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“He’s staring at it again.”
Lilia frowned. “I don’t understand why.”
Malleus wasn’t sure he believed Lilia. There was the way the corners of his lips curved upwards, belying the pleasure he took in Silver’s joy. And of course, Lilia knew—had always known—far more than he’d let on.
As upset as Malleus was that Lilia had hidden the circumstances surrounding his own birth, as well as Silver’s, he was just happy that Lilia was here. What he’d tried to create in the dream domain was nothing compared to having Lilia here in the present, accepting responsibility for his own part in things, even if it the blame had ultimately been Malleus’ alone.
The real Lilia was better than any version from a dream, even if he could be incredibly stubborn about the most ridiculous things.
“How many times is he going to pull that dratted thing out?” Lilia huffed next to him, and this time, it was Malleus who couldn’t help smiling.
“Maybe he needs to be reminded that it’s not a dream,” Malleus suggested.
“My son,” Lilia said. “Silver Vanrouge.”
“Your son,” Malleus agreed. “He’s very stubborn. I can’t imagine where he picked that up from.”
Lilia wagged a finger at Malleus. “I will accept blame for Silver’s hardheadedness, but you get yours from your mother.”
Malleus would have to take Lilia’s word for it. He didn’t miss his mother—it was difficult to miss someone that had never been in your life—but he did wonder what things might have been like if she’d survived.
Then again, chances were good that if Maleanor had survived, Silver would not have. Had he been alive at the time? If Lilia had found him as an infant, how many years would that have been in a human lifespan?
Regardless, Silver was here now, thanks to the protective spell of a trio of ancient fairies and the determination of an obstinate bat fae who was just as old.
Not that you would know it, looking at him now.
“I remember when he was just a child,” Lilia said. “He’d asked about his ears.”
“They’re round,” Malleus said.
“He wanted to know why his were different, why they didn’t change no matter how much he pulled on them.”
That was news to Malleus.
“I teased him,” Lilia said. “I made light of something that was very serious to him. But then, he has always been a very serious boy. And because of that, he ran away.”
Malleus remembered that. He hadn’t known about it until after Lilia had found Silver. The Zigvolts had assisted in the search, and by the time Malleus had heard about it, Silver had developed a fever, one that Lilia had been nursing to the best of his ability.
He might have had his own way of parenting, but it was obvious how much he cared. It had come as a surprise, finding out that Lilia had adopted Silver to show Malleus, by example, that humans and fae could coexist peacefully.
He’d certainly done that. Lilia had thrust Silver into Malleus’ arms, insisting that Malleus was capable of taking care of this helpless, squalling creature.
It had been a mere blink of an eye when Silver had stopped crying. Once he’d learned to speak, there had been no reason to cry. Hunger and pain could instead be expressed in words. Not that Silver had been one to complain very often. Once he’d learned to do chores and had begun training, he kept himself occupied, often tending to minor scrapes and burns himself.
It wasn’t uncommon for Malleus to arrive at Lilia’s cottage to find Silver alone, a bandage wrapped around his arm or taped to his leg.
The first time Malleus had seen the look of dismay on Silver’s face when Lilia got it into his head to bake a cake, he hadn’t understood it. Not until Lilia had presented something that only vaguely resembled a cake. Suffering through Lilia’s whims in the kitchen was something that only he and Silver—and later, Sebek—could understand.
It was a small thing, but it was the first time when Malleus had felt a kinship with anyone other than Lilia.
Funny, how Lilia had been the one making Malleus forge connections with others. It had been his plan, when he’d adopted Silver, but Malleus wondered if Lilia anticipated the shape those connections would take.
Next to him, Malleus could hear Lilia’s breath catch as he watched Silver remove his pen from his pocket yet again.
Sometimes, it behooved a monarch to nudge his subjects in the right direction. He could do no less for a friend.
Malleus glanced in Silver’s direction.
For his friends, plural.
“Have you talked to him?” Malleus asked.
“I talk to him every day.”
Malleus sighed. “You and I may have had a heart-to-heart during our time at STYX, but have you done the same with Silver?”
Lilia shook his head. “No, I suppose I haven’t.”
Malleus wasn’t the best at reading people, but he’d known Lilia a long time.
“Don’t tell me the former general of the right is afraid of a small human boy.”
“He’s a man now,” Lilia corrected, and then he slapped himself on the forehead. “I don’t know where you got your deviousness from, hatchling.”
“I haven’t been a hatchling in over a century!”
Lilia grinned at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and then his expression grew serious. “No, you haven’t. And Silver is no longer that little boy who ran out in the rain when he learned we weren’t blood related.”
“A wise fae once said you’ll experience failures and setbacks. That there may be days when your heart feels like it’ll shatter into a thousand pieces. And a good parent must ensure their child can handle such harshness while still under their protection.”
“You have an annoyingly good memory for random details,” Lilia pointed out. “Come to think of it, Silver has said the same about Sebek.”
“Lilia,” Malleus said sternly.
Lilia threw his hands in the air. “Fine, fine, I’ll talk to him. I don’t think there’s anything I can tell him that he doesn’t already know, but I’ll talk to him. And you don’t have to look so smug about it, you know.”
Even from this distance, Malleus’ sharp eyesight could see Silver bite back a smile, could see the little bead of blood welling up where his teeth had cut into his lip. He found it peculiar that Silver, a human, felt the need to conceal his joy. His magic had grown much in the past year, but not so much so that strong emotions would render him incapable of controlling his magic.
Then again, Silver was centuries old himself, and the son of a man who had slain a dragon. There could be hidden depths lying beneath that placid surface, especially considering that Silver was also the son of the fearsome general of the right.
Who was, finally, heading toward his son, his jacket flaring out behind him. There was a bounce in Lilia’s step that Malleus had feared he’d never see again.
