"Do you bow to a king you despise?" King Syhoven had asked me. He asked it five years ago in the great hall where most all proceedings took place. In front of the onlookers, I had said I would not deceive, I did not despise him, my king. The king had laughed, and my despite had flowed outward, touching each person there until they all had seen through my lie.

But now he asked it again. "Do you bow to a king you despise?" The question brought involuntarily my feelings of him to the surface, showing him everything. There was despite, that much was true, but there were other things too. Satisfied with that answer and finding it sufficient, the king looked at me thoughtfully. He became noticeably more tense, and even his physical appearance gave it away. He spoke.

"Rozpalyty—"

"My name is Anna Chase," I interrupted flatly.

His hand twitched in agitation.

"Anna Chase," he said, "in good faith you have been brought here after 5 years, 7 months, and three day, to continue your life here in the clouds, if you so wish." He paused.

"However, there is an alternative."

I shifted my weight, unsure how to process the information. King Syhoven was a perfect picture of calm, but in his mind, it was anything but. He seemed as if the whole conversation disgusted him.

He started again saying, "I propose that you help me with some... business. It would be of great use to my kingdom."

I attempted to be as polite as possible, but instead my voice came out stiff. "My king, I am confused as to why you think that I would be willing to help you with any sort of proposed business."

It was undeniably awkward, he knew this as well as me. He sat on his finely carved chair, seated at the table. I stood six or more paces away near the door. I wanted out, away from him, and he knew this too.

"There has been political friction between my country and the country of the north. In keeping with this, they have tried their best to disrupt out kingdom's stability in the hopes that they may control the new king and change the weather patterns of their country for more prosperity."

Although the king and I both knew I would not accept his offer, I was intrigued by this new information. Being a thief on earth had largely contributed to my fascination with politics.

"But don't they know that we don't have enough people to supply the whole continent with good weather? If they change the weather patterns in the north, then the south will have to deal with cold winters instead."

The king shrugged. "They have been made aware. They believe that the rain and snow should be evenly dispersed throughout the entire continent."

I thought for a moment. "Wouldn't this cause issue? If all the countries have cold winters, then they cannot rely on other, better weather countries for additional food during the could months. Wouldn't it cause more widespread famine?"

"They have been made aware of that as well."

"Oh."

I flipped thought various thoughts as I considered the implications of the north trying to change the weather. Most people no longer believed that certain magicked humans lived in the clouds. It was discounted no different than the gods: while some people still believed, and most knew the stories, more still hardly cared about any of it, chalking it up to a fairy tale.

It seemed odd to me that not only was there a group of people who believed we existed but also disliked us.

I said as much but the king didn't have the same concerns.

He said, "Bribery and spies have always existed. Any wind controlling weather-makers could easily bring them to the clouds. It would not be as noticeable.

But I was still confused. "But surely they cannot mount an attack on our kingdom. That would require hundreds of people somehow getting into the clouds, and there haven't been any wars for over a thousand years."

The king's mood darkened. "There is no need for a war if they can force an heir to bend to their will. A puppet king would have the absolute power to change any weather patterns."

This seemed like the least concern. "The heirs are dead; it should be more problematic that you have no heirs and the king's death will result in turmoil. Have you not thought of this at all?" I said, angrier than I had anticipated.

And I was angry. The king winced ever so slightly as it surged across the room to where he was sitting.

He chose his next words carefully. "Under any other circumstance, you would be correct," he said, "but the problem is that there is a living heir. The prince is alive."

It felt like everything was spinning and I was suddenly dizzy. When I was a child, the prince, along with the princess, had gone missing. Less than a month later, their bodies had been found and the country had mourned with the king and queen over the death of the heirs. I was too young to fully understand all of it, but my parents had cried when it happened.

I tried to control my mood to no avail.

"The prince is dead," I breathed.

"Not anymore."

Not anymore.

"And the princess?" I dared to ask.

