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Hunter is nine years old when the princess goes missing.
The worst part is that he doesn't even notice.
Later on in his life, meaning every single day after this one, it will be impossible for him not to notice. Luz will be the first thing he checks on when he wakes up and the last thing he checks on before he sleeps. Hunter will memorize every second of her schedule and make sure she's exactly where she needs to be, all the time, and she'll laugh about how he's an overprotective micromanager, and he'll grouse about how she's a huge pain in the ass, and she'll say, "But I'm cute though, right?" and then she'll smile in the way that always makes Hunter's chest ache a little less, and he won't be able to stay grumpy at all.
Later in life, all of that will be true.
But on this day. On this day, she goes missing.
And Hunter doesn't notice.
The Emperor is the one to apprise him of the situation. He arrives at Hunter's bedroom door and lightly knocks, as though he doesn't want to intimidate. Hunter answers, expecting literally anybody else, expecting maybe even Luz herself.
He freezes.
The Emperor is maskless and dressed informally, his blue eyes friendly, like he's not here on official business. Hunter isn't scheduled for any lessons or training for an hour; he can't possibly be in trouble. So he doesn't know what Belos wants. Already, even before he understands what's happening, his palms are going clammy.
"Your sister missed a morning lesson with me," the Emperor says, lightly, without preamble.
Sweat breaks out on the back of Hunter's neck.
The Emperor smiles down at him. He does not look angry, but that doesn't mean Hunter can relax. Sometimes the Emperor doesn't look angry until he does. Sometimes the genial tone is a trap. Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes–
"Is she here, by any chance?"
He makes a big show of craning his head to look inside Hunter's room – the open book on the bed, where Hunter had been splayed out reading, the plushies on the shelves, the healing kit on the table, the meticulously-kept notes and objects on the desk.
"Ah," the Emperor continues, answering his own question, "no. Of course not. What a pity."
Hunter can't breathe.
Belos doesn't seem to notice, or simply doesn't care.
"Would you kindly retrieve her, my dear boy?" he asks, still smiling. "I don't have the time to seek her out myself. No need for her to make up the lesson, I'm very busy today."
Hunter nods tightly. There's no other option, never has been. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Belos must hear something in his voice, see something in his face, because he doesn't leave right away. Instead he steps inside and pulls the door closed.
Hunter tries not to whimper aloud. He shuts his eyes for the briefest of moments.
When he opens them again, the Emperor is kneeling before him, something he almost never does. It puts the two of them on an even level. Hunter can see the deep lines in his face, the creeping pulse of the wild scarring over his nose. He can see oceans in the Emperor's eyes, but he can't read the intent in his expression at all. He's too frightened to be analytical right now.
The Emperor brings a hand up to cup Hunter's face, gripping his jaw. It's steel. Calm, but firm, a sign that he's not quite as relaxed as he's pretending.
Hunter doesn't flinch, physically. But the breath does rasp all the way out of his lungs, a wheezing gasp of terror.
Pathetic.
"I'm not angry with her, Hunter," the Emperor says gently, which is a relief, if it's true.
Of course, Hunter doesn't miss the implication: I am angry with you.
This was your responsibility. You're meant to keep her on track. It's been so long since she last vexed me. Aren't you supposed to keep her from vexing me? Why can't you simply do as you're told?
There'll be hell for him to pay later, no matter how fast he finds Luz. He's sure there'll be hell to pay.
He can't think about that right now.
"I'm only worried about her," the Emperor continues. "You'll remind her not to make a habit of this, yes? I'll be very unhappy if she makes a habit of it. It's important to respect my time."
Hunter tries to nod, but the grip on his chin is too strong. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Good boy." Belos releases him and stands, turning away; Hunter wilts with relief. "I trust it won't take you long. But you have my permission to be late for your own lessons, if need be. You know your sister's well-being is my top priority."
-
Luz isn't Hunter's sister.
She's his responsibility, but she isn't his sister. If she was his sister, then he would be Belos's son, and that is very clearly not the case. His father was Belos's brother; the Emperor is his uncle, and never had any obligation to help Hunter, and was very generous to shelter him in the first place.
Hunter could be his son, if Belos wanted him to be. Belos decided Luz was his daughter when the Titan brought her here, even though she's not related to him at all. Even though she's not a witch. The Titan might have commanded it of him, but Belos has never hated his Titan-brought daughter the same way he does his errant nephew. He loves Luz exactly like a father should.
Hunter isn't angry about that. At least, not anymore, if he ever was. He can't be angry about that, because being angry with the Emperor is untenable, and being angry with Luz is impossible, and Hunter isn't upset about her being loved in the first place. He's not that kind of bitter. He's not that kind of jealous.
He could be, if Luz didn't deserve to be loved. If Luz wasn't as good as she is.
But as she is good, since she is deserving, it's just a relief. Luz doesn't know a single thing about her father's hatred or his cruelty, and if Hunter gets his way, she never will.
So.
Luz isn't Hunter's sister.
