Chapter Four

As Idris followed Tam along the winding woodland path, the vibrant green and gold of the trees casting dappled shadows on the ground, a creeping unease began to take root in his chest. He had acted on impulse, hadn’t he? It wasn’t unusual for him to rush into things—his parents had always said that about him. He was the kind of person who followed his heart without a second thought, always jumping in before considering the consequences. And that was fine when he was a paramedic, always reacting quickly in the heat of the moment, doing whatever it took to save a life. But this? This was different.

Idris glanced at Tam, walking ahead with his head held high, completely at ease in this strange, magical realm, and felt a swell of protectiveness. Leaving for the Wild Hunt would devastate him. It would tear him from everything he knew, from his life, his family, and the mundane world he had built. It would break him in ways Idris couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He couldn’t stop it, not completely, but if he could give Tam one last week of peace, of happiness—maybe that would make it a little easier.

Even if that week came with a laundry list of rules and restrictions. Tam had been explaining them in a steady stream, his voice calm and authoritative, as if all of this were completely normal. Idris had learned quickly that nothing in Faerie was normal, at least not in the way he understood it.

“No wandering through Faerie’s lands alone,” Tam had said, his tone firm but not unkind. “No drinking from the waters here, no revealing your full name to anyone, and no making promises beyond those you’ve already made.”

“And whatever you do,” Tam added, with an air of finality, “if you see a troupe of pixies dancing amongst a ring of toadstools, you must not, under any circumstances, join them.”

Idris blinked, his mind reeling. “No dancing pixies. Got it,” he said, his voice flat as he struggled to keep up with the sheer absurdity of it all. “Can we go back to the not-drinking thing for a moment?”

Tam nodded, clearly pleased that Idris was keeping track. “It’s important you understand. The flowing waters of Faerie—those are the ones that will bind you to the land for all eternity. But aside from that, it’s best you accept no other refreshments from anyone but me. The Fae prize beauty above all else, and many will try to lure you into servitude.”

Idris stared at him, wide-eyed. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, processing the gravity of Tam’s words. Then, his mind latched onto one detail, and his curiosity won out. “Wait, did you call me beautiful?”

Tam stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face Idris. There was a moment of silence before Tam shook his head, his expression neutral. “No.”

Idris’s heart skipped a beat, and he opened his mouth to protest. But before he could speak, Tam added, almost as an afterthought, “But I implied it.”

Idris blinked. The unexpected warmth in his chest at those words surprised him. He didn’t know why it affected him so much, but the reassurance that he had, in some way, caught Tam’s eye—well, it was enough to make him feel a little lighter.

“Thanks,” Idris said, more to himself than anyone else.

Tam turned back to their path, not missing a beat. “You shall have to suffice with fruit juice tonight, or wine if you prefer,” he continued, casually as if they hadn’t just shared an oddly tender moment. “But I shall send word to my sister to fetch water from your world, if you wish for something more familiar.” Tam paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to the sky. “I don’t think it shall rain tonight, but I’ll prepare a bowl just in case.”

Idris rubbed his eyes in disbelief. This world was giving him a headache. “So, rain is fine, but rivers aren’t?” he asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“The rivers of Faerie are our lifeblood,” Tam explained, his voice taking on a strange, almost reverential tone. “The very essence of this land. They are fed by the blood drained from the bodies of the fallen, poured down from the mountains by the Wild Hunt. Rain is just rain.”

Idris didn’t even try to process that. It sounded like something out of a twisted fairy tale, and as much as he’d grown up on those stories, he was starting to feel like he’d stepped right into one. He glanced around at the bizarre beauty of the Faerie forest, where everything seemed both alien and familiar, and reminded himself again: It’s just a week. That’s all it was. A single week to give Tam some small comfort before everything changed.

Even if he didn’t understand it. Even if he didn’t like it.

He had to admit, walking through the Faerie woods was strangely beautiful. The trees, with their ancient, gnarled branches and vibrant, twisting trunks, were like living sculptures, reaching towards the sky with purpose. The flowers were unlike anything Idris had ever seen, their colors vivid and almost otherworldly. The air was thick with magic, and for the first time since he’d arrived, Idris allowed himself to be absorbed by the surroundings, letting the beauty wash over him.