"We do not know."

Every emotion intensified and raged in my mind. I asked the unaskable.

"Where is the prince then?"

The hum of grief from the king told me more than his words.

"The prince was found by a group that was working with the northern kingdom. He is currently a diplomatic guest of his majesty, King Alsom of Del'nesur." The king made a rolling gesture with his hand and elaborated. "The kingdom of the north."

The implication was not lost on me. The prince was a prisoner.

In the silence that followed, I asked, "How long?"

There was so much pity that proceeded his statement that I almost missed it.

"About four and half years."

I blinked as I counted back on my fingers in growing horror. Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen— The prince had been fifteen. Fifteen.

I opened my mouth to scream vulgarities at the king, and suddenly I felt the roof of my mouth go cold as if it was freezing, and a stabbing pain shot through the front of my head. I screwed my eyes shut and put my tongue on the roof of my mouth to try and bring any form of heat back to my head.

It should have been illegal for kings to use any weather-making abilities on another person, just as it was illegal for the rest of us.

The king released his hold on his powers and the pain immediately ebbed enough for me to open my mouth again, but the king had used the time to get up from his chair and take the few short steps to where I was standing.

He grabbed my arm and leaned in.

"Rozpalyty," he whispered harshly.

"Vitko," I spat.

Father.

His voice was low. "You would be wise to keep you voice quiet. Are you not aware that the man who brought you here is still outside the door?"

It was true. His irritability and curiosity seemed faint in comparison to the turmoil in the room, but he was indeed right beyond the closed door.

"If you scream anything about this matter, that man behind the door is going to suspect that you are politically important. The only reason he thinks nothing now is because you look and sound so disgustingly of earth. Anyone will trade information if they think they will profit. Gossip spreads like fire."

I blanched at the thought of any information from this conversation being relayed.

He released my arm, and I pulled away as he went back to his chair in a flow of white robes.

"Four and half years," I repeated quietly. "Why haven't you sent anyone to retrieve him? How were you unable to keep a fifteen-year-old child safe from them?"

Oh, but the king was angry at my words, and his eyes flashed.

He said, "I would not let such things happen without cause." He paused, then continued. "Now that the prince is there, it would be impossible to come to an agreement that would allow him to be released.

"It is my understanding that you would be able to retrieve the prince from the prison undiplomatically. Of course, there will not be payment as this is not a request from the kingdom, but," he trailed off thoughtfully and looked at me in a way that I knew he was assessing my mood.

"But I have a feeling that you will not need one."

I squared my shoulders to the king.

"If I refuse?" I questioned him.

"Then I will reevaluate the situation."

I let out a bitter bark of laughter. There was no part of him that doubted I would agree to the request.

"I want to go home," I decided. "I want to talk to my father and my mother first. Discuss it with them."

The king's hand twitched again.

I smiled, but I knew it didn't reach my eyes.

He stared heavily at me.

"Then please, discuss. And when you have decided, you know where I will be."

I smiled grimly at the jab. How humiliating it must have been for the king to find out that a child no more than thirteen had been inside his palace multiple times every week for months messing with documents, breaking wax seals, and stealing possessions.

How much more humiliating it had been to be sent to earth over my own childish spite.

Maybe the king truly hadn't wanted to send me away, but the outrage in court and the external pressures to send me to earth before I became "dangerous" had forced his hand. I doubted that he could be swayed so easily. Ultimately, it had been his decision, and I despised him all the more.

I moved my hands quickly into the formal gesture and bowed. It was too brief, and the king raised an eyebrow. I shrugged at him. It had not been intentional, and he knew this. My mind felt too preoccupied to follow normal protocol.

The king lowered his eyebrow to give me an odd look.

"Ask that man to escort you out," he said quickly.

Before I could even turn to leave the room, he stood up and made for the door. I turned to watch as he passed me, opening the door only a fraction before he side-stepped it and left. He seemed to only feel anticipation. The door clicked shut behind him.