But she's an awful lot like a sister. At least, given what Hunter knows about siblings, which he's mostly learned from fiction. She's the only kid his age in the castle, and the only person he's meant to regularly see besides his tutors or the Emperor himself, and she's his best friend, and he loves her. She's a lot like a sister.
And the Emperor got upset, the one time Hunter had confusedly said, "But... Luz isn't my sister?"
He hadn't meant it impudently. He'd been genuinely puzzled. Like maybe he was stupid, like maybe he'd forgotten something important. Like maybe words didn't mean what he thought they meant.
The Emperor hadn't appreciated the insolence, even though it wasn't insolence; the notch in Hunter's ear is a permanent reminder.
So. He doesn't care to repeat that experience. It's good to avoid making the Emperor upset. In keeping with this, he doesn't wonder why the Emperor is so insistent about this strange thing that isn't true. He doesn't wonder why the Emperor has never called him Luz's brother, why when the Emperor speaks to Luz, he's only ever Hunter or the boy. Never her brother. Never her family.
He tries not to wonder a lot of things about the Emperor, because wondering about them will drive him crazy.
He just puts one foot in front of the other, does one thing at a time.
Today's thing: finding Luz. He just needs to find Luz.
He just needs to find Luz.
He needs to find Luz.
-
Finding Luz proves... unusually difficult.
She's not in her room when Hunter checks. He even checks under the bed and digs through the closet. "Your father isn't mad you missed your lesson," he calls, but she doesn't creep out of any unknown hiding spaces. The room echoes back at him.
She's not in the library, either – Hunter figured she might have gotten lost in a book, lost track of time the way she always does, but no luck. She's not in the castle kitchens, not in her favorite hidden passageways, not at the tops of the tallest towers.
By the time Hunter finishes checking the courtyard and the copse of trees beyond the bridge, there's a fresh fear snaking around his heart. His initial terror had only been about Belos's rage. It had only been about himself. Luz hadn't factored in at all, beyond his mild annoyance at her for forgetting yet another thing. It hadn't occurred to him that Luz might be unfindable, because Hunter has always found her.
Nothing in Luz's room had seemed amiss when he looked, nothing gone or broken. All her clothes had been in the closet. Her bed had been unmade, messy, like it always is.
Luz takes walks, sometimes. She's always fine when she does. Hunter always, always, always finds her eventually.
What if something happened to her?
Every time Hunter finds her on the towers, he worries himself sick. He's dreamed her death before, a hundred times in a dozen different ways. Not that he'll tell her that. Luz isn't someone who thinks much about death. She's too young for that, anyway. She likes to look out the windows, leaning over the sills, staring at the vast expanse of her kingdom. She thinks it's beautiful. She thinks it's magical. She doesn't understand that beauty can be dangerous.
What if she fell?
What if someone pushed her?
No, she hasn't fallen from the towers. Hunter knows that by the time he sweeps the bridge and the copse of trees, because he's already leaned out every single window, frantically searching the ground below for a tiny, crumpled body. And he's already walked around the base of all the towers just to be sure.
It's beginning to dawn on him that he might have to tell the Emperor that his daughter is gone.
He's going to kill me.
This is not hyperbole. Hunter knows it with a bone-deep certainty. It's not even his fault Luz is gone, not really, not in any way that matters. He wasn't told to watch her today. She's usually fine on her own. Somebody else should have been looking after her, or she should have just stayed put for once in her life. If nobody took her, then it's Luz's own fault that she's missing. And if she is gone, it won't be for long – the Emperor will put together a search party and track her down much faster than a powerless nine-year-old boy can. There's a lot of magic that can find a person, even one who doesn't want to be found.
The Emperor will also kill Hunter.
It doesn't matter if Luz comes home, if she's found by a search party. It doesn't matter if there are no real consequences to her disappearance. Hunter will have failed in his task, and he'll have proven he can't be trusted, and the Emperor will be furious, and the Emperor will kill him.
Hunter knows that.
He can't go back empty-handed.
He needs a new plan.
-
"Is Eberwolf here?" Hunter demands, the moment that a very aggrieved Darius finally opens his door. "I need a tracking spell."
It took a lot of pounding before Darius answered, but Hunter doesn't begrudge him this. Hunter is constantly pestering Darius, and Darius is constantly trying to nap or take long baths or otherwise avoid doing his job, so a little extra dedication is necessary. It's only when Hunter doesn't get bored with terrorizing him that Darius knows he needs real help.
"A tracking spell," Darius echoes, already irate. "For what?"
Hunter holds up a broken band he dug off of Luz's floor, which had once held together the end of one of her braids. It should have been thrown in the trash ages ago, but for once, he's glad for Luz's constant clutter. The strands of hair tangled around the elastic are more precious than everything else in the room combined.
Darius heaves a sigh. "You have got to stop being her babysitter."
"It's not like that," Hunter says.
"Oh?"
But Hunter can't tell the truth, he realizes. Not the real truth, anyway. He can't tell Darius about the fear crawling down his spine, about the tightness in his chest, about the certainty that he is in more danger right now than he's ever been before.
The Emperor is going to kill me.
Darius won't believe him. Darius will assume he's being a dramatic, hyperbolic nine-year-old.