As they walked, Tam stopped beside a slender tree, its bark silvered and entwined with colorful ribbons that fluttered softly in the breeze. Tam reached out, his fingers grazing the ribbons.

“This tree,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something Idris couldn’t quite place, “is to remember my mother.”

Idris felt a pang of discomfort, not knowing how to respond. This was so far beyond his understanding, so out of the realm of what he could relate to. But he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so he simply nodded, trying to mask his uncertainty with a smile.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, though his words felt inadequate, the weight of what Tam had just shared pressing down on him. Tam offered a small smile of thanks before turning back towards the path, saying no more on the subject.

By the time they reached what Tam called his “house,” the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over everything. Idris was starting to feel the weight of the day press down on him—his legs ached, his stomach growled, and his mind was tired from all the new, impossible things he was learning about Faerie.

To his surprise, Tam’s home was nothing like he’d expected. It wasn’t a grand mansion or a neat cottage, but rather a collection of tents and lean-tos scattered through the trees. The central space reminded Idris of a circus tent—large, round, and topped with a conical canopy that seemed to float high above them, held up by slender trees and intricately carved wooden struts. Smaller rooms branched off from the central space, their walls made of flowing fabric, held up by nature itself.

When Tam led him into the kitchen area, Idris couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was no “wall” on one side; instead, the entire kitchen was open to the elements, with a small vegetable patch outside that framed the space. Two large shelves held pots, pans, and jars of unfamiliar spices, and a gossamer sheet hung between them, providing partial shelter over a sunken fire pit that sat in the middle of the room.

“Your house is... interesting,” Idris said, trying to put his thoughts into words. “It’s cozy, though.” He wasn’t entirely sure it was his taste, but the charm of it was undeniable.

Tam smiled at him, clearly pleased. “I do try to keep it ordered.”

“It’s... lovely,” Idris added, as though summoning the right words was a struggle. His mind still felt foggy from the sheer weirdness of everything. “But you didn’t build a bathroom, did you?”

Tam looked at him, unruffled. “There was no need. There’s a stream just a few minutes away if you wish to wash.”

Idris winced slightly at the implications. “Thanks,” he said, forcing a smile.

Tam’s face grew serious again. “Just... try not to swallow the water while you bathe.”

Idris nodded, unsure of how to process that. “Got it.”

Then, to his surprise, Tam’s face softened. “I will prepare dinner now. Would you like something to eat?”

Idris nodded gratefully. “I’m starving. Been a long day.”

Tam set to work, placing a large pot over the fire and adding oil and herbs that smelled like spices from home. “Are there things you do not eat?” Tam asked, looking up as he added a handful of fragrant herbs. “I admit, I know little of human food aside from the frequency with which you consume iced cream.”

Idris laughed, feeling the tension ease in his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess having your portal in a park gave you that impression.”

“Iced cream is...” Tam trailed off as he pondered the concept.

Idris chuckled. “I’ll eat anything, honestly.”

“Good,” Tam said with a pleased smile. He added more herbs to the pot, and Idris’s stomach rumbled in anticipation of whatever strange, magical concoction was about to be prepared.

As Tam moved around the kitchen, Idris rummaged through his bag, remembering the crisps he’d packed earlier. “Actually, I have a starter, if you’d like,” he said, pulling out the packet and offering it to Tam.

Tam eyed the packet with curiosity as he returned from the garden. “I have often wondered what lay in those colorful wrappings,” he remarked, taking a single crisp from the packet.

Idris grinned. “It’s just... you know, junk food. You don’t have to wonder about it.”

Tam, however, seemed fascinated by the unfamiliar item in his hand, inspecting it closely before popping it into his mouth. Idris watched with amusement as the fae prince considered the taste of something so simple.

“Well?” Idris asked, eager for his verdict.

“That is marvellous,” Tam announced, his voice confident as he boldly grabbed a handful. “I like these.”

“They’re good, right?” Idris chuckled, watching Tam savor the crispy treat. Tam nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full of the delicious snack.