In his wake, I opened the door only to realize I was face to face with the water-controlling diplomat of the northern kingdom. He was just as confused as I was over the king's abrupt leave.

But I had decided a long time ago everything the king did was confusing.

I spoke to the man, far more conscious of my accent than usual. "His majesty, the king, has asked that you escort me out of the palace."

He gave a terse nod and started walking.

I followed him and as we came closer to where the hallway met the rest of the palace, I heard familiar voices. The king was talking in a low voice about something I couldn't quite make out. A feminine voice answered, equally undistinguishable. I understood now a least a portion of why the king had rushed out of the room so quickly.

I walked slightly faster until I was practically stepping on the shoes of the man in front of me.

I craned my neck around the corner but there were only a few attendants in the hallway. The king and his queen were gone.

With no incident, I was out of the palace. The man took me no further than the wide walkway flanked by ice. Again, I wondered how high ranking he would have to be to receive the formal gesture. Then I wondered, why did the king not trust him?

When we reached the end of the walkway, he stopped. With a slight flourish, he handed me a paper. It was the same one he had read from earlier that day, and I took it. It was the proof that I was no longer dismissed, that I was allowed to reside in the clouds again with no limits on my citizenry.

I folded the paper carefully and slipped it into a pocket that was sewn to the inside of my trousers. There was no need to look at the scrawl on the page. I trusted that if it ever needed to be read again, all the proper words would be there. And besides that, a piece of paper was hardly the forefront thought on my mind.

Away from the king and his palace, I could address the moment I had been waiting for since that dreadful day over five years ago. I could go home.

I looked around to the buildings as I oriented myself. The buildings around me were loosely packed, indicating the wealth of those who lived there. Further out, I knew, the buildings would be closer together and smaller.

I started walking, taking the turns from memory. There were people out walking with fine clothes and little care to the world, but as I walked away from the palace more people walked with a purpose. They had work to do and places to be.

As I passed people, I tried my best to avoid their stares. I didn't enjoy the constant bombardment of all of their feelings. Crowds had never been my forte.

Yulimer had told me early on during my time on earth that having to know every one of my moods was just as annoying. Still, it was only bothersome if someone was actually aware of me in their presence, or I of them. If I slept, I could tune everything out. And if those I lived with could distract themselves for the short while it took to stop thinking about me, they could tune me out too.

I finally turned onto the street I had been looking for. It was made of dirt, just as streets on earth were, but these walkways didn't feel so tightly packed. It was like there was a slight spring to my step, or like the path was swaying ever so slightly. I knew a man who had been on a boat once, and he said it was almost like being out on the water but less so.

Right before I reached the house I was looking for, I turned sharply into an alley way that led out to another street. I leaned against one of the wooden walls of the neighboring house. Large paper screens decorated the sides to let in sunlight during the day. I had missed the wooden walls.

The city I lived in on earth seemed obsessed with clay houses. The bricks were easy to make, I guessed, and the city had a long history with the structure. It was aptly called "The Red City," though I personally thought it was more orange. Jace said multiple times over that the red came from the color of the buildings, more specifically the castle towering over the buildings, as the sun was setting.

But truly, they were ugly compared to the wooden structures around me. We in the clouds not only grew out own trees, but every year we swept windstorms through some forest and took what we could of the trees. Whatever remained was burned with lightening, then controlled with the winds and rains. It was discovered long ago that it caused the forests on earth to thrive.

I found the familiar buildings comforting.

But I was dragging my feet over the real issue.

Years I had waited to return not to the clouds, but rather the small wooden home in front of me.

It was the truest family I had ever known.

I looked towards the front but there was no activity in and out of the building.

Someone in the street turned to look at me for the briefest of seconds. I caught his gaze. He seemed shocked to see me standing in the alleyway, but he didn't seem familiar. He looked to be my age and had a severe limp favoring his right leg. His skin seemed oddly pale as well. I was convinced that I if I had met this man, I would have remembered, and I wondered how he knew me.

