When Bright woke, Mama and Wonderful were still fast asleep, Merry curled in a ball at their side. Daddy was already off to work. That was fine—Wonderful had been too annoying to play with lately, anyway.
He’d searched through the ruins of the armory but hadn’t found a thing worth playing with. A dagger would’ve been perfect—something to practice fighting with. Daddy always walked the opposite way of the rising sun, past the cottage. He never said what he did out there, and Mama never asked. Bright had never explored that side of the mountain either. Today seemed as good a day as any to find out.
He quickened his pace as the cottage came into view. The kids in Delight had been mean—but here, they were twice as bad. He let out a breath of relief when no one came out to bother him.
Ahead stretched an orchard of strange fruit. They looked like small, unripe plums—only they seemed to glow, pale and tempting. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten before slipping out of the palace, and the sight of them made his mouth water.
If Daddy worked here—and Bright was sure he did—then the fruit had to be good. Why else would anyone keep an orchard of them? They wouldn’t miss just one. He reached up to a low branch and plucked one free.
He rubbed the fruit on his tunic and took a bite. It hit his tongue sharp and sweet at once—strange but wonderful. A tingle shot down his spine, warmth spreading through his head. Maybe just one more. He plucked another, then another, until he lost count.
When his belly was full, he started back toward the palace. Maybe he’d eaten one too many. A dull ache throbbed in his gut. And unless it was his imagination, the ankle he twisted when Giant Wrath had hurled him down was beginning to throb again.
***
Seeker’s work for the day was done. In the morning, he had pruned the trees. Afterward, he filled the small crates and hauled them to the cottage, dropping them off before returning with the empties. Most bore the same ornate M stamped on the wood. Now and then he noticed another mark—the curved smile of Delight.
It wasn’t the work he would have chosen, but it earned just enough to keep food on the table. He hadn’t hidden it from Beautiful—exactly. The chance to explain had simply never come. And she had never asked.
The man from the cottage who’d hired him said nobles in Vanity paid dearly for a single fruit. It had become a kind of sport—a dare to see how many one could eat before the sickness set in. He never touched them himself, and other people’s folly was none of his concern. Besides, Companion had said the fruit wasn’t evil in itself.
He always handed his wages to Beautiful, who bought provisions from the peddler that passed every week or so. Now and then the haulers slipped him a tip, and that kept his pipe pouch from running empty.
–
When he came home, Beautiful was pacing, worry etched across her face. “Bright’s had a terrible stomachache all day.”
“Did you try—” He cut himself off. No need to finish. Of course, no one at the cottage would have helped.
Inside, Bright lay sprawled on the bed, moaning. His face was ashen, foam gathering at his lips, fingers clutching tight into the blanket. Beautiful gasped, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Seeker pressed his palm to Bright’s forehead—it burned like fire. He clasped his son’s hand, and something slipped loose, rolling onto the blanket. His breath caught. A small, luminous fruit.
“Oh no.”
“What is it?” Beautiful asked.
“We have to make him vomit—now.” His voice came out harsh.
“What?” she said again, eyes wide.
“It’s the fruit,” he choked out. “From Beelzebub’s garden.”
“I don’t have anything,” Beautiful said, her voice sharp with panic. “Let me see if Comfort has anything.”
Seeker’s tears spilled unchecked, pattering onto Bright’s skin. Bitterness welled up in his chest, choking him. This was his fault—if only he had stopped to think.
After what felt like hours, Beautiful reappeared. “She has bitter herbs.” She rested a hand on Bright’s chest. “Hold on, my Bright.”
The moments dragged, heavy and endless, until Comfort burst in, a cup clutched in her hand, steam curling bitter and sharp from its rim. She pressed it into Beautiful’s waiting grasp.
Seeker lifted Bright carefully, cradling him upright. Beautiful pressed the cup to his lips, tilting it with trembling hands.
Wonderful padded in, clutching Merry to her chest, “Daddy, why does Bright’s tummy hurt?”
Seeker lifted the small, glowing fruit in his hand. “Because of these. They made him sick. Never eat them, Wonderful.”
She shook her head hard. “I don’t want a tummy ache.”
Comfort slipped in, gently took her by the shoulder and guided her back out.
Bright lurched upright, his body heaving. Seeker scooped him from the bed and set him on the floor, steadying him with a hand on his back. The retching came hard and fast—sour, dark bile spilling out, laced with a sickly-sweet stench that turned Seeker’s stomach.
Almost at once, color crept back into Bright’s cheeks. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “My leg hurts,” he murmured, easing himself upright. He limped toward the bed, dragging his foot with each step.
Comfort reappeared with another cup. “Here, Bright,” she said gently. “Drink this warm salt water—it will help you feel better.”
They cleaned the floor, wiped Bright’s brow with a damp cloth, and tucked him back into bed. “Sleep now, Bright,” Beautiful whispered.
Merry bounded into the room, tail wagging, and leapt onto the bed. He licked Bright’s face until the boy laughed weakly and pulled him close. With a happy sigh, Merry curled against him.
–
Beautiful’s eyes burned into him. He’d known this was coming.
“Where did he get that fruit?”
Seeker swallowed. “From the orchard—past the cottage. That’s where I’ve been working.”
“And you never thought to tell me? To tell us?” Her voice shook, anger and hurt tangled together. “What’s happening to you, Seeker? I thought you had changed.”
“I never hid it from you, Beautiful. You never asked. How else was I supposed to buy our food? Besides—it wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“Not hurting anyone?” Beautiful’s scoff cut sharp. “Not hurting anyone. Ridiculous.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “This is your fault. You did this to my son.” She spun on her heel and stormed out of the room.
Seeker felt the old ire stirring—the same fury that had once summoned Giant Wrath. The Shining One’s words came back to him. He muttered under his breath, “I don’t know how to forgive… or even if I deserve to. But I allow it.” A single tear slipped down his cheek.
***
The next morning Bright was up and moving, though his limp was plain to see. Merry bounded at his heels, tail wagging furiously. Beautiful’s eyes flickered toward Seeker, sharp with unspoken blame.
Seeker gripped his staff and stepped to Bright. “Son,” he said quietly, “I’ve carried this from the beginning of my journey.” He placed it in Bright’s hands. “It’s yours now. Lean on it when you walk.”
Bright turned it over, testing the weight. Then he crossed the floor, leaning on it with each step. A smile broke across his face. “Thank you, Dad.”
–
Seeker took Beautiful’s hand. She gave a faint tug to pull away, but he held fast.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said at last.
She only nodded, silent.
“I think…” he drew a breath, steadying himself, “we’ve stayed here long enough. It’s time to continue our journey.”
Her eyes softened. She nodded again. “Yes. Let’s continue our journey.”
