tired, thirsty, hungry and violated, and he wished to be home more than anything.

For his part, Joa seemed regretful that it came to a public barter. He assisted Idris the whole way back – the crutches were still in the nest and Idris had vomited at the suggestion that the twig-foot be returned to his stump – and was gentle when he placed his charge back inside the mushroom ring.

“Keep to your side of the bargain,” he whispered, “and Mother will keep to hers. I swear it.”

Willard had tried to offer a poppet of his own, but the Fairy Queen had flat out ignored him. Nobody in the throne room would engage with Willard; they hardly even looked at him, as if his existence was far more revolting than Idris’s aptitude. Joa apologised for that, too.

“I am proud to have met you, Kin Willard,” he said, holding Willard’s face with tenderness. “Please do not think ill of my family. There are many reasons why we have not previously met. I hope we can meet again.”

Willard said nothing, but he hugged Joa tight and stepped backwards into the circle when he let go.

“Grant them passage,” Joa said to the nymph, who nodded and tapped her spear shaft twice on the earth.

It was similar to how they arrived. Details bled into the background, until the fae realm slipped past Idris like a dream evaded a waker. There, on the tree stump before him, was Lila.

“Sir Idris?” she whispered.

He tried to move, but something held him down. Eventually, he tore his arm up, ripping moss from his clothes; Willard pulled undergrowth off their legs. In their departure, the forest had covered them in soft foliage and roots.

“How long -?” breathed Willard.

“Only the afternoon,” Lila said, standing. “The moss, it… it just…”

“Here, Idris,” he said, holding out a hand. Idris grabbed above his elbow gratefully and hauled himself to his single foot, his hand clutching the cane tighter than he needed to.

“Sir Idris, you’re bleeding,” said Lila as the men left the circle.

“Yes.” It seemed trivial. “Yes, I must be.”

“Did they hurt you? Your leg, there are holes in –“

“They’ll heal right up,” Willard said quickly, easing Idris down onto the tree stump. “We need to eat, Miss Lila. And drink some. It’s been a lot longer in there for us.”

“Certainly,” she said, her gaze lingering on Idris, but she went to the tent for the supplies regardless.

“Holes?” Idris said faintly to Willard.

“Oh, it ain’t even noticeable.”

“In my stump, there are holes?”

“Don’t think about it too hard – thank you, Miss Lila. Here, drink up.”

“What happened to you?” Lila said, kneeling in front of Idris.

“It does not matter,” he said, frowning, tightening his grip on the cane. “I got what I needed. We… we need to go home. When can we leave?”

“Can I have some bandage and something to make him stop thinking?” whispered Willard.

The forest seemed dense, again, and obstructive. Idris felt weighed down. He allowed Willard to wrestle bandage around his stump and shove herbs into his mouth, and he drank the wine they had brought and welcomed how low it made his eyelids fall.

“He made a deal,” Willard finally said, as Idris lay to sleep. “We’re safe tonight.”

Idris held the cane like a comfort blanket and breathed in his smell of the moss.

*

The tension that had pervaded over the camp followed them into the carriage, even when Lila left to drive the horses. Idris sat with the cane between his thighs, jaw clenched. Willard sat and watched him.

When The Herald Wood was gone over the horizon, Willard spoke.

“That got real knotty real fast, huh?”

Idris swallowed hard and nodded.

“It did. Yes.”

Outside of the fae realm, everything that had flitted past him there hit him hard. The Spirit Glass in the cane. The way he spoke his old name like it meant something. The collections of his materials. The twigs, in his shin, in his thigh, under his muscle. The poppet they wove. The weight, the pure weight, and the heat still in his throat from the deal. It was like a nightmare that had not quite left him.

“Can you hear it?” said Willard, pointing at the head of the cane.

“I cannot.”

“Idris –“

“Do some exercises,” said Idris, hating the way Willard stumbled over everything he wanted to say. “From Circles and Lines. I… I will watch.”

Willard pursed his lips, nodded, and picked up the book.

The day rolled past them, darkening to rainclouds, then to dusk, with a chilly bitterness to the evening air. Lila stopped the carriage to ask if they wanted to continue on through the night.

“It looks like a storm is rolling through,” she said, “otherwise I would not ask.”

“We keep going,” said Idris quietly.

“Are you certain, sir?” she said.