The crisps disappeared quickly as Tam continued his cooking, and Idris did his best to explain what exactly a crisp was, even as Tam listened intently, his focus undivided. The kitchen grew busier as vegetables soon joined the fragrant herbs simmering away in the pot, filling the air with their earthy scents. Then came strips of dried meat, drenched in a generous pour of wine, their edges already curling in the heat. When Tam offered Idris a glass of the wine, he politely declined but accepted some fruit juice, which was sweet and tart, reminiscent of grapefruit—though its color was far less vibrant.

Once the stew began to bubble away, the smell almost intoxicating in its richness, Tam handed Idris a piece of parchment and a quill. He gestured for him to write the letter to Addison. Idris wasted no time, scribbling a quick note. He told Addison that yes, this situation was all rather odd, but no, unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight. He reassured Addison not to worry, promising that everything was probably fine—more or less. After folding the paper, Idris addressed it clearly to Addison. There were no owls to deliver the letter, but instead, Tam handed it off to a passing squirrel. Idris raised an eyebrow but chose not to question it.

By the time the sun had fully set, the stew was ready to serve. The only light came from the flickering fire and the distant twinkling stars that pierced the canopy above. Idris swore he heard the mournful howl of a wolf far off in the distance. He wasn’t afraid of thugs, drunks, or the crackling of fires, but wolves? He could hardly claim the same comfort.

“Do not worry,” Tam reassured him, handing over a wooden bowl filled with the steaming stew. “They know better than to disturb us.”

“Mmm,” Idris murmured, his eyes still trained on the open kitchen wall. Now that the darkness had fully settled, the forest surrounding Tam’s home had taken on a new, more sinister feel. It no longer seemed like the whimsical woods of a fairytale but more like something pulled straight from the pages of a Brothers Grimm story—dark, twisted, and mysterious. Idris didn’t scare easily, but the sight of the inky blackness outside sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

“We could eat inside, if you would prefer?” Tam suggested, offering him an out. “Or I could lend you a sword if that would make you feel more secure?”

“I’m fine,” Idris said quickly, forcing a smile. Moving inside wouldn’t change much, especially with the walls made of curtains and leaves. At least the kitchen had the fire—and several sharp knives—that could be used to ward off any unwelcome visitors.

“I will protect you with my life while you are here, Idris,” Tam said solemnly. His voice was calm but firm, and Idris felt another wave of that strange, unsettling shiver. Tam meant it, and the weight of his words hung in the air like a promise—one that made Idris wonder which was more frightening: the idea of a wolf closing in or the thought of a complete stranger willing to lay down his life for him.

Idris distracted himself by taking a hearty bite of the stew, and then another, because the food—despite the awkwardness of the situation—was absolutely delicious. He didn’t stop eating until his bowl was empty, all the while watching Tam with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

They didn’t talk much as they ate, and Idris couldn’t help but think that Tam was as emotionally worn out as he was—probably more so, given the week that lay ahead for him. Idris considered asking what had led the Queen to send Tam away, but he knew now wasn’t the time.

As the meal settled, Idris began to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in. His stomach, full and content, combined with the emotional upheaval of the day, made it impossible to keep his eyes open for long. He stifled a yawn, hoping Tam wouldn’t take offense. What was the proper etiquette for going to bed when you were staying with your accidental husband for the first time?

“You are tired,” Tam observed, noticing the yawn almost immediately. “It is understandable. Where would you like to sleep?”

“Anywhere,” Idris answered honestly. He’d seen several cozy-looking piles of pillows and blankets around the house.

“I know we are married,” Tam said, almost thoughtfully, “but there is no reason for us to sleep together if you do not wish. I will not be offended if you choose another room.”

That caught Idris off guard. He had assumed he’d sleep in a separate room from Tam, but the fact that Tam had considered the possibility of sleeping together gave him pause. Tam turned to look at him, his eyes warm and earnest. And in that moment, Idris realized how very different faeries were.

It was like the feeling one gets when standing before a work of art that somehow conveys grief or joy—an overwhelming sense of something beneath the surface, something intangible. Looking at Tam, Idris had the distinct impression that something wild, untamed, and dangerous lurked just below his calm exterior. Idris wondered if Tam had always been this way or if it was a trait that had developed over time. Another wolf howled in the distance—closer this time, Idris thought—and his toes curled inside his boots. Tam had been nothing but kind to him, and yet the prospect of facing the forest's dangers alone, unprotected, seemed more unsettling with every passing second.