When he had passed, I kept my attention on him for a few moments longer as his shock turned to confusion. I shook my head and severed the connection from his moods. I supposed it would remain a mystery.

I again focused on the task in front of me: walking into my home.

Surely, I thought to myself, I would need to plan out what I would say. It had been five years and there was no telling how much my mother and father had changed. The siblings I had grown up with were adults now. Some were probably married, maybe with children. How much had I missed? Did they still miss me? Or had the addition of these new family members filled the part that felt missing?

And then there was the irrational fear, would they even remember me enough to recognize me? Of course, they remembered me, I told myself.

I took a few deep breaths and adjusted my shirts into a more comfortable position. I walked out of the alley and rapped my knuckles on the front of the door. I waited for what felt like eons.

I realized, with a pit at the bottom of my stomach, that my family may not live in this house anymore. If Father had died, and then my eldest few brothers would have taken Mother to live with one of them, probably in a different house...

I lifted my hand to knock again, and the door opened. It was one of my older brothers. His eyes widened and he took a half step back in surprise.

"You are sopping wet."

(okay honestly, after this part i'm not sure exactly what I'm doing. This scene ends abruptly because I'm going to save it for later and just come back to it when I feel more prepared)

I smiled at the familiar exaggeration. Though I had been wet from the rain, the sun on the way to and from the palace has sufficiently dried my clothes until they were just a bit damp.

He turned to the stairs in the back of the room.

"Ma," he yelled.

"Just a moment, James," our mother called back, her voice muffled. She must be upstairs.

My brother turned back to me, grinning like a man who had gone mad. I grinned back.

Our happiness roared between us.

James clapped me on the shoulder and steered me inside saying, "Anna, I had no idea you were coming. We all really thought maybe they'd taken you to earth forever, we really did, I believe you haven't grown an inch or if anything you've gotten shorter, and I—"

I shook his shoulder cackling in glee at his ramble. "James, you haven't changed at all. Just breathe, brother."

He laughed too; it was a chuckle much deeper than I remembered.

"Well then come sit down," he said. "You'll have to tell us everything."

To my left, there was a door leading to the only other room on the bottom floor of the house. We walked through it still laughing, and each sat down on a cushion at the low eating table.

I was suddenly aware of how dirty I was, sitting on my mother's rather nice cushions. Surprisingly, on earth bathing was not difficult, and I did so often, but my clothes were covered in flecks of mud from the windstorm and I hadn't attempted to brush out my hair in months, opting to simply tie it back at every opportunity. It was now matted into place, but I kept it together with a string of leather anyways.

"James," my mother called again, and I turned to the doorway as she came into the room.

Her eyes met mine, lips forming into a small 'o' as she dropped the wooden bowls she had been holding. She didn't reach to pick them back up.

"Anna!" she said, her joy quickly spreading throughout the whole room.

I stood up quickly and closed the distance between us. She looked almost the same as she had five years ago. Surely, there were more wrinkles around her eyes, and her black hair that was tied up in a ball and cascaded down the rest of her head and neck was now tinged with streaks of gray, but there was also the same spark in her eye, the same round face and plump frame and perhaps everything else that could describe my mother.

She embraced me without a second thought. How long had it been since I had had a real hug such as this? As her arms wrapped around me, I felt like I was melting into her happiness.

She quickly released me and held me at arm's length and looked me up and down.

"Dear, you are sopping wet."

I rolled my eyes happily at the repeated phrase.

"So says everyone," I said.

She shook her head, still quite peacefully joyful until her eyes locked on one side of my face and her eyes narrowed.

She licked her thumb and brought it to my cheek, scrubbing just below my cheek bone. It stung a bit.

"Now how did you get this cut on you," my mother demanded.

