Four days passed with no one entering Simon’s office. Dorian kept away. Mari did not speak with him, only leaving small hastily written requests on his desk for him to handle when he arrived. It was nothing more than simple filing on the main floor. Though it was not said, Simon knew that this was her way of insisting that he not return to the basement. No one spoke to him of the scepter that had returned to its place in its glass case.

Each time he left the room, he locked the door. A piece of him was tempted to lock it while he was inside.

If nothing else, he had always been physically stronger than Dorian, even when the man’s magical power was vast. But Simon had never been worth the effort of using that. Not yet, at least.

The knock at the door made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He gripped the edge of the desk, staring down at his hands. If he pretended that he was not there at all, perhaps this visitor would leave. There was nothing important that anyone could require of him. He had returned the scepter. He did not have work to complete for Mari. Dorian— Dorian did not need him. But it was late in the evening. No one else would come so late.

”Simon? Can I come in?”

It was not often that Isador’s presence came as a relief, but it was better than so many alternatives. However, if he was there about all the trouble Simon had caused, to rip away his position, perhaps he was not so helpful a visitor as Simon might hope.

He swallowed. “Enter.”

Delaying the inevitable was no good. It would at least be easier with Isador. He would dull the blow.

As the door creaked open, Simon rose. Isador stood before him in a rust jacket that likely cost more than Simon made in three months. His eyes were like watercolor, bright and soft. But he did not smile. This was not a miracle. This was not a visit for pleasure. Simon bowed. “If this is about the scepter—“

”Scepter?” His thick auburn brows furrowed. He looked not unlike a dog being prompted for a command in a foreign tongue.

Simon blinked. Isador did not know. Perhaps he was not wise to believe Isador would know anything. “Your Highness, what are you here about?”

The confusion faded from his face, replaced with something more somber. “You’re friends with Miss Knight, right?”

What had she done? “That may be a strong word. But, yes, I know her.”

Isador clasped his hands in front of him, frowning. “She hasn’t been seen in several days. I know you like her, so I tried to get a search party, but… it’s just me. I wondered if you wanted to come.” His eyes fell to the floor and Simon couldn’t quite decipher the look on his face.

Had she come back from those woods?

Simon swallowed. If he waited here, either Mari would come to tell him off or Dorian would. Dorian… Had he truly not told anyone of the situation? Or had Isador simply missed that conversation? No. If Dorian had told any of his siblings, or Heavens forbid, his parents, Simon would know about it. This was being kept a secret. A debt Simon would owe him.

”Very well. Allow me to lock my office and we can leave.”

Mari did not need to know. Facing her now was not something that Simon could stomach. He took his key in hand, using Isador out of his way and out of the room. The brass doorknob was cool beneath his fingers and the click of the lock into its place was a satisfying relief.

Isador did not try to take him by the arm and guide him through the familiar halls. He kept his hands at his sides, looking oddly sheepish.

”You tried to gather a search party?” Simon asked, raising his head to glance toward the man.

Isador nodded. “I am sorry that I couldn’t find anyone else. People in town are busy, and the royal guards don’t usually listen to me much.”

Had he really tried to involve so many people? It didn’t surprise Simon that no one would drop everything to serve the fourth son, but it did surprise him that the man would make such an effort. “I appreciate that you tried so hard.” No one else would. If they even noticed Aria’s absence, it was unlikely that anyone would have the time or resources to devote to finding an odd woman.

The sun outside the palace was dulled by clouds, casting a cool haze over the sky. Where a sunset would have cast warm rays, there was instead only grayed yellow air. But as Isador guided him down the stone street, it was comfortable. “I last saw her in the forest at the edge of town,” Simon said.

Isador nodded. “Let’s start there, then.” He was quiet for a moment, and then, “Do you get to see her often?”

It was an odd question. If Simon didn’t know better, he might think Isador sounded almost jealous. He just shook his head. “I do not see many people outside of work. Only my father’s friends.” He did not want to elaborate further. The less anyone from the palace thought about Chalice and Gris, the better. It wasn’t as if they were in hiding, but… it would be better if they were not at the forefront of anyone’s mind.