“Idris?” Tam prompted softly, pulling him from his thoughts. Idris realized he had been staring, and he gave Tam a sheepish smile.

“Honestly,” Idris began, clearing his throat, “I think I’d feel safer if I slept in the same room as you. At least for tonight. I mean—there’s no proper walls or locks here, and that wolf is definitely getting closer.”

Tam chuckled, a sound full of warmth. “The wolves will not hurt us. But if it will help you sleep better, then yes, of course, you may lie with me.”

Idris wasn’t sure how to respond to the way Tam phrased it. Something about the offer sounded more intimate than it should have. He forced himself to ignore the fleeting images that suddenly filled his mind. They were married, sure, but neither of them had done anything to suggest that sleeping together had to mean anything more.

Tam led the way to his bedroom, and Idris resolutely stared over Tam’s shoulder, determined not to let his mind wander down a path he wasn’t ready to follow. The bedroom, much like the kitchen, had a large shelf that spanned one wall. Unlike the kitchen, however, it was cluttered with an assortment of strange human items—a broken phone, crumpled bus tickets, a novelty lighter, and various other discarded odds and ends. Idris made a mental note to ask Tam about them later. He wasn’t sure if he’d be awake long enough to get an answer if he asked now.

Without ceremony, Idris stripped off his jacket and shoes, then hesitated, hands hovering over his belt. Should he undress completely? Partially? He normally slept naked, but this situation seemed…different. Tam, however, wasted no time. He undressed casually, completely uninhibited, before slipping on a long white shirt that barely covered his thighs. Idris, trying not to stare, found his eyes lingering just a little too long, and the heat rose in his cheeks.

“Do you wish to borrow a similar garment?” Tam asked with a kind smile, misinterpreting Idris’s lingering glance.

“Uh, no, but thanks,” Idris stammered, forcing his eyes up to meet Tam’s.

“You humans give thanks so easily,” Tam remarked playfully, his eyes twinkling as he pulled back the furs on his bed and slipped beneath them.

Idris hesitated for a moment longer, then removed his jeans and shirt, climbing into the bed wearing only his boxers. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for the fresh underwear his mum had packed him.

The furs were impossibly soft, and as soon as Idris turned away and put as much distance as he could between himself and Tam, sleep began to overtake him. The warmth of the furs and the comfort of the bed quickly lulled him into a deep, peaceful sleep.

◆◆◆

For a few blissful moments when Idris awoke the next morning, he was almost convinced the whole ‘accidental marriage to a faerie’ ordeal had been a dream. The warmth of the bed, the soft and heavy weight of the covers, and the feeling of comfort and safety all around him made the reality of the previous day seem like a distant fantasy. The gentle light of dawn spilled through the thin walls of the room, casting long shadows over the decorated wood and flowing curtains that had quickly come to feel familiar. The sounds of the forest were muffled, and for a few precious moments, Idris could almost pretend that none of the madness had happened—that he hadn’t been whisked away to this strange, enchanted place and married to someone he barely knew.

But then, as he stretched, reaching out with his limbs to fully embrace the calm of the morning, his foot accidentally nudged something solid. It was a leg—Tam’s leg, to be exact.

"Sorry," Idris mumbled instinctively, half-asleep, and immediately regretted opening his eyes.

The room had not changed since he had gone to sleep, and the sunlight streaming through the fabric walls illuminated it in a way that made the space feel both alien and intimate at the same time. There was the shelf with human junk, and the air was thick with the scents of the forest, blending with the lingering aromas of the stew from the night before. The world outside the thin walls seemed peaceful now, the wildness of the night faded in the morning light. A bird was chirping somewhere outside the house, and it was the kind of sound that made Idris think it might actually fly into the room and help him get dressed.

“Did you sleep well?” Tam asked from beside him, turning over to face Idris with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, looking completely at ease.