"We're playing a game," Hunter says, desperately trying to conjure his usual brightness, the tone he always uses when he's aiming to be as annoying as possible. "Hide-and-seek. She's really good. Don't tell her I said that. I'll never live it down if I don't find her."
"Hide-and-seek," Darius repeats, dubious.
Hunter grins, hoping he looks cheerful, afraid he might look manic. "Yeah. I checked all her usual spots. She usually giggles and gives herself away. But not this time, I guess! She's wily."
Darius just looks at him.
"I have a title to uphold," Hunter adds, and despite his best efforts, he can hear the panic edging into his tone. "Champion of hide-and-seek. I can't let her take it from me. She's a pipsqueak. Come on, Darius. Come on. Help me out."
Darius continues to look at him, expressionless.
Hunter breaks.
"Please," he whispers, the facade dropping. "I can't do it myself."
Darius takes Hunter's arm and pulls him inside, shutting the door. Now safe from prying eyes, his demeanor shifts. He drops to one knee, a lot like the Emperor had earlier. There's no false friendliness in him, though, as he grips Hunter's shoulder, his fingers tight.
There's no fear in Hunter, either, not like there would be if those were the Emperor's fingers. Darius has never felt dangerous to Hunter; how could he? He wears all of his feelings on the outside instead of lying through a smile. He's as far from the Emperor as it's possible to be.
"Okay, kid," Darius says gruffly. "Tell me what the hell is actually going on."
Behind the abrasion, there's genuine concern – the complete inverse of the Emperor's visit earlier.
Hunter's throat is tight. He wills himself not to cry. "I haven't seen her since last night," he whispers. "She missed a lesson. And I can't – I can't – I c-c-can't find her."
Darius mutters several words that Hunter isn't supposed to know, most of which he's learned from books, because Darius does not care if Hunter picks up his bad language.
Then he nods, straightening up. "All right. Take a seat. Sorry to disappoint, but the mutt's off hunting. Could be days before he shows his face again. I'll make a potion. It'll be ready in twenty minutes. Is that soon enough?"
Hunter swallows. "Can it be sooner?"
"If we call Vitimir, yes."
It is a mark of how seriously Darius is taking this that he's willing to call another Coven Head. Darius does not like any of the other Coven Heads, except for Eber, who annoys him the exact same way Hunter does. Hunter's never heard Darius say anything nice about Eber, exactly, but Darius does let Eber into his rooms the same way he does Hunter, so he knows they get along.
All the same, Hunter shakes his head immediately. "No. No, don't – don't tell anyone." For a moment, he wonders whether that's a mistake – Luz could be in danger right now. But there's no one in the castle he trusts to keep a secret from Belos except for Darius. "Twenty minutes is fine."
Twenty minutes is fine.
It's going to have to be fine.
-
Twenty minutes later, Darius swirls a finger around the tracking potion. From his vantage point on the couch, Hunter sees the basin glow white as he peers down to ascertain the princess's whereabouts.
Then Darius sits up and spits several more words that Hunter isn't supposed to know.
Hunter leaps to his feet, sprinting over to the table, trying to see past Darius and into the basin, desperate to know what gruesome misdeed he's just witnessed. "Is she dead?" he demands. "She's dead, isn't she?"
"No – no, nothing like that. Morbid little shit today, aren't you?" Darius sits back, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But maybe you can tell me this. How in the Titan's name did your princess get all the way out to the Knee?"
-
Hunter thanks Darius for the help and informs him that everything is under control. But when he turns to go, Darius decides to express his displeasure. He doesn't even grab Hunter or haul him back, which would be the most practical course of action. He just teleports in front of his door before Hunter can reach the handle, blocking it entirely.
This is way more dramatic than necessary. Hunter folds his arms, more annoyed than impressed.
"How are you getting to the Knee?" Darius asks.
"I'll arrange for transportation," Hunter says, as businesslike as he can.
"Oh, you'll 'arrange for transportation,'" Darius repeats, imitating Hunter's cracking child's voice in a way that makes Hunter bare his teeth. "Absolutely not."
"You're wasting my time," Hunter says. "Get out of the way."
"Would you relax? I'll take you to her."
Hunter hesitates. This is far beyond anything he would ever expect Darius to do, on account of how Darius hates doing everything in the entire world. "What's the catch?"
"The catch," Darius says, with exaggerated, mocking patience, "is that I don't want to have to be the one to tell the Emperor his daughter froze to death while you were arranging for transportation."
Renewed fear shoots through Hunter. Darius is right – time is of the essence. How long has Luz been out in the cold? She must have left in the night, if she's managed to get all the way to the Knee. Is it snowing? Did somebody take her there? There weren't signs of a struggle in her room, but maybe the assailant put it back together. Hunter is handy with a knife and a sword, but he doesn't have magic. He'll need backup to take on a real kidnapper.
And maybe even more importantly, does Luz even have shelter? He can't remember if anyone lives on the Knee. He's never been out there. He knows it's the site of one of the usual scout trials, so he'll go eventually, but he's still in training. All of his geography knowledge is book-smarts. In his mind, the Knee is mostly a sea of winter nothingness and ancient ruins, a desolate sort of wasteland.
