They trudged in silence down the hill and onto the packed dirt path that snaked through the center of the village. Florian could still see Bowen ahead of them, a few figures peeking out from their homes—and beyond that, a wolf peering at them from where it sat on a low stone wall. When he met the wolf’s eyes, it blinked and tilted its head, then stood and trotted away.
Now that he was looking, though, Florian saw more than a few wolves wandering along the road. Were they real wolves, he wondered, or shifters? Did they just normally go around as wolves? His curiosity about it all grew more and more the longer they walked; but Kade looked tense, so he decided to ask some other time.
Along with the wolves were a few humanoid figures going about their day, though most people seemed to be indoors now. Some called out to Kade, waving, and he greeted them politely in return. Some looked at Florian without any recognition, and others bowed their heads to him as they walked by, which he returned with a tight-lipped smile and a wave, still uncertain what exactly was expected of him.
Eventually, they came to what looked like a town square, with a wooden building standing taller than the rest. Kade pointed, as Florian noticed Bowen standing at its door and waiting for them.
“That’s where my family lives,” Kade said. “My dad is probably there now. It’s where we’ll sleep too.”
Florian nodded, following him silently. Bowen grinned at them as they approached.
“Took you long enough,” he said, turning to open the door for them. “C’mon in. Your highness.”
Kade led him through the door. It opened up into a long foyer, with a rack along one wall where several pairs of boots in various sizes rested. Some looked quite small, like children’s shoes.
“Take your shoes off,” Kade said, gesturing toward the rack as he moved to pull his own boots off. Florian kicked some of the snow off his heels and peeled his boots off, setting them on the rack. It was warm inside, but he could still feel a slight chill seeping through his socks. He kept his coat bundled around him all the same.
“I’ll tell the kids you’re here,” Bowen said, walking past them to one of the two doors at the end of the entryway.
Then Kade led him through the other door on the opposite end of the foyer, down a hallway where they passed a few closed doors, until finally he stopped at one at the very end of the hall. He knocked, and after a moment a faint voice could be heard from the other side.
“Is that you, Kade?”
“It’s me,” Kade answered, leaning closer to the door as he raised his voice. “Can we come in?”
“Come in, come in,” the voice answered, and Kade pushed the door open, Florian following him into the room.
It was a decently sized bedroom: a large bed pushed up against one wall, and a fire crackling in the fireplace on the opposite. Sitting in a chair near the fire, bundled in blankets, was the man who must have been Kade’s father. Their features were similar, though the older man had his fair share of wrinkles on his face, salt-and-pepper hair, and tired, dark blue eyes. But he was smiling as they entered, gesturing for them to approach. Florian knew he was sick, but here he looked almost frail; and even through the older man’s thick sweater, he could see that his limbs were on the cusp of being worryingly thin.
“Kade, so good to see you, my son,” the man said. He held out his arms, and gingerly Kade leaned down to hug him. “And the new fae king. I’m glad you got here safely.”
Florian opened his mouth to respond, but a shout interrupted him from the other end of the bed, where Florian now saw a door leading to a bathroom.
“That’s how you greet your mother now?”
A woman emerged from within the bathroom, carrying a basket full of folded blankets in her arms. Her black hair was pulled into a low bun; a few streaks of gray on the sides and a few lines on her forehead were the only signs of her age, making her look much younger than her husband. Despite her sharp tone, a wry grin played on her face, and her eyes, the color of burnished gold, were crinkled with joy. It reminded Florian of the way Kade’s eyes looked when he smiled. Kade shook his head with a slight laugh as he straightened up and stepped toward her. She deposited her basket of blankets onto the bed and pulled him close to her, hugging him fiercely.
“Hi, mom,” he said, patting her back—he was tall enough that the top of her head didn’t even clear his shoulders.
Florian turned back to Kade’s father—Kallik, he reminded himself. “Thank you for letting us stay here,” he said politely, and the older man waved his hands dismissively.
“It is our honor,” he said, reaching for Florian’s hands and pulling him closer. “I must tell you how sorry I was to hear about Jerah. I never thought I would outlive him, never. The thought grieves me, truly. He was a good man and a wonderful friend. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’m sorry for yours. You knew him better than me,” Florian protested with a nervous laugh, but Kallik’s expression remained quite serious.
“We are always friends of the fae. You’ll always be welcome here,” he said, bobbing his head in a series of bows. “King Florian, right? You’ll always have a place in our home.”
“Thank you,” Florian repeated, glancing toward Kade again.
“King! Wolf-God, he’s just a little boy,” Kade’s mother chided, stepping closer to him. Where Kallik’s hands had been almost reverent when clasped around his own, Meriwa handled him roughly with a strength that surprised him. She grabbed his shoulders, turned him to face her, and said, “Let me look at you. So skinny! I thought the Earth is supposed to have an abundance of food.”
Florian blinked dumbly at her, entirely at a loss for words. Behind her, he could see Kade stifling a smirk, but he still swooped in to place a hand on his mother’s shoulder.
“You’re scaring him, mom,” he said. “And he’s only a little younger than me. And anyway, he’s a king.”
“He is a king,” Kallik agreed, sounding irritated. “Treat him with some respect, Meriwa.”
“No king of mine,” she snorted, but took a step back from him all the same, letting her arms fall away and instead folding them across her chest. “And just like his father, too, leaving his responsibility behind.”