“I did, thanks,” Idris said, surprised at how true the statement was. He’d expected to be restless after the events of the day before—the strange rituals, the unnerving feeling of being an outsider in a strange land—but instead, he’d fallen into a deep, undisturbed sleep. There was something about the bed, and perhaps the faerie magic in the air, that had allowed him to rest like he hadn’t in months.

“There were no ravenous wolves after all,” Tam said with a mischievous grin, and Idris couldn’t help but laugh. In the light of day, his fear from the night before seemed almost silly. The wolves were still out there, of course, but there was something about Tam’s presence that made them seem less threatening now.

“You never know with wolves,” Idris muttered darkly, and Tam laughed again, swinging himself out of bed with ease. The faerie’s grace was evident even in such simple movements.

Breakfast was a simple affair, consisting of flat rounds of bread that Idris helped to cook over the fire, their surface golden and crisp. He spread thick, rich cream over them and topped them with jam made from a fruit he couldn’t identify. The taste was sweet and tart, an explosion of flavor that lingered long after each bite. He washed it down with a glass of the same juice he had had the night before—a tangy, almost grapefruit-like drink that had quickly become one of his favorites.

Still, despite the pleasant flavors, Idris couldn’t help but feel the absence of something familiar.

“Do you have coffee here?” he asked, his voice tinged with a slight desperation that he tried to hide.

Tam’s face lit up. “Oh! Like Starbucks?”

Idris blinked. “Yes, but... how do you know about Starbucks coffee?” His surprise was evident. He hadn’t expected any faerie to know anything about modern human culture.

“On one of my visits to your lands, I found a discarded paper cup, adorned with inscriptions of its intended contents,” Tam explained eagerly. “I have since longed to try it. What is it like?”

Idris scratched his head, trying to find the right words. “It’s bitter... and kind of earthy? It’s a stimulant, helps wake you up and makes your body work faster. You can add milk, sugar, or flavored syrups, but a good cup is best drunk black.”

Tam listened intently, his eyes never leaving Idris as he absorbed the description. “We have something similar, brewed with the roots of the heartsbane plant. When my sister arrives with water, I will make you some, if you wish?”

Idris’s brows furrowed at the mention of the heartsbane plant. The name alone sounded dangerous, but he could see the genuine excitement in Tam’s expression, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint him. “Sure, I’d love to try it,” he said with a smile, even though a small part of him wondered if he was about to ingest something that might kill him.

Before he could ask any further questions about heartsbane, Tam suddenly looked up, his attention shifting to the open kitchen wall. Idris followed his gaze but couldn’t make out anything beyond the usual sounds of the forest—birds, the rustling of leaves, and the occasional distant crack of a branch.

And then, he heard it: footsteps crunching on the forest floor, unmistakably heading towards Tam’s house.

“Do you wish to meet my sisters?” Tam asked, his expression hesitant, as if waiting for Idris to decide. “You do not have to, if you’re not ready.”

“I want to meet them,” Idris assured him, smiling to put Tam at ease. “As long as you promise not to tell them about the wolves last night. I’d like to keep at least some pretence of dignity.”

Tam’s lips twitched into a smile. “I promise.”

A sharp, high-pitched whistle cut through the air, one that Tam answered with his own. Idris watched in surprise as two faeries emerged from the trees, dragging a crude wooden cart behind them. The cart was laden with large water coolers, their sides worn and scratched, and one of the bottles was already half-empty.

Tam greeted his sisters immediately, exchanging a quick nod with the older of the two and a hug with the younger. Then, with a bright smile, he turned back to Idris.

“Idris! Come and meet my sisters,” he said, beckoning him over. “This is Arlyn,” he gestured to the taller of the two, “and Yuli.” The younger sister curtsied at Idris, her face lit up by a tentative smile.

Arlyn was striking—her sharp bobbed fair hair and cat-like golden eyes gave her a predatory, almost dangerous look, but there was a warmth in her gaze. Yuli, in contrast, was quieter, her fair hair and angular features giving her a delicate air. But it was her eyes that captivated Idris—those same deep, dark eyes as Tam’s, full of something unreadable, something distant.

Arlyn stared at him with an amused smirk, her golden eyes narrowed.

“It’s rude to stare,” she remarked, still staring.