Is she dying?
"You said she wasn't dead," Hunter says. "You weren't lying, right?"
"If she was dead," Darius says tersely, "then I would not bother going out today. She'd be just as dead tomorrow."
Hunter doesn't like the tension in his face. There's a difference between an annoyed Darius, an angry Darius, and a genuinely-freaked Darius. His expression is edging toward the latter. Hunter didn't know it was possible for Darius to be genuinely freaked. That's a lot scarier than anything else that's happened so far.
Hunter needs to get to Luz. There's no time to argue.
So he nods, shaking out his hands and rocking anxiously on his feet. "Okay. Let's go."
-
Darius's transport magic does save a lot of time. One moment, they're in the castle, and the next, Hunter's breath is ripping away into a furious gale. The spray of snow against his face is a flurry of tiny stab wounds, stinging and frozen. His fingers instantly go numb, because he didn't think he'd need gloves. Stupid.
He did prepare at least a little, though. He has a heavy jacket and a long knife and pockets stuffed with flint. Darius just has Darius, no preparation necessary, because he's already the equivalent of a supernova.
Hunter does feel better having him here.
He can barely see through the squall. Darius is the one to lead him forward, apparently searching for whatever he saw in the potion. By the time Hunter got a proper look at the surface, the liquid was blurry, all indistinguishable white and blue and gray.
It's all Hunter can do to put one foot in front of the other, stumbling in his oversized boots. He stuffs his hands inside his jacket. All at once, he realizes just how lucky it was for Darius to volunteer to come. He's not confident he could get himself out of this storm, let alone Luz.
Luz.
She can't be out in this, Hunter thinks. She'll die. She really will die.
Darius's urgency makes more sense by the second.
-
They do find her. Eventually.
Well, first they find her shelter. It's not a house, not a hollow in a tree, not an alcove below a boulder. None of the usual places that someone might weather a storm without magic. Instead it's a mound of ice in the middle of the woods, a snow-covered hump that Hunter wouldn't even have recognized as witch-made. It looks like a small boulder hidden below a snowdrift.
Darius does recognize it, though. He points and shouts something. Hunter can't make out everything over the howl of the wind, but he does hear Luz's name. So he sprints over to the mound, slipping several times in the process, searching around the base for a freezing little girl, already imagining her blue lips, her blackened fingers.
It's on the opposite side that he discovers the entrance to the shelter, a crude hole that gives way to a hollow inside, set away from the harsh gale.
To his surprise, the interior of the structure has been fully dug out, all the way down to the leaf litter. Instead of ice, there's damp ground, which has to be much warmer than the snowpack. It's a good three feet below the icy ground he's trekking over, completely insulated from the elements.
And the inside is glowing with red light.
"Luz!" he shouts.
He scrambles into the hole and slides down until he sees her properly.
She looks up, startled, her lips parting in either confusion or shock. Her legs and her arms are completely bare; she's in the same flimsy nightgown she was last night, and the only thing protecting her toes are her formal shoes, which might as well be bare feet. Hell, even her slippers would be better – at least they have some insulation.
Hunter takes in these awful details before anything else – she's freezing, how is she awake, how is she ALIVE–
And then he realizes that her hand is on fire.
He shouts with horror, closing the space between them and reaching out to smack the flames away. The embers crumble into nothing as he touches them, but he can feel the heat. Real fire, real flames. Real danger. She knows better, she should know better, she knows what fire is. She doesn't stick her hands into the damn fireplace in her bedroom, so why is she–
Hunter grabs Luz's hand, opening her fingers, smoothing his thumbs hard over her palm to assess the damage.
There's no burns.
He's too keyed-up for relief. "What are you doing?" he shouts. "You're going to hurt yourself!"
Luz's mouth trembles, her eyes filling with tears. She yanks her hand back and hugs it to her chest.
Hunter's heart drops.
He rips off his jacket and wraps it tightly around her shoulders, shaking his head. "No, no, I'm sorry," he says, as she sticks her icy arms through the sleeves. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just got scared. I'm sorry. Are you okay? Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Are you okay?"
Luz throws her arms around him.
Hunter hugs her back immediately. Even despite his anger, even despite his terror, he's already relaxing. Luz always feels small to him – seven years is infancy compared to Hunter's much older and wiser nine – and now she feels tiny. Aside from the jacket, there's none of the padding or the gear she'd need to camp out in the snow. Hunter could swear he feels every single one of her bones; she's frail. Breakable.
Luz clings to him, tight enough for him to feel the tremor in her muscles, the unceasing shiver. Fire or no fire, she's still cold. She's still in danger. This shelter is safe from the storm, and it's warmer than the outside, but not by enough. Her breathing is rapid, shallow, but whether that's from sickness or emotion is hard to say. Her body can't weather this. Even proper witches would struggle, and Luz isn't a proper witch, no more than Hunter himself is.
But she's alive. She's here, and she's alive, and she's in his arms, and that's all that matters. He can take her home. He can warm her up. He's spent hours imagining her dead, so honestly, this is pretty damn good.