”Oh.” Why did Isador sound upset by that? If he was jealous, it should be some balm on the wound that Simon was with others. Though Simon supposed it might not be productive to speculate how the man’s mind worked. “Does it not get lonely?”

It took great strength of will not to laugh. “I am satisfied being on my own.” It was not as though Simon had had many friends before his father passed. It had been much the same after— only with silence in the house instead of his father’s calm chatter. “Though I suppose I might like a dog someday.” Just something to add to the quiet background of the day. 

Isador reached forward, his hand brushing against Simon’s.

Simon did not mean to slap it away. The sound of skin against skin startled him into pausing in his tracks. “Isador— I’m so sorry.”

The man’s skin was red. “Oh. No, no, I shouldn’t have— Sorry. I just… I wanted to tell you that  if you do get lonely, I’m here. We’re friends. I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

Simon swallowed hard. That had been unacceptable. He had slapped the prince. When had he become so easily startled? He knew the answer to that. He was always like this after Dorian… No one was usually around after. “I don’t know what came over me.”

”Do not think of it,” Isador said, shaking his head. “Sometimes I get too excited.” He sighed, clasping his hands before him. “Oh— I know! I’ve been working on my magic, like you told me. I can show you.” Isador extended his hand before him, palms facing skyward. Visibly, little happened. Isador frowned, reaching slowly back toward Simon. “You don’t have to touch. Just feel the air around, okay?”

Simon did not tell the man that there was no need to worry about him lashing out like that again. It would not happen again. It could not. But telling him this would only allow him a moment to ask why Simon was so easy to startle to begin with. No. It would be best to ignore it entirely. “That is very impressive, Your Highness.” It was not. Simon had seen Dorian create cracks in stone walls with his own force. Her Majesty had clouded minds almost beyond repair.

”It isn’t what my family can do,” Isador said, knowing. Even he could not be blind to the knowledge that his magical prowess would forever pale to those around him. “I do not think I’ll ever be like they are.”

Simon shook his head. “All you need is practice.” He continued forward, advancing toward the edge of the forest. “Show me something else.” He stopped at the edge of the treeline. On an overcast day like this, it would be dark in the place where Aria usually went. “Have you been working on summoning light?”

”I have. I can show you.” Whatever somber tone had possessed the man moments before had dissipated entirely. He stepped forward, toward the shade of the trees. His navy capelet danced around him as he turned to face Simon. His thin lips wore a bright grin. “Look!” He raised a hand as if about to ask a question and it ignited with a flash of white. For a moment it was too vivid, almost painful to gaze upon. Then it settled, dulling to something similar to a lamp, but pure, clear white.

Simon had seen light like that before.

Deep in this forest, laughing and running barefoot, grasping at Aria’s hand to pull her forward. Suddenly stopped in their tracks by the complete ceasing of the world and burst off light through the forest floor.

It had made Simon’s blood feel hot.

He blinked. “That’s very good.”

Isador shook his head again, but this time he wore a soft smile. He did not move until Simon followed him, stepping under the cool shade of the trees. “I know I won’t catch up to my siblings. That’s alright, though, I think.” He hummed, making his way down the dirt path. His eyes scanned the trees. “Your family has such a history handling magical artifacts and studying things, but you don’t use it.”

Simon’s brows narrowed. “That isn’t the same. We aren’t royalty. Our bloodline has no access to that type of power.”

Isador nodded. “You could, if you married royalty.”

He didn’t say it as if trying to imply anything. It was just a fact, stated without any other intention. But it made his skin crawl nonetheless. Simon could make a joke to ease his own discomfort. He could say that he would never have the constitution to attend Isador’s family dinners on a regular basis. Simon, however, kept quiet. Even a quick quip would extend this conversation beyond Isador’s comment. He could not put himself in the position to confess that the way the royal family watched him with such hungry eyes made him want to remove his own skin.

”This is the area where I last saw Aria,” Simon said, glancing at the clearing just ahead. There was no strange light here except that which Isador had held. “If she were in the forest, she would be here.”

”Are you certain?” Isador asked.

