“Come find me,” a little boy said.

Zeph turned and couldn’t keep the grin from sliding across his lips. “I wonder where he could be?” Zeph mused. “Is he under this rock?” He made a big show of looking underneath. “No, not there.” Zeph heard giggles coming from the thick, tall wheatgrass that swayed in the sweet-tempered breeze. Zeph made his way toward it when a little boy jumped out, hair white as milk, arms flailing. “No fair. You knew I was there all along.”

Zeph wanted to deny it. He tried to, but his tongue grew thick in his mouth. Curse the inability to lie. “All right, I knew. Your shadow was showing. A tiny bit. We’ll work on it.” Then Zeph pointed a finger at him. “And next time, don’t laugh.”

“I tried to hold it in.”

“We’ll work on that, too.”

Together, they walked back to the monastery, side by side. They did this twice a year, every year for the past six years. It was tradition now.

“Uncle Searly will be upset if we’re late.” The boy looked up at Zeph with sharp blue eyes. “Mum especially.”

Zeph’s lips tilted into another grin as he looked at the setting sun, lowering like a rose on a stem. “We won’t be late. We’ll pick up our pace.”

They entered the refectory just as everyone was sitting down to eat. Arwyn gave Zeph a reproving look, but Zeph appeased her by kissing her tenderly, once, twice, three times on the lips.

“You’re forgiven,” she said.

“We weren’t late,” Zeph said.

“That’s debatable,” she replied.

“You’ve already forgiven me,” Zeph responded.

Arwyn pursed her lips. Zeph grinned again. It simply could not be helped. He took the seat beside his wife. His son took the seat on the other side of his mum.

Immediately thereafter, supper and chatter ensued.

Everyone looked forward to this gathering every year. Their lives in Faery were busy, though it was rewarding, too. Zeph shouldn’t complain. He loved his life.

Looking around the table, he realized someone was missing. “Where’s Favián?” Zeph asked.

“He couldn’t make it this time,” Searly answered.

“How disappointing,” Elin said. “I was looking forward to his visit.”

Searly looked up from his plate and offered everyone a reassuring smile. “He’s assured me he will make it up to everyone soon.”

Arwyn smiled, though it was a disappointed smile. She missed Favián. She had been looking forward to seeing him.

Zeph reached for Arwyn’s hand underneath the table and gave her a gentle squeeze. She responded by gently squeezing back.

“Stop kicking me,” Zuriel said to Alanis. She was Elin and Lochlan’s daughter, and Zeph thought his niece was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, aside from his wife, of course. And holy hell did Zuriel give Alanis a difficult time of it.

“I wouldn’t kick you if you wouldn’t steal my fruit,” Alanis said. “Eat your own fruit.”

“Yours tastes better.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Alanis said. “It’s the same fruit.”

Lochlan stared at Zeph across the table with narrowed eyes.

Zeph cleared his throat. “Zuriel, leave Alanis’s fruit in peace, please.”

“But—”

Zeph held up a hand. “No stealing fruit.”

“Don’t kick your cousin,” Lochlan said to his daughter.

“But—”

Lochlan cut her off. “No kicking.”

“Have I never taught you kids the insult game?” Searly chimed in.

“Don’t, Searly!” the adults answered in unison.

“What’s the insult game?” Zuriel and Alanis asked.

“It’s a game where you insult one another. All in good fun, of course. Your fathers have played it before.”

“They have?” Alanis asked, looking at her father with skepticism.

“He wasn’t very good at it, I’m afraid,” Searly said.

Lochlan’s narrowed eyes turned to Searly then. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m nothing if I’m not honest.”

“Can I insult Alanis?” Zuriel asked excitedly.

“No!” the adults responded.

“Well, that’s not fair. You got to do it,” Zuriel pouted.

“See what you started?” Zeph said.

“If you teach them how to do it the right way—”

“No!” the adults answered.

“You all take the fun out of being a godparent,” Searly mumbled.

 

After supper ended, Zeph took a walk by himself, wanting to visit his parents’ graves, preferring to do it alone.

He sat on the ground like so many times before and put his back against a tree, crossing his feet. He didn’t speak. He just sat with them, drawing little circles in the dirt with his finger. It was dark, and Zeph still liked the company of the dark. The moon was out, but it was wan, far away, like the hoot of an owl.

“You did it, you know,” Searly said.

Zeph had heard the footsteps approaching, so it wasn’t his voice that startled him. It was his words. “What did I do?” he asked.

Uninvited, Searly took a seat beside Zeph. “Arwyn sent me out here. She said you three will be leaving soon.”

“We would stay, but Zuriel has a tough time sleeping in a bed not his own.”

“I’m just happy you came.”

Zeph nodded. “We’ll always come, Searly.”

They listened to the sounds of nature a few more minutes before Zeph couldn’t resist asking once more, “What did I do?”

Searly pointed to the crosses on the graves. “You gave yourself the story worthy of your parents. A pretty remarkable story at that.” Searly inclined his head and looked at Zeph the way a father would look at his son. Zeph would know because it was how he looked at his own son.

For a moment, Searly’s face appeared to melt like hot wax, but Zeph realized it was the burn of hot tears. He turned away and made haste to wipe away any evidence and said, “Thank you.”

Searly slipped an arm around Zeph’s shoulder. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Will you tell me the story again? Please?” Zuriel begged. “I love the story how Father became king and you became queen.”