Hunter has just begun to cautiously hope that everything might be okay when she stiffens.
"No," she says.
Hunter whips around, hand already on the knife at his belt. But the only thing he sees is Darius, standing outside the shelter with his arms folded.
He turns back to Luz, his brows drawn with confusion, and that's when she starts to scream. "No – no! No, I won't! I won't!"
"What?" Hunter echoes, bewildered. "Luz, hey, it's me, it's–"
"I won't! Go away!"
This shriek is so loud and so close that it pierces his skull. Hunter lets out a low hiss of pain, flinching back, gingerly touching the tip of his ear.
Immediately, Luz crumples. "No, no, I'm sorry," she half-sobs, cupping Hunter's face, her eyes huge and watery. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – I'm sorry I shouted."
"It's okay," Hunter says, despite the ringing pitch still echoing in his head. "It's okay. Everything's okay, Luz. Hey, it's okay, you're – you're confused, you're freezing. It's just me. It's just me and Darius. Okay?"
There's the soft crunch of snow as Darius squats down outside the entrance to the shelter. For a moment, Hunter dares to hope he'll be gentle, since Luz is obviously not having a good time on her intrepid outside-the-castle adventure, and she's a lot more sensitive to meanness than Hunter.
But true to form, Darius just says, "All right, princess. You can throw a temper tantrum if you want, but you can't argue with your body. I told Hunter, too, I don't want to explain to the Emperor how his kid froze to death. Better to be a brat back at the castle. Let's go."
Hunter turns toward him, his ears pinning flat against his head, his lips curled back. "Can you just give us two fucking seconds?" he snarls.
Fuck is the worst cuss word he knows. He hasn't actually said it in front of anyone except Luz before, and even that was done through giggles beneath a blanket.
This situation feels like it warrants a fuck.
Darius's eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. He covers his mouth with a gloved hand, taking a moment before he responds. He's either very, very angry, or he's trying not to laugh. Neither of which helps Hunter's case.
But eventually he says, "Sure, kid. Let me know when you're ready. It is fucking miserable out here."
Then he straightens up and walks away.
Hunter returns his attention to Luz, as she slumps against the icy wall of her shelter. The little flames she was making must have melted and refrozen the interior; it's hard as stone. It really is a good refuge from the howling winds and snow. He doesn't know how she managed to dig it out. He didn't even know that she knew how to build her own shelter. She's not destined for the life of a soldier; there's no reason for her to have studied survival. Maybe she read it in an adventure novel.
Now that Darius is gone, her weird fit of temper seems to dissipate. She climbs over Hunter's legs and snuggles up against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, like they're just hanging out in his bedroom. Like nothing is wrong at all. Like she isn't freezing to death.
"I'm sorry I yelled," she whispers again. "I'm not trying to be a brat."
Hunter pats her hair, smoothing down her braids. They've gotten messier since last night, no doubt because she's somehow traveled further in a few hours than she ever has in her life, and her roots are growing out besides. He really should redo them.
Maybe that's the first order of business once they're home safe. He'll run her a hot bath and wash her hair and fix the braids the way Darius taught him years ago, since Luz never remembers to take care of her own hair, and the Emperor doesn't have the patience to tame her curls.
"You're not a brat," Hunter says. "Darius is just cranky because it's cold."
"Darius is always cranky," Luz points out.
Hunter hums. "Darius is just cranky because he's Darius," he concedes.
Luz laughs, an almost-silent huff. Hunter hugs her tighter against him.
"Listen, Luz," he murmurs, "what's going on? How'd you get up here?"
He'd been afraid that her feet might have carried her without her say-so, the way they sometimes do. When Luz gets upset, she runs first, solves problems later. It's how she got to the Isles in the first place, how the Titan sunk his hooks into her. The wanderings didn't stop just because her god brought her home. In the castle, she'll disappear down passages Hunter has never seen before, or she'll climb up to the highest towers, or she'll hide herself in the trees just beyond the bridge. All the places Hunter sought her out earlier.
She's never gone this far, though. To get to the Knee overnight, she must have stowed away in someone's transport, be it a wagon or a worm. Unless someone stole her, that's a method that speaks of intention. Maybe she left the castle by accident, but she had to keep going on purpose.
Why did you leave?
Hunter tries not to feel hurt. It's not practical to feel hurt, and it won't help him with the situation. Obviously Luz hadn't expected to end up in any danger, because she never does. And obviously Luz hadn't known that she was putting Hunter in danger, because she never will.
Titan help him, she never will.
She never will.
She didn't pack with any intention, at least. Of that, Hunter is sure. She's in her nightgown and her formal shoes. She doesn't have any rations, supplies, extra clothes. She hasn't even brought any books.
Luz sniffles. "I want to go home," she whispers.
Hunter exhales, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
"Okay," he says, "yeah. Me too. I'll take you home."
"No," Luz says, her voice breaking. "I want my dad."
Hunter's stomach clenches.