Silver’s magic was far more powerful than Malleus had given him credit for, and Malleus had never been happier to be proven wrong.
“Still playing with that silly thing?”
Silver looked up, but his thumb continued to trace the engraved name on his pen.
“It’s not silly,” Silver said. His lips automatically curved into a smile, something Lilia was seeing much more of lately. “It’s real.”
Lilia’s heart twisted. “It always was. From the moment I heard you crying. Or at least, shortly after that.”
“You could have killed me,” Silver said. “Instead, you gave me a home. A purpose. A name.”
Lilia knew exactly what Silver was talking about, but he tweaked a lock of Silver’s hair anyway.
“I was never very imaginative when it came to names. Everyone I knew already had one when I met them.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “And Vanrouge was never a name meant to be passed on…but I am proud to share it with you.”
Silver’s eyes were shining, more brilliantly than the ring that Silver had been wearing when Lilia found him. The one that had shattered, the last of its power spent on bringing Lilia back.
It was probably silly that he’d formally adopted Silver, so close to his eighteenth birthday, but who was Lilia to argue when Silver’s mind was made up? As Malleus had pointed out, Lilia had raised a rather stubborn young man.
He couldn’t be prouder.
Silver had always been so serious, so determined in everything he did. When he was younger, he was easily frustrated, crying and whining when he felt he couldn’t go on. Lilia had started his training early—perhaps too early, according to the Zigvolts—but Silver was an apt pupil, especially when Lilia pointed out that everything was a form of training. Chopping wood, fetching water from the well, chasing after deer—everything Silver did helped him grow stronger, even with those once inexplicable drowsy spells.
It was so obvious, now, that the protective spell was to blame, but then, Lilia had so focused on protecting Silver from his past, that he’d been blind to what had been there the whole time.
Just as obvious in hindsight was how driven Silver was to be a knight, to protect Malleus and Lilia. Had it started when Silver realized that he and Lilia weren’t blood related? Lilia had been so relieved to find Silver, shivering and cold that day he’d run off, that he’d only been grateful that Silver had recovered from his fever with no ill effects. Had he been so blind that he hadn’t realized that Silver’s renewed zeal in training was an effort to repay a nonexistent debt?
He'd repaid Lilia plenty.
Lilia reached into his jacket and withdrew the item he’d tucked in the inner pocket the day Silver and Sebek had helped him pack. It was there the day of his farewell party, and therefore it had been there when he’d leapt in front of Silver, instinctively protecting his son, just as he had in his dream.
“Idia Shroud said that you used your ring, the one your parents had left you, to snatch my soul from the threshold to the underworld.”
“We used Malleus’ horn as well.”
“And I am grateful to you both. But if you want to talk about powerful magic…” he uncurled his fingers to reveal the treasure he’d hidden. “A young mage once gifted me this charm so I would have a long, healthy life. I’d say the oak tree fairies were spot on with that, wouldn’t you?”
Silver’s eyes shimmered again, and Lilia felt a brief flare of panic. Was he about to cry? He was used to that reaction from Sebek, but not from Silver.
“You kept it,” Silver said. “Even knowing who my birth parents were, you kept the bracelet. You called it one of your finest treasures.” He shook his head. “I never should have succumbed to the darkness. Sebek was right to call me a fool.”
“If you’re a fool, it’s because you were raised by one.” Lilia rubbed one of the acorns between his fingers. “I never meant to make you cry. Malleus scolded me for that, you know.”
Silver’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to, and especially not in front of Malleus.” He brushed the mage stone end of his pen against his lower lip. “It is still hard to believe how many people have shown me they care. Ortho and Yuu asked how I was doing as we traveled through everyone’s dreams, to make sure I was up to the task. Sebek used his unique magic to reach my side when I allowed the darkness to overtake me. Malleus scolded you, and you, Father. You protected me from harm, using your own body as my shield, without thinking.”
“You’re my son,” Lilia said.
Silver ran his thumb over his pen again. “I am.”
“I suppose Silver Vanrouge does have a nice ring to it.”
Silver smiled. “I always thought so.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Lilia. “I would sometimes practice saying it, when I’d introduce myself to my friends in the forest.”
Lilia didn’t know what to say to that. Better late than never felt too flippant, even if Silver would readily agree. And, although it hurt his heart knowing that Silver had wanted this for so long, he was so fiercely proud of the man Silver had become.
Vanrouge might have been too heavy a burden for a small child, but it suited the young man Silver had become.
“You know, Father,” Silver said with a conspiratorial smile. “I will continue training, and one day, I will surpass you.”
Lilia tutted. “You and Sebek have been spending far too much time together for you to say something like that. And now that I’m back at school, I will have plenty of time to make you eat those words!”
Silver’s eyes twinkled, and then he went back to looking at his pen. After tracing the name one more time, he tucked it back into his pocket. As soon as his hands were free, a bluebird swooped down to perch on Silver’s finger.
“I don’t have any birdseed on me right now,” Silver apologized, and the winged creature nuzzled against Silver’s chin, as if it were the bird’s fault that seed was lacking.
With only the barest hint of shade from a nearby tree, the sunlight dappled Silver’s skin, making him look almost ethereal.
Fae-like.
“Father?” Silver asked. His gaze swept over Lilia’s face. “Your eyes are beginning to water. Do you need to get out of the sun?”
The sun. Yes, that was it. Lilia had always had a low tolerance for bright days.
He summoned a visor and put it on. “I think I can stand to be outside for a few more minutes.”
Silver smiled brightly, and then a second bird swooped down to land on his knee, receiving the same apology and chirping an agreement in response.
Lilia pulled the visor’s brim lower, shielding his eyes.
Ah, the things a man, fae or human, would do to make his son—his son—happy.
The things we do for love.