Simon nodded. “We played here as children. It is where she always is, if not at home or in the archives.” He clasped his hands before him. Where could she have gone? It was unlike her to take off. In all these years, Simon could not recall her going anywhere outside the village. And what of her father? Was there anyone who would take care of him while she was away? “We will need to see if her father has a carer.”

”Oh— I tried to speak with him. He told me to leave and did not know where his daughter was.” Isador’s face scrunched. “He is a very strange man.”

He had not always been. Mikhail Knight had been extraordinary once. According to many who had been in the archives at the time, he had been the perfect contender for the role of Lead Archivist. Organized, innovative, proficient in magical and linguistic studies, and a dedicated historian. There had been whispers around whether or not he should have been offered the role instead of Simon’s father and if he might take the role from him in the near future.

Those whispers had ceased suddenly when he began to lose himself in the oldest of tomes in the archive, not leaving the basement for days at a time.

There were days when Simon wondered. If Aria had not been so insistent that they tell him about the light and what Simon had felt, would he have become so lost? Would his mind have clouded so strongly?

“I apologize. I should not have said that.” Isador hung his head like a dog who had been caught with a chicken bone in its maw.

Simon just sighed. “It is of no importance to me. If he was well enough to tell you to leave, I will assume he is well enough to last the night. I will find someone to see to it that he is fed and comfortable in the morning.” Chalice would not like the idea of checking in on him nor of taking Simon’s money for the task, but she would do both if he insisted.

“Of course. If the palace can help at all—“

Simon shook his head. “I would not like to use your resources for that which I can manage.” He paused.”Thank you, though.” Even if it was kind, the less he did that indebted him to the family, the better.

Isador nodded, moving closer, holding his hand before him to light the way.

The sound of leaves crunching beneath boots was all the noise that passed between them. It was strange to be in this place with anyone but Aria. He had not even come here alone since he and Aria had played there. To bring someone else felt almost like sacrilege, though he supposed that wasn’t quite right. After all, nothing about what had passed before was sacred.

They would find her.

Likely, Aria had simply left town to attend to some business or other. Perhaps she had heard of some tome in another town that would aid her research. That was probable enough to see any worry Simon might have held.

As they found the road, Simon let out a soft sigh.

”I will walk you home,” Isador said.

”That isn’t necessary.” Simon did not want to argue, but if he went alone, he could stop to see Chalice and Gris. Bringing Isador to their door wasn’t an option.

Isador frowned, his mouth as in odd shadows as the light in his palm flickered into nothing, leaving them shrouded in dark and moonlight. “Please. I don’t want to worry about you disappearing, too.”

Why did he sound so sad? Simon shook his head. “There is no need to concern yourself with that. Aria likely left of her own accord. Nothing will happen if I simply walk myself home.”

The look in Isador’s eyes was blatant even in the cool dark glow of night.

”Fine. You may walk with me.”

Isador offered his arm, but did not seem upset when Simon moved forward without taking it. The walk was quiet and, all things considered, comfortable. With Isador, there was never the stress there was with Dorian. Or with Aria. Isador would never do anything to upset him.

Isador adored him.

Even if he did not speak that aloud, it was blatant.

Perhaps Simon shouldn’t have lied. Telling the man that he would never disappear was cruel. If he was lucky, Isador would not remember that conversation by the time it was relevant again. Or maybe he would and he would consider Simon unkind enough that he would not miss him.

The crickets and warm summer air were what Simon would miss, he was certain. He would not miss Isador. He could not.

Simon approached his door and Isador stood behind him on the porch.

He could not expect to be let in.

”Simon? Would it be better if I wasn’t—“

The man did not finish his sentence.

The sky was illuminated with a striking white glow, casting itself violently and immediately against them. Simon squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes as he scanned the horizon from which it came.

”What is that?” Isador asked, wide eyed.

A column of white pierced the air, distant, but unbelievably bright, as if the sun itself had burst from within the planet and shone upward through some crack in the surface.

The breath in Simon’s lungs was frigid. A rush pushed through his body like electricity inside his skin, a pulse that coursed through him so quickly he stumbled forward. Warm hands caught him before he had the chance to steady himself.

”We have found Aria.”