His whole plan depends on getting Luz back to the castle without the Emperor ever knowing she left the grounds. But he also knows that the Emperor will be kind to her, if she cries to him about what happened. The Emperor will hug her close and listen to her grievances and gently chastise her, but he'll also comfort her, and he'll tell her it's all right, and he'll promise her she's safe, and he'll be a thousand times more fatherly than Darius can manage with her.
The Emperor is always kind to Luz. This is the most important thing in Hunter's world, the single truth his life hinges upon: The Emperor is always kind to Luz.
He won't be kind to Hunter, if he finds out about all of this. But he also probably won't kill Hunter, since Hunter will have fulfilled his duty of bringing the princess home safe himself.
So. Hunter can manage. If Luz needs the Emperor's comfort, then Hunter can manage that. He can manage that. Whatever it takes to get her out of the cold.
"Okay," he says again. "We'll go to him right away. He'll be glad to know you're safe. I'll explain what happened–"
"Not him," Luz hisses, nearly spitting, sounding much more like an angry witch than an angry human. It's completely unfamiliar, not like her usual self at all. "I mean my real dad."
Hunter stops breathing.
"Luz," he says, nearly a croak.
She either doesn't hear the horror or doesn't care. "My mom, too," she continues, her voice quivering. "I want my mom. Do you think they looked for me? Do you think they remember me, still?"
"Hey," Hunter says, very soft, "hey, hey. I don't understand. You – you want to go to the human world?"
Luz sniffs hard, wiping her nose on the edge of Hunter's collar.
"I don't want to be a princess," she mumbles.
This is even more baffling. Hunter frowns. "Since when?"
"Since always! I didn't ask to be!"
"Well, nobody asks to be!" he snaps.
He feels Luz flinch at the sharpness in his tone, a whole-body jerk.
"Sorry," he amends, very quickly. "I'm sorry. You just scared me. I – I woke up and you were gone. You were gone, Luz. I couldn't find you anywhere. I thought you were..."
I thought you were dead.
"...lost," he finishes.
"I am lost," she says.
"Then it's good I came." He hesitates. "Isn't – isn't it? You're glad I came, right?"
"I'm sorry." Luz pulls back, wiping her eyes with another little sniffle. "I should have brought you with me. I shouldn't have left without you. I didn't – I didn't think. I wasn't thinking. I don't remember... I didn't think."
"Yeah, I can tell," Hunter says. Then, because he's annoyed, "What you should have brought is food. And warm clothes. And survival gear. Never mind me. You didn't think this through at all."
"Should've brought you," Luz repeats. "Then you'd plan it all better."
It's a nice appeal to his ego, in part because it's true. Hunter would have planned this excursion better, had it been up to him.
But he also would have fought like hell to keep Luz from leaving the castle in the first place.
The Isles are so full of things that want to kill a pair of snotty kids with no magic. Weather aside, there are wild witches, monsters, criminals, feral creatures, assassins... neither of them is safe outside the fortress. They never have been. Hunter knows how to weather a storm and how to fight an assailant and how to throw a knife, but he also knows that the best way to survive is not to go into danger in the first place. Everything outside the castle is danger. Inside the castle is danger, too, but it's danger that Hunter understands, and it's never dangerous to Luz, and that's what matters.
That's the only thing that matters.
Luz doesn't get that.
It's not her fault. Nobody's ever taught her.
Hunter should teach her, except he also kind of doesn't want her to know.
"I don't know how to get you to the human world," Hunter says. After all, honesty has always served him better than anything else where Luz is concerned. "I don't – I don't think there's a way there from here. Not an easy one, anyway."
Luz hugs her arms around herself, shrinking into Hunter's jacket.
"And I don't think you know, either," he continues. "'Cause if you did, you'd be in the human world already. Not up here freezing on the Knee."
She presses her lips together, shrugging one shoulder.
"I'm sorry you miss your humans," Hunter adds. Of everything he's said so far, this is the most insincere, and it shows. It's awkward, stilted.
Luz glowers at him.
"...But?" she prompts.
He wants to say, No but, except of course there's a 'but.'
"But Darius is right," he says, sighing. "You'll freeze out here. So can we... can we please go home? I'll – listen, I'll – I can find some books about the human world. And I'll read about portals, and, and, and gaps between worlds. I'll look for a way back for you. I just – it's just – please, Luz."
He's making whatever promises he thinks might sway her, desperate to get her somewhere dry and warm. He'll keep those promises exactly as much as he needs to, and no more. She has to come back to the castle. She has to get out of the cold. He'll do what he needs to do to make that happen.
Luz will forget about all of this later, once she feels better, the way she forgets all her other impulsive flights of fancy. She'll forget about the research Hunter promised, and if she doesn't, she'll forget how urgently she wanted to flee. She won't fixate on this. She never fixates on things like this for long. Hunter won't ever have to worry about her actually going to the human world.
He can promise her anything if it saves her from frostbite.
Luz swallows.
Then she shakes her head, just a tiny bit.
"No, no, hey," Hunter presses, the desperation fraying his voice, "it's not so bad, right? It's not so bad in the castle. I'll – I can find some more fun stuff to do, I'll keep you from getting so bored, I'll... listen, did something happen? Was someone – was someone mean to you?"