“Yes. Please. It will be a miserable night for camping and I, for one, do not want to spend any more time in any expanse of trees.”

“Sir,” she said, dipping her head and giving Willard a meaningful look, but the hedge witch buried his head in the book and tried not to see her.

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Idris did not like storms. He liked them less when he had to be awake for them.

“Let us have a comfort break, then, before we continue,” said Lila, and she put the steps down and walked away.

“You do not have to stay in the carriage with me if you do not want to, Willard,” said Idris. “I am bad company right now, I know. If you would prefer to sit up front with Lila, I will not be upset.”

“Well…” Willard shrugged. “Let me stretch my legs some and I’ll tell you once I’ve felt the earth under my feet. Don’t you want to walk a little?”

Idris shook his head. Carefully, Willard left the carriage and closed the door softly behind him, and Idris was left in the half-light, alone.

He ran his thumb up and down the shaft of the cane, feeling the softness of the varnished wood. It was built perfectly for his height, felt superbly balanced when he lifted it, but he would be the first to admit that it frightened him. The entire structure was fae, from the blackwood they carved it from to the fell-gold collar that ran around the ball containing the Spirit Glass shard. Joa said he could flip the orb’s case open and reveal the shard when he needed to, but Idris had not done it yet. He did not want to hear its cry. The sapping crystal that had been perfectly polished and rounded like glass whirled with smoky grey and green. The outer surface, though, was glass, so that Idris could touch it without stripping any power out of himself. As an implement, it was handsome. What had been given to obtain it was ugly from the inside out.

Thunder rumbled outside. Idris shivered and sank deeper into his seat.

When they set off again, it was not long before the sound of fat raindrops began hammering on the carriage roof. Willard glanced up; wind rocked them.

“’S’going to be a wild one,” he said. Idris just nodded. “Idris, do you need anything?”

He shook his head, held the cane tight.

“What’s the plan?” said Willard.

“We meet Kurellan and Lady Riette at Veridia.” Idris pursed his lips at the next boom of thunder. “And I get orders. And back-up. And this is over.”

“What if that man gets there first?”

“He cannot. He has to start passing the more populous cities the closer he gets and I do not know how he will make it without being stopped by city guards.” Lightning cracked. Idris jumped and tensed. “He will have to go a more circuitous route. We have the advantage of the direct road.”

“Didn’t think important palacefolk like you jumped at a bit of lightning,” said Willard, his voice soft and concerned.

“I… storms give me bad memories. It is a recent fear.”

“The war?” he guessed. Idris nodded. “Lady Riette, she… she said you did some powerful magic in the war. I won’t ask, that ain’t polite.” Willard sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Idris. I feel right badly about it.”

“I did what I had to. You do not have to feel bad about any of it. I owe the kingdom that much.”

“You say that a lot.”

“Because it is true.” Idris clenched his jaw. “It is difficult to describe exactly how House Naga and the palace saved me. They gave me my whole life, my profession, my health. Whatever I must do, I will do it.”

“At the expense of your health and happiness?” said Willard.

“Always,” said Idris tersely.

“But –“

“This is not your concern, Willard,” he finally snapped, closing his eyes. “Just… work on your hand positioning.”

When Idris opened his eyes again, the hedge witch was dutifully studying from Circles and Lines, his face slack and sorrowful.

The storm pounded on, buffeting the carriage, cracking and howling through the night. Idris thought of thick mud and the scent of iron.

*

For the next four days, every time Idris slept, he dreamt of Braemar Field and fingers tearing out of the inside of his skin. He spent his days in the carriage, quiet and tense. Willard quickly realised that his presence inside the box was not welcome, and he retreated to the front seat with Lila, leaving the books behind. The weather was squally and changeable and the mud made the going difficult, but they made good time, and reached the border of Veridia province without even a whisper of the other necromancer.

Lila brought breakfast to Idris from a local dairy farm.

“Are you still sulking in here?” she said.

“Thank you, Lila.”

“And ignoring me?”

“How long until we reach the palace?”

She climbed in and slammed the door, and plonked herself on the seat opposite him.

“I’m going to slap you silly,” she said. “How dare you make Willard upset?”

Idris frowned. He had not realised Willard was anything except absent.

“He already feels responsible for everything that happened in the fairy circle,” she said. “But to make him feel low like you did, when he was trying to help you? That’s meaner than I know you to be.”