Yuli, on the other hand, seemed to be trying her best not to stare, her gaze fixed on a spot just over Idris’s shoulder.

“I’m... sorry,” Idris stammered, embarrassed. He had no idea what faerie etiquette was like, and now he feared he had committed some grave social faux pas.

“Leave him be,” Tam said, sounding mildly exasperated.

Arlyn rolled her eyes before lifting one of the water coolers off the cart and dropping it with a thud onto the ground.

“Do you swear this water has not been tampered with during transport?” Tam asked, his voice colder now, his gaze sharp as he met Arlyn’s eyes.

“Do you think so little of me?” Arlyn shot back, her voice matching his in icy sharpness.

“Can you blame me?” Tam replied, his tone hard.

The exchange felt like a tense, unspoken history between the two, one that was as familiar as it was volatile.

“Hurting Idris would hurt you, and you know I would never wish that,” Arlyn finally said, sighing as though the matter was settled. “I swear the water is untouched.”

Tam’s expression softened, though his eyes still held a faint edge. “Good,” he said, his voice returning to normal. “I had planned to brew some heartsbane roots for Idris. Would you care for a cup?”

Arlyn nodded, her lips twitching into a smile. As the older faerie busied herself with the water, Yuli sidled up to Idris, her expression serious as she gazed up at him.

“You won’t like it,” she warned. “Heartsbane tastes like bitter earth, no matter how much honey and cream you add to it.”

Idris laughed, the mention of bitter earth reminding him of his younger sister Sana, who had said the same thing about coffee the first time she’d tried it. “I think I’ll try it anyway,” he said with a wink. “Since your brother is being so kind.”

Yuli’s face lit up with a secretive grin as she gave a solemn nod, clearly pleased with his decision. She sat down cross-legged by the fire and tugged Idris down to join her, and for a moment, Idris felt as though he were part of something far larger and more mysterious than he could have ever imagined.

“What is it like being human?” Yuli asked, her voice soft but inquisitive, the kind of question that made Idris pause and reconsider the very nature of his existence. She was staring at him with those penetrating, ancient eyes, the kind that seemed to look right through him, and he could tell that she wasn’t just asking out of curiosity—she wanted to understand, wanted to know what it was like to walk in his shoes, to live with the limitations of his human form.

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but found himself smiling slightly in response. “What’s it like being faerie?” he countered, almost joking, though there was a sincerity to the question that he couldn’t quite mask. He’d been learning bits and pieces about faerie life, enough to know that it was both wondrous and strange in ways that humans couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He could never fully understand Tam or Yuli, or the world they came from, and perhaps that was why their worlds felt so vastly different from his own.

Yuli laughed at his reply, a sound like chimes in the wind, and her smile brightened. “Being faerie is the best,” she said, her voice light with certainty, as if there was no question in her mind that her life was the pinnacle of existence. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and for a brief moment, Idris felt a flicker of envy. What would it be like to be so sure of one’s place in the world, to be at ease with the magic that coursed through your veins, to never question your purpose or identity?

Before he could respond, Tam spoke up from across the room, his voice carrying the kind of casual suggestion that made it clear he was accustomed to making plans on a whim. “I thought we could travel to the hot springs today,” he said, his hands busy grinding a handful of roots into powder with a mortar and pestle. “Or perhaps show Idris the Great Hills.”

Idris was about to agree, when Arlyn chimed in with her own thoughts. “Both excellent ideas,” she said, her voice smooth, but with an edge of something Idris couldn’t quite place. “Though I will not be joining.”

Tam paused, the pestle frozen in his hands as he looked up at his older sister. His expression, one that Idris had already come to recognize as his “trying to figure out what someone else wanted” face, was a mix of confusion and careful thought. “Oh,” he said quietly. “We could do something else if you would prefer. I do not mind where we go, so long as I can make the most of this last week with you.”

Arlyn’s response was quiet but firm. “I have to leave,” she said, her voice heavy with an unspoken weight. “The Queen is sending me into the Unseelie Lands to deliver a message to the King.”

The words hung in the air, thick with the implication of something far more significant than a simple errand. Tam’s face, which had been soft and easygoing just moments before, now became a mask of barely contained emotion. He resumed grinding the roots, his movements more forceful, almost angry.