I nodded my head to myself and took in a breath to tell the tale of how I got back to the clouds from the earth, but I was stopped quickly.

"This will not do," she interrupted me. "Let's find you some dry clothes and," she looked pointedly at my two rather tight-fitting shirts, "perhaps we can find something more comfortable for you as well."

"Yes, please," I sighed gratefully.

I let my mother lead me out of the room to the stairs, but I turned back to James. Sorry, I mouthed. His curiosity was brimming to the point I wondered how he wasn't holding me down until I answered. It never stopped intriguing me, how some people felt things so strongly that even another's grief could look bland.

He shrugged and made shooing motions. He would get his questions answered soon enough.

Ma brought me up the stairs and into the room she and my father slept in. The washroom and the other bedroom my siblings and used to sleep in were the only other rooms on the small second floor.

She closed the curtain that separated the room from the hallway and bustled over to a small chest that sat in front of the bed. There was sparse furniture in the room. She selected one of my father's shirts and a skirt that probably had belonged to my sister and brought them to me.

I quickly untied my belt and let her help me get the shirts off. The first was easy but the second took a slight bit more effort.

I stretched my back and shoulders as much as I could before slipping my father's shirt on. It was far bigger than either of my shirts. It buttoned in the front no different than how shirts were worn on earth, but instead of extending just a hand or so past the belt, this shirt was meant to extend almost to the knees. On me, the shirt went almost to my shins.

My mother then reached for pieces of linen cloth wrapped around wrists. I snatched my hands back instantly in panic.

She looked slightly hurt by my motion, but I knew she could also see the wild fear that had encompassed me for that brief second. Where I expected her to be curious, she was only concerned and sad. She didn't ask, and she made no comment.

Finally, when I was dressed, she moved to gather my clothes. She smiled at me with a lighter mood. She then had me lay out my wet and muddy clothes on the floor to dry.

"Well," she said, satisfactorily, "you won't be needing these anymore."

She promised we could work on deciding what to do with the extra fabric when I had finished telling my story. I thanked her, but I wondered silently to myself how soon would I be returning to earth. The king's words still bothered me. He had not doubted that I would help him with his request. But what had made him so sure?

My mother offered me a belt, and I declined. I was content to not cinch my shirt and look the fool, so long as no one besides my family saw.

My mother and I walked back to the eating room, and I realized that besides Mother, James was the only other person in the home. It felt so empty without the usual swirl of activity and emotions. Finally, the three of us were seated. I knew they were happy to see me; I knew they were curious. I was happy too, and yet it felt like there was barrier between us that spanned a chasm of five years.

"So," I started, unsure, "where do you suppose I should begin?"

Mother opened her mouth to speak, but James spoke first, cutting off whatever she had to say.

"Well," he said, "we've heard hardly anything since that night you left, and even then, it was just a letter saying you were accused of—" He paused and look at our mother.

"Treason?" he asked.

She nodded, saying dryly, "Though they certainly attempted to put it far nicer than that."

My anger sparked.

"I was promised by the king that everything would be explained to Father in full," I said.

I glowered at the table. "In person," I added. Looking back on it, I couldn't determine why I had thought the king hadn't been lying.

"Really," James told me, "it was just a frilly piece of paper and a nice wax seal to prove it wasn't a joke."

Mother nodded at James assessment. Most everyone revered the king, but between my family members, we did not follow suit. "Then that would be a good place to start then, Anna," she decided for me. "Why don't you just start with that?"

Even then, I was unsure of where to begin.

"Uh," I said. I nervously reached up to scratch as the small cut on my face Mother had fussed over earlier. Rushing my next words to get them out as fast as possible, I said, "Well, you knew I had been leaving the house at night for the month leading up to it, right?"

My mother could not have hid her dismay if she had tried. "Your youngest brother may have mentioned after the fact."