Arwyn tapped him on the nose with the tip of her finger “All right. But you must close your eyes because it’s late.” She reached over and blew out the lamp.

“I promise,” he said.

Zeph listened from just outside Zuriel’s chamber door, a smile playing on his lips.

“Not so long ago,” his wife said in a soft, lilting voice, “a cruel Unseelie King wanted to rule all of Faery.”

“His name was Rolim,” Zuriel said.

“That’s right,” said Arwyn.

“And Father killed him.”

“He sent him away, rather,” Arwyn replied. “To a faraway realm where he can never escape.”

“That’s even worse,” said Zuriel.

Arwyn drew quiet, and then said, “Yes, I certainly hope so.”

“And then Father became King of Faery.”

“Well, not just so. That came a bit later. You see, your father was not supposed to come back either from the realm of Twilight.”

“But the angel sent him back,” Zuriel said.

“That’s right,” said Arwyn. “And when everyone in Faery saw your father and learned what happened, they saw it as a sign and declared your father king.”

“He didn’t want to be king, though,” Zuriel announced. Zeph could picture him sitting up in bed, chest puffed, chin raised. “He told me.”

Zeph could hear the smile in Arwyn’s voice when she said, “No, he certainly did not. He had to be convinced. Your Aunt Elin and the rest of us helped set up a new Faery Court in the meantime. Faery needed leadership, rules, laws. Or else it would fall into disarray. It was important that everyone was represented. To this day, the Royal Court has a representative from every village, big or small. Once the court was assembled, they held a vote. Who would be king?”

“And they voted Father.”

“That’s right. They voted your father. After the second time of Faery saying with their voice they wanted him to be their king, he conceded. Your father has been their king ever since.”

“He’s been the best king ever!” his son said with a punch of enthusiasm.

Zeph bit his lip, biting back a laugh, and entered the room. “If I’ve been a good king, Son, it is only because your mum is the most excellent queen.”

“Oh yes,” his boy corrected. “I didn’t mean to exclude you, Mum. Not at all.”

Arwyn laughed and tousled her son’s hair. “It’s all right. Now, you promised you would close your eyes if I told you this story and you talked all the way through. It’s bedtime for you, my luv.” She kissed his cheek. “See you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” he repeated.

“Good night, Zur,” Zeph said.

“Good night.”

Zeph took Arwyn by the hand and led her out. “Ready for bed?”

“You go on. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Everything all right?”

“Of course,” she answered. “Searly gave me a letter from Favián before we left Mirova. I thought I’d read it before bed. I’ll be along soon.”

Zeph kissed her forehead, let his eyes fall shut as he smelled her hair—wild berries, the scent making his heart do wild things. Those three little words formed on his tongue. He had become so familiar with the taste of them now. He liked the texture, the form, the feel of them so much that he rolled the words around a bit before saying them. But then he did. And even though he’d been telling her these words for the past six years, they always felt monumental.

“I love you,” he said. “So very much.”

Arwyn breathed him in, inhaling, as though she was making him a part of her. “I know,” she said. “And I love you.”

He released her with reluctance. “Take your time, my sweets. Come to bed when you’re ready.”

Arwyn unfolded the letter from Favián and began to read.

 

Dearest Arwyn,

 

I met someone. She’s kind, thoughtful, always thinking of others. She reminds me so much of you. We met on one of my journeys and we fell in instant like with one another. She makes me laugh. I’ve wanted to tell you about her for a while. Every time I sat down to write the letter, a part of me couldn’t get the words to come.

I think a lot about the first time you and I met, about how easy it was to talk to you, and how easily you made me laugh. I was just a boy then. But you made me feel like a man sailing on top of the world. I’m still sailing whenever I think of you.

So, it’s best if I think of you less and think of Miryam more. Miryam, that’s her name. You would like her. She is so lovely. But you like everyone because that’s the kind of person you are. Zeph is incredibly lucky to have you, and Faery is incredibly lucky to have a queen as wonderful as you.

And I, Arwyn, am incredibly lucky as well. You’re my—sister, right? And I have the most amazing sister the world has ever known. Tell your son that I got a present for him. I will bring it with me on my next visit. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the trip this time. I was busy getting married.

Surprise!

I hope you are happy for me. Of course you are. I can practically feel your excitement from here. Thank you. I wanted you to be the first to know. You may tell the others now. I can’t wait for everyone to meet her.

All right, I must be going.

I’ll see you soon, mi corazoncito.

 

With love,

Favi.

 

Arwyn traced the letter with the tips of her fingers, tears brimming in her eyes. “Yes, Favi,” she whispered. “I’m happy for you.” She kissed the letter and held it to her heart.

As Zeph waited for Arwyn to come to bed, he unfolded his own letter he’d received from Favián, only this one was years old and only consisted of a few lines. He’d found it in his room the night Favián left the monastery with his father.

He had kept it with him ever since, taking it out to read daily. It was a reminder for Zeph, and as he read, he silently thanked Favián for being one of the first to call him his friend.

 

Do not fear your darkness, Zeph.

You are the space between the stars, the weight under the sun, the canvas of the moon’s glow, stitching the fabric of the sky in place.

You are neither man, nor monster, my friend. You are the magic that makes everything else shine.

 

Until we meet again,

Favián