“You could have said no,” he said, his voice colder now, and the words carried the weight of years of shared history, of sibling bonds that had been stretched thin by unseen forces.

“I could not,” Arlyn replied, her voice almost apologetic, but there was no mistaking the resignation in her tone. She wasn’t asking for forgiveness, merely stating the facts.

Tam’s frustration boiled over as he continued to crush the roots with an intensity that seemed to mirror his inner turmoil. “She is doing this to punish me,” he said, his voice tight. “To punish us both. Why would you agree to leave now, when I have precious little time left here, and—”

Arlyn interrupted him with a sharp, almost pleading tone. “She has promised to give me back Mama’s jewelry,” she said, and there was a deep sadness in her words that made Idris feel like an intruder, like he was standing at the edge of something too raw, too personal. “I know she is toying with us, I know, but I just couldn’t say no. I will still see you occasionally in the Hunt, but Mama...”

Tam’s face softened at the mention of their mother, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, leaving behind a quiet sorrow. “I understand,” he said softly, his words barely above a whisper. He set the mortar down, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on him. His hands folded over his knees, and Idris couldn’t help but notice how his grey eyes seemed to hold an ocean of emotions that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully comprehend. It was a look that felt too private, too vulnerable, and Idris almost felt like he shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be witnessing this fragile moment between siblings.

Yuli, who had been silently observing the exchange, shifted uncomfortably beside Idris. Her eyes darted between her older siblings, as if she too wasn’t sure how to navigate this delicate terrain.

“I will hurry,” Arlyn promised, her voice full of determination. “I will gladly forfeit sleep to make it back quicker.”

Tam’s jaw tightened. “And I suppose you are to take Yuli with you?”

Arlyn nodded, her golden eyes full of sorrow, and Tam’s jaw twitched as he gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment.

“I see,” Tam said simply, his voice flat, and Idris couldn’t help but notice the way the words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings.

Idris felt a sharp pang in his chest as he watched the siblings exchange this unspoken farewell, and the urge to reach out to Tam, to comfort him in some way, was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t fair, none of it was fair. Was it because he had mistakenly married Idris? Was this some sort of punishment, a cruel consequence of his unexpected union with the faerie? He didn’t understand the customs of this world, the rules that governed their lives, but seeing Tam so clearly hurt and conflicted made him question everything.

“Well,” Tam said, his voice horribly calm, as though he were suppressing a storm inside him. He picked up the mortar of powdered roots and turned back to the tea. “We shall share this tea, at least, and I shall carry hope that I will see you both again before I must leave.”

Arlyn’s voice was soft, filled with regret, as she said his name: “Tamriel.”

Idris expected her to say more, to apologize or to express her sorrow for leaving, but there was nothing else. Sometimes, silence was all that was needed, and Tam seemed to understand it in a way that made Idris feel like an outsider once more. There was grace in their parting, but also a quiet pain that was impossible to ignore. Idris wondered if he could ever understand that kind of bond, the unspoken language of those who had lived together for centuries, and yet who were still so far apart in their worlds.

Yuli, sensing Idris’s discomfort, tugged gently at his arm. “It’s alright,” she said quietly, her voice a soft whisper in the silence. “At least he has you.”

Idris glanced down at her, and for a brief moment, he could see the understanding in her eyes—the unspoken realization that even if he couldn’t fix everything, he could still be there. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Yeah,” Idris agreed, though his voice lacked conviction. He wanted to believe that his presence could make a difference, but as he watched Tam’s shoulders hunch under the weight of his unspoken burdens, Idris wasn’t sure if he could truly offer any comfort. What was the point of being there if he couldn’t ease the pain?

When Tam handed him the cup of tea, Idris tried to convey his sympathy, his apology, with a look. He wasn’t sure if it reached Tam, but the small quirk of his lips in response seemed to say thank you without needing words.

Tam turned away to serve Arlyn, and for a moment, Idris stood there, holding the cup, lost in thought. Maybe he couldn’t make things better, but perhaps, just perhaps, he could make them bearable. He would try. He had to.