I winced. For nearly four weeks, I had left home in the silence of the night. For the first few days I went, I only walked to the outside palace. I stayed too long on those nights before I had come back. Then, as my confidence grew, I had made my way through the walls of the palace in the pathways only known by the King and few else. I had discovered them by accident years earlier. Finally, on that dreadful night, I decided to go into the King's sleeping chamber.

But I did not leave the house as inconspicuously as I had thought. Of course, Vincent had dutifully kept my little secrets until it was too late to fix anything by sharing them. In all honesty, he had done what I had asked of him, but I had been quietly hoping that he would tell someone. Maybe someone could've stopped me from my obsession with the king and his palace before anything had happened. But it was a childish thought.

I tried not to think it, or Vincent, for that matter.

I sighed. "I was stealing what turned out to be some very important documentation from the king's bedroom..."

I wanted to melt into the floor where no one could feel that I was feeling. "And then I burned it."

And I had sat there like a child, burning each one by one, hoping with malice that the indecipherable scrawl meant something.

Mother and James could see my embarrassment, and my embarrassment compounded because of it. Maybe it wasn't so bad if my mother knew this things, but to let James know my failures seemed unbearable, though looking at the man he was now, I could guess that he was past the age of ill-meant teasing.

I got on with my account.

"After a few weeks I got caught, and though I was in the King's personal rooms, it wasn't by the king."

"Ah," said James.

"Ah," I echoed.

"Further, gossip had already been spread throughout the court that important papers of the king's had gone missing."

James slapped my shoulder a few times. "At least it wasn't all the king's doing that you got yourself sent to earth. I bet you had the whole court ready for your dismissal," he said confidently.

But Mother frowned. I wished she hadn't noticed my hesitation.

I continued, "Once the court discovered my age, the king's advisor told the king that pardoning a child wouldn't cause the uproar that the king was probably imagining. The advisor said it in front of the whole people gathered there, too."

The king had frowned at the advisor's statement.

"So, the king asked me, with all the people gathered focused solely on me, if I was bowing to a king I despised," I finished.

"Oh, Anna," Mother said pityingly. Underneath her frown, her anger sang.

But James was laughing at me. "Oh, I'm sure they all loved what you were feeling after that!"

"James, be nice," Mother said, reaching across the table to gently reprimand him.

She turned to me, saying, "Selfish bastard, that king is."

I silently let her know I agreed.

"So then after you got sent to earth," James pressed me. "What then?"

I shrugged. "It was just earth. It wasn't very interesting. I didn't really do much."

James rolled his eyes at me. "Come on Anna, tell us more than that. What was it like? Did you get to go into any forests? What did you think of the weather?"

A little bit of information couldn't hurt anything, I thought.

"I really, really despise when it storms, James," I said. "Everything is muddy, and it gets in the houses sometimes, and the sun is entirely blocked out, and," I paused for the novelty of it all, "sometimes the wind goes so fast it makes whistling sounds."

I beamed at his reaction. His awe reflected my own the first time I had seen it for myself.

Mother moved to stand up from the table. She excused herself to go start making dinner. I gaped at how late it was. It felt like forever since my feet had been on the ground, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

James and I got up from the table as well and made our way to the room upstairs where we all used to sleep. The room was barer than I remembered it, and beds were missing. He shut the door half way, and we settled ourselves on the floor before we restarted our conversation.

While I told him about the red city made of clay and the eccentricities of people on earth, he explained what each of our siblings were doing in the recent years, himself included. It did not go unnoticed when he finished his story without mention Vincent.

I pondered the inevitability of discussing him. It would be brought up sooner or later, and when it happened, the jocular mood would be dashed. Like Mother and like James, I too put it off.

"You know Anna, you don't have to hide whatever happened on earth," James had been saying, frowning. "Everyone knows when you're hiding something." His curiosity bore into my head so strongly that I wanted to do anything to ease it.

"Really, it is unimportant," I said sharply. I was glaring at him. He heard my words and felt what I was feeling. My eyes dared him to press the subject.