She shakes her head again.
Hunter nods, encouraged. "Okay," he says. "Right, no one's been mean. So it's – it's not so bad, right?"
"I don't want to be a princess," Luz whispers, but this time it's hesitant, like she's afraid of provoking his anger. "I don't want to be chosen."
"Well, you are chosen," Hunter says. But he does manage to say it patiently. "I can't – I can't make you not a princess. The Titan picked you. We have to do what the Titan says."
Luz's chin juts out, a stubborn set to her mouth. She doesn't reply.
"The Titan brought you here," Hunter tries again, searching for gentleness, for whatever words will bring her home. "He – he wanted you here. He wants you here. With – with me. You know I... listen, you know I'll take care of you, right? You don't need those dumb humans. You don't need the human world. I'm right here. The Titan wants me to take care of you. The Emperor said so, he – he knows what I need to do. And I can't do that if you go away from me."
Luz bites her lip.
Hunter gives her a minute, but she still doesn't respond. She's starting to shiver again, and this train of conversation might be making things worse, so he changes the subject.
"What were you burning before?" he asks. "On your hands? Do you have any left?"
"Oh." Luz's face brightens, the silent treatment immediately forgotten. "Oh, Hunter, it's – look, look, I'll show you."
She picks up a soaked leaf and holds it flat on her palm. It's far too wet to catch with any of the flint in his pockets, and Hunter doesn't think Luz has any flint of her own. Instead of using any traditional fire-starting methods, she presses a fingernail into the veins and carefully scratches a little drawing. Triangles and curves inside a larger circle, simplistic, almost like a stylized candle.
The leaf trembles, even though there's no wind.
Then it bursts into flames.
Hunter yelps in shock, jerking back. Then he glowers when Luz laughs at him. The flames aren't burning her at all, exactly like before, but they're just as real – warm and bright, sparking up toward the ceiling and then slowly dissolving into nothing.
"And that's not the only one, either. There's another that makes ice," Luz says, breathless. "That one's how I made the fort. Well, both of them. I made ice and then dug down really far and then melted the snow in here and then made some more ice. It was a lot of work."
As far as Hunter knows, Luz is fully human. The whole prophecy around her depends upon her being human. A faraway girl destined to save a sinful world, untouched by all of the corruption here. There's no secret witch lineage, no potential for late-bloomer magic. She doesn't have a bile sac or spells of her own, no more than he does.
This shouldn't be possible.
"Who..." He falters. "Who taught you that?"
"Nobody," she says, beaming. "I just saw it in the ice. And then I made the fort, and I dug it out, and the fire one was on a leaf, and then I could melt everything, and it's – Hunter, it's so cool."
Hunter's head spins.
He's read a lot about forbidden magic and banned practices, including texts that are way more advanced than a nine-year-old should be studying, because it fascinates him in a way he can't explain. Probably because of his own lack of magic – he can't help being drawn to the stories of people who were forced to stop using their own power. Even if those people were wild witches. Even if they were evil. Maybe especially because those people were wild witches. If it pleased the Titan for them to stop using their magic, then maybe the Titan hasn't forsaken him just because he's a half-a-witch himself. You don't need magic to serve the Empire.
"I think – I think that's elemental magic," he says. "From the Savage Ages."
"Wild magic?" Luz's eyes widen, and she closes her fist around the remaining few embers, snuffing them out. "I didn't–"
"No, no, it's okay," Hunter says. "I think – I think it's okay."
"But we aren't supposed to–"
"I think you can," he says. He can't think of any other reason why Luz would have stumbled into these glyphs, anyway, not when the practice has been extinct for decades. Nobody else has done that.
Or if they have, they haven't lived long enough to share.
"What do you mean?"
"You're special," Hunter says.
It's the wrong thing to say. Luz bristles, already poised to argue. This is, admittedly, exactly what she'd just told him was bothering her. She doesn't want to be special. Hunter is having trouble empathizing with this, on account of how things are what they are, and she is special, and there's nothing she can do about it, and so it's pointless to whine about it.
But he's doing his best.
Because he doesn't think he can weather this argument, he barrels on before Luz can say anything.
"The Titan must have given those to you," he says. "He wanted to keep you safe out here. He wanted to make sure you're okay. You'd be frozen if he didn't. Do you understand?"
It's the only thing that makes sense. Yes, the Titan hates wild magic, and yes, the Titan had stamped out elemental magic, but maybe that wasn't about the magic itself. Maybe it was just because of the lack of control. The Titan hates wild magic used for evil. Luz can't use it for evil, not if she's chosen by their god, not if she's ordained by the Empire. And even if she wasn't chosen, Luz couldn't...
Luz couldn't. Luz couldn't do anything evil. She's Luz.
Finally, she seems to register the excitement in his tone. Her expression loses the defiant unhappiness, her eyes crinkling up with a hesitant smile. She scratches the symbol into another leaf, lets it blaze up between them, the flames dancing in her eyes.
