For a long moment, Tait simply stared at her, at the sister he had searched for, mourned, and finally given up on. His gaze was a physical weight. Years of grief and hope, colliding all at once. 

"Tait," she whispered.

His breath hitched. Then he stepped forward, voice cracking. "It's really you."

Before she could respond, he turned sharply to the man with the grass-green eyes, still standing protectively in front of the shaken girl. "My apologies, Prince Leif. I have to go. Please get Emmy home safely."

Prince Leif blinked, stunned by the sudden shift, but nodded. Emmy clung to his arm, still trembling. Tait didn't wait for more. He grabbed Delphi's hand, warm, solid, almost but not quite familiar, and pulled her out of the alley and into the bright chaos of the festival square.

Drums pounded through her chest. The smell of fried dough and spiced wine clung thick in the air. Lanterns swung overhead, throwing wild shadows across faces painted gold and crimson. A fiddle sang somewhere. Laughter burst around her in jagged waves.

But it all reached her like sound through water, muffled and distant. Colours bled at the edges of her vision. Smoke from meat stalls coiled past, tasteless. Only the pressure of Tait's hand felt real. Warm. 

Tait didn't let go of her. Not once. As if afraid she would vanish again if he loosened his grip. "You're coming home," he said, voice firm with authority. "Mother, Father, and Jonas, they need to know you're alive."

Delphi stopped walking. The music and shouting pressed against her skull. "I can't. Not yet."

Tait turned, disbelief flashing across his face. "Delphi?"

"I have to go back to the inn first."

"The inn?" His brows knitted. "Why? What could possibly be more important than going home? How long have you been here? Why haven't you come home?"

She chose to ignore the barrage of questions. "I have to go back for Hope."

Tait blinked. "Who is Hope?"

"You won't believe me until you see her."

Something in her tone, quiet, steady, and unyielding, made him swallow his next argument. He exhaled sharply, then nodded once. "Fine. Lead the way."

The walk stretched into twenty long, tense minutes. The festival lights faded behind them, swallowed by narrow streets and sagging rooftops. The cobblestones turned slick underfoot, greasy with something she didn't want to name. Cold crept in, not the crisp bite of autumn, but the damp kind that seeped through wool and clung to skin.

The buildings here tilted like drunks holding each other up. Somewhere above, a shutter banged against its frame in a rhythm no one had bothered to fix. The smell of mildew and something more human replaced the festival's sweetness. Tait's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

But the further they walked, the more Delphi felt the gap between them.

Tait looked like a Selene. Tailored coat, dark wool, cut to perfection. Sapphire cufflinks winking at his wrists. A silver brooch at his chest, the crescent moon of their house, polished bright enough to catch every flicker of lamplight. Even his boots were immaculate.

Delphi looked like something the city had chewed up and spat out.

Her cloak was more patch, than original fabric now. Her boots had split at the sole twice; she'd fixed them with strips of leather scavenged from a dead man's belt. Her tunic was stained, torn at the collar, and mended with mismatched thread. The trousers she wore had belonged to someone else once.

I shouldn't be walking beside him. The thought crept in, unbidden but familiar. She didn't fit. Her clothes told the story of every year since she'd left, every cold night, every fight, every desperate choice. Worn. Torn. Stitched back together so many times that the seams barely held.

We don't match anymore, Delphi thought.

But Tait's grip on her hand didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened.

Finally, Delphi stopped in front of a battered three-storey structure leaning slightly to one side. Paint peeled from its shutters in long curls. A single lantern flickered weakly by the door, throwing more shadow than light.

"This is it," she said softly.

Tait stared at the building as if it personally offended him. "You've been living here? Here and not at the manor?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped toward the door.

"I'll be back in a moment."

Panic flashed across Tait's face.

"You've said that before," he whispered. "And then you disappeared."

Delphi paused, her hand on the rough, splintered wood of the door. "Not by choice."

The words hit him like a blow. Before he could speak, she slipped inside, swallowed by darkness. Tait dragged a hand down his face. His breath trembled in the cold air, curling white before him. Too many emotions clawed at him: relief, fear, anger, hope. He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to steady himself. The distant thump of festival drums still pulsed faintly through the streets, a heartbeat he no longer felt a part of.

The door creaked open, and Delphi stepped out. "This is Hope."

Padding beside her was a creature that made Tait's breath catch. A fox, knee-high, her fur deep black, almost liquid in the dim glow. It swallowed light. Only her ears and chest broke the darkness: bone-white, sharp as chalk marks. She looked up at him with golden eyes. The exact shade of House Selene. Tait stumbled back a step, boot scraping against wet stone.

Then the fox's five tails fanned out behind her. Black at the base, fading to grey, ending in shimmering silver-white tips. They whispered against the ground like silk dragged over stone.

"A… kitsune?" he breathed.

"Yes," Delphi said. "I found her on my way back here."

There was a note in her voice, painful and fragile. Tait's head snapped up.

"Back from where?" he asked, though dread was already coiled in his stomach like something cold and alive.

Delphi met his gaze. In the ten years she'd been gone, she had grown into a striking young woman: strong, graceful, composed. But her eyes…

Her eyes were cold. Empty in a way that made the air between them feel thinner.

"Hell," she whispered.

The word hung between them like a blade. The lantern by the door guttered and spat. Hope's tails curled inward, pressing close to her body.

And Tait realized, with a sick twist of fear, that bringing her home might be far more complicated than he had imagined.