His curiosity raged.

He smirked at me and mockingly patted my head. "You haven't changed a bit, child."

I tried to hold my glare, but my anger melted in my relieved laughter. He chuckled too.

James leaned in closer to me, excited, and said in a low voice. "I have just one more thing to tell you."

I leaned in as well, curious.

He brought his hand up in front of him, clenched in a fist. As he unfurled his hand, small drops of water appeared. More water formed into a small pool and it poured out of his hand.

My mouth formed into a small 'o'. "James you can make rain," I exclaimed.

"Yes, yes," he said, "it started almost four years ago."

He smiled, "and watch this." He moved his other hand in a fluid motion, and the pool of water formed into a neatly formed ball. He relaxed his hand and the water splashed to the floor.

I clapped for his small performance. "Do you think I could do that?" I asked.

He frowned. It was obvious that he hadn't thought of my question yet. Most people got their abilities to the control the weather a few years before they were a fully grown adult. By those means, I should easily be of age to use whatever abilities I might have, but... James voiced my concern.

"I would have thought so, but after being on earth," he trailed off. "There's really no way to know unless you were to try."

The fact that descending from the clouds could suspend one's ability to make weather made dealing with criminals and threats to the kingdom very simple for those in power, but there were stories that circulated of the children of earth-bound weather-makers never learning to use weather upon their eventual return. I hadn't been born on earth, but I also had never used any abilities before I had been taken away. I wondered how long it would take for any abilities to form, if at all. I had always dreamed of learning to create weather. After a certain age, it was supposed to come naturally.

"Do you want to try it?" James asked me. He wasn't optimistic.

Afraid of embarrassing myself in front of him, I declined.

There was a knock at the half-closed door, and it opened the rest of the way. James and I rocked back away from each other. I cursed myself. I had not noticed the sound of footsteps on the stairs or before the door. Engrossed in what James had to say, I was hardly paying attention to my surroundings. It was a mistake to let my guard down simply because I was in the clouds, or because I was home.

The door pushed open further to reveal my father. His emotions spilled over me as I focused on him. He was a tall man, and his face was made of hard lines and with his brows furrowed together. He was strong and stern looking, but anyone who knew him also knew better. He could be stern at times, and he was often serious, but along-side those traits, there was also immense love for people and a desire to protect them. When he spoke to Mother, his voice was soft and gentle.

I liked how he felt things. It was intense, but it wasn't anxious. It felt so different from most people. When he was happy, or sad, or angry, it was all somehow still pleasant. It was like he was not afraid to feel the things he felt.

He smiled at us, sitting as we were. Extending a hand to each of us, he helped us both into standing positions.

I smiled at him, but James was flashing us a proud smile.

"Look who I found today, father," James said.

Father clapped him on his shoulder. "Aye, good man. I appreciate it." He turned towards me. "James, I think your mother needs help chopping some greens for dinner. She's almost finished."

James nodded, taking his leave. He winked at me as he went out of the room to the stairs. I overemphasized an eye roll back at him.

Father put his hand on my shoulder. He was happy to see me, and I was happy to see him, but he was stressed about something. While James had seemed to have changed only a little, and mother much the same, Father seemed different. Everything about him seemed so much more tired. His hair had bits of gray and his shoulders seemed to slump under the weight of the air around him.

"Your mother told me you how you have returned, and also the circumstances of your disappearance. Daughter," he said, "we have much to discuss about you and Vincent."

The alarm bells went off in my head. How much did he know

"I can't stay here. I don't know how to tell Mother," I whispered frantically as the door thumped closed. "I know where Vincent is."

Sadness and loss mucked the air in the room into a thick mud.

"The king watched Vinny be captured and didn't lift a finger to stop them. The king won't send anyone because Vinny's supposed to be dead. I'm the only one that knows," I finished in a cry.

"Then we may have more to discuss than I thought," was all he said.