"See?" Hunter says. "It's – it's not that bad being special, is it? Look. That's not Coven magic. Nobody else can do that."
"Do you want to try?"
Hunter shrugs. "I don't think it'll work for me."
"Try it. Do you remember how? I can show you."
Hunter remembers.
Fine. He'll indulge her. At worst, she'll be disappointed that they can't share this, the same way they can't share their parentage or their destiny. At best, she'll be pleased to discover that she really is special. Proof positive of the Titan's favor.
Hunter traces a light circle into a leaf, mimicking Luz's symbols.
Nothing happens.
Luz huffs, indignant. "It has to be a better circle than that."
"That was a good circle," Hunter protests.
"No, it wasn't!"
"It's just not gonna work for me. It's okay–"
"It was not a good circle! The sides were all wobbly!"
Hunter heaves an exasperated sigh. He cannot believe they're still here when Luz should be soaking in a bath so she doesn't lose her damn toes. He's starting to think he should just sling her over his shoulder and drag her back to Darius kicking and screaming, except then she'll be mad at him for days, which might as well be forever.
He hates it when she's mad at him.
"Try it," Luz urges. "Better, this time."
He rolls his eyes. "Fine."
For her sake, he takes extra pains to make a proper circle, just so she doesn't complain again. He closes all of his lines, makes his curves as symmetrical as possible. It's not exactly easy to do without breaking the leaf, but he manages. He's quite pleased with himself, actually.
The leaf–
–bursts into flames.
Hunter shouts, even more startled than he had been the first time, hurling the fire away from both of them. The bits of leaf land against the wall like a solid weapon and fizzle out, leaving nothing but a sizzle of melted water in their wake.
"What the–" he starts.
Luz's face is radiant. She's beaming. "I guess you're special, too," she says.
Hunter's heart is beating very fast.
Luz lifts one more leaf, but this time, she doesn't draw anything. She just twirls the stem between her fingers, chewing on her bottom lip.
"Do you think there are more?" she asks.
Hunter reaches over and takes the leaf, setting it gently back on the ground.
"I don't know," he says. "But I bet we can find out, if we go to the library. Let's go to the library. There's tons of books in the restricted section. I even know where to check – elemental texts."
Luz nods, immediately forgetting that she's decided she hates the castle, her earlier distress all but forgotten. It's absurd how difficult it's been to get here. Usually it's a lot easier to distract her.
But Hunter finally lets himself exhale with real, desperate relief.
Checkmate.
-
It's when they're nearly home, Darius having teleported them effortlessly back to the end of the bridge, that Hunter takes Luz's hand. He's already planning how to draw the best and the warmest bubble bath possible, already thinking about the tiny stolen-away trinkets he can thread into her braids to make her giggle and shake her head and clink the bits of metal together.
But there's one thing he has to settle first.
"Hey, um, Luz?" he murmurs, as quietly as he can, too low for Darius to hear.
She squeezes his fingers. "Yeah?"
"Don't, um – hey. Um. Could you..." He trails off.
She frowns. "What? What's wrong?"
"Don't, um – don't say, uh... don't say that 'real dad' stuff around the Emperor. Okay?"
A cloud passes over Luz's face, the corners of her mouth tugging down. Hunter hates himself for bringing it back up, especially when he's already had to work so hard to distract her, but this is important. The Emperor is always kind to Luz, and he's very patient with her, but it isn't always easy for him. He has a curse and a sickness, and he does his best to control himself, and he takes steps to ensure Luz's safety, and he would never hurt Luz on purpose.
But. It isn't always easy.
Hunter doesn't want Luz to test his temper.
"It's just," he adds quickly, "it's just – it would make him sad. To think he's not your real dad. That would make him really sad, I think. You – you don't want to make him sad, right? I mean, he is your dad. He – he loves you."
Luz doesn't answer immediately, which makes Hunter's stomach clench hard, the same fear from when the Emperor entered his room earlier. This fear has a way of making him nauseous. He's good at keeping this fear quiet, especially around Luz, but he feels so sick.
He feels so, so sick.
She can't know.
She can't ever know.
When Luz speaks, it's not an answer to his question. She sounds a little strange, not like her usual bouncy self at all. She sounds... a little like Hunter does, whenever he's trying to be an adult, when he's trying to be taken seriously.
"You'll take care of me, right?" Luz murmurs, matching his softness. "You promise?"
"I promise," Hunter says, and he means it, just like he always does, maybe more fervently than he ever has before. "Of course I promise. That's – that's why I'm here. That's the whole reason I'm here."
Luz nods, pensive, much more serious than a kid her age ever should be. Something in Hunter's gut lurches. He thinks, She knows, but he doesn't even know what he thinks she knows, or if he's right, or if he's crazy.
Then the moment is over. Luz looks up and smiles at him, gap-toothed and beatific, and she's herself again, all of her pain and fear and grief forgotten. Just a little girl.
"Sure. I won't make him sad," she says. "Pinky swear."
Hunter exhales. Thank you. I love you.
He can't say it. She won't understand the gratitude, and if he has his way, she never will.
"Pinky swear," he agrees, and he hooks his finger with hers.