Shame crept over him, and he averted his eyes and fiddled with the cane’s handle.

“I never meant to be cruel,” he said softly. “I… I have been preoccupied.”

“How long have I known you, sir?” she said. “Since you were… seventeen? Neither of us are children anymore. I was there for you, wasn’t I, after Braemar? I know what happened. We talked about it for weeks, months. I sat through all of the night terrors, the cold sweats. If those… demons have resurfaced, you can talk to me.”

“I think we have to go back there,” said Idris.

Lila frowned, confused, concerned. “To Braemar? Why?”

He tapped the top of the cane.

“I need a strong aria. So does he. I think the best option he has to enter the kingdom and show his might is through Braemar.” He pursed his lips, shrugged. “And I am afraid,” he finally admitted, tears in his throat. “I do not want that to be true. If I go back to that field… and if I fail this time, Lila, the fae will own me. I am not strong enough. I am not ready. I will not fail Cressida or my uncle but if I go there, I am certain I will.”

Lila stood, sat beside him and hugged him. He hugged her back and felt, for the first time in days, like the weight that the fae left on him was lessened.

“If you fail,” she whispered, “you will fail with your friends beside you. You do not do this alone again.”

Idris cleared his throat, pulled back. “I will apologise to Willard. It was not personal.”

“I took the liberty of… telling him, about Braemar,” Lila admitted. “So he knows. You don’t have to go over that again.” She stood. “We will reach the palace tomorrow. Sir. Please eat.”

She hopped down the carriage steps. Idris drank the fresh cup of milk and chewed on warm buttered bread, and when Willard poked his head into the box, he made sure to smile.

“It was not you,” Idris said. “And I am sorry I –“

“I forgot it already,” said Willard, sitting in his seat like he had never left it. “Where was I in this book?”

“You do not want to sit in front to see the palace?”

“Miss Lila promised she would call me when we’re close to the hill. She is as glorious as spring sunshine and I do wish she could join us here.”

“Well…” Idris picked up Willard’s text, checked the diagrams. “The shape for control. Like this.”

He held his right hand just so.

*

The sun was rising when the carriage slowed, and Lila shouted, “Willard?”

Willard started comically from his sleep, blinked hard and tapped Idris’s knee.

“I am awake, Willard.”

“We there?”

“I think so.”

“The palace?”

“Just over the top of the hill, I imagine.”

He scrambled out of the carriage and Idris waited just a moment before he followed, using the cane to swing himself from step to step. The sky was scudded with silt-grey clouds, making the light glitter in silver-gold, and a stiff wind blew the grass flat like waves.

“Sir Idris,” said Lila, smiling. “There’s space for you.”

“Please.”

She and Willard helped him up onto the bench, and Lila chivvied the horses along. From the driver’s bench, Idris recognised this hill. He and Lila had eaten cheese sandwiches there what felt like a lifetime ago as he pointed to Marbury.

“Just over this hill?” said Willard.

“Just over this hill,” said Lila.

“It is a good backdrop for it, this morning,” said Idris. “It makes the lapis draconis look fiercer.”

“I ain’t never seen dragon stone,” said Willard, bouncing on the bench. “Nor pink marble.”

The carriage rolled to the top of the hill. The hedge witch gasped and let out a long, joyous sigh. Surprisingly, Idris felt tearful, seeing the glorious peach expanse, the glow of orange, the blue tile.

“It’s perfection,” Willard whispered. “You live there? It looks like a fluffy cloud. Like it’s made of blossom. I’m scared to blink in case it goes away.”

Idris wiped his eyes, sniffed; Lila squeezed his forearm comfortingly.

“Her Majesty will have scouts out, looking for us,” she said softly. “And there will be tea and cake on the table by the time we get back, sir.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, his words choked.

“Am I going to meet the Queen?” said Willard suddenly. “Oh King and Circle, Lila, I ain’t bathed for days, my hair is in knots –“

“She will not care,” said Idris. “I swear it. She will only be glad to see us alive and well.” He shifted. “I will retire to put on a prosthetic. It will not do for court to see me so disarrayed.”

“I can help,” said Willard, but Idris shook his head.

“Enjoy the view.”

Back inside the carriage, Idris closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall. It was good to be home.