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“Isn’t it odd how empty the streets are today, Pada?” I ask as he smacks his lips, taking his enjoyment of the treat to a humorous level.

Father swallows and shrugs. “It’s likely some other ceremony we have no need to witness.”

I know he wants to dispel my concerns, but his eyes give him away. Even mentioning the dark deeds of Utsanek bothers him. Squeezing closer to his side, I let the silence carry us for a while.

“So, where are you taking me?” Father looks around at the unfamiliar buildings and passageways that converge upon us.

“Somewhere you will like, I promise,” I answer, but a frown follows.

Which way is it? I try to dredge up the memory, but it’s all a haze. Father watches me, a bemused smile barely peeking through his beard.

I let out a frustrated sigh. I might as well face it; I can’t remember where to go.

Without berating me, my father takes the lantern gently from my hand and rotates in a slow circle to get a look at the intersection. He makes a strange face and digs into a pocket in his trousers, pulling out a scrap of paper, unfolding it, and holding it up to the lantern light to get a better look. Wonderingly, he turns his eyes on me and holds it out for me to read.

“Is this the place?”

Curious, I take it from him and read, and my eyes widen.

Directions to a place called Ellithïm.

A laugh of amazement bubbles out of my lungs. “Yes, Pada. That’s exactly where we’re going.”

Enter when the way is emptyflows along the bottom of the paper. Tucking it into my bag, I check the area, but Father and I are the only ones here. Blowing out the lantern, we duck down the alley and stop at the shadowed gate. Father gives me a little nod, and I raise a shaking hand to push it open.

The scene behind is like a gigantic exhale. It’s even more stunning than I remembered. As we enter the hidden neighborhood, I steal a glance at my father. His slack jaw and amazed expression are every bit as gratifying as I hoped they would be.

“Well, what do you think?” I nudge him forward and close the gate behind us.

He replies with an arm around my shoulders and a squeeze.

We walk down the street, him gawking at the bolétis canopy, me admiring the new blossoms that have opened in the planters since I was here last.

“Téron.”

My brow furrows as a tall man with a mass of dark hair brushes past me and makes straight for my father, gripping his hand in a firm shake.

“You found your way to us.”

A shy smirk blooms across my father’s face. “Yes, but it was my daughter’s doing.” He motions toward me with his chin.

The man turns around. It’s Bryn. I don’t know what to do when he envelops me in a hug. He smells like tree sap and dust.

“Amyrah,” he says, straightening and looking back and forth between my father and me. “I don’t believe it. You’re his daughter?” He laughs, low and warm, and it loosens something around my father’s eyes. But it has the opposite effect on me.

“You two know each other?” I can’t explain why I feel a weight sink into my stomach as I watch my father act familiar with this ... stranger.

“Not as well as I’d like, but enough that I am truly grateful for the opportunity to know him better,” says Bryn.

My father nods. “Yes, me too.”

I turn to my father. “How did you meet?”

His mouth shifts to the side. “I could ask the same about you.”

Heat paints my cheeks. I shrug. “A lucky chance.”

“That pretty much sums it up for me too.” Fondness slips over his features. “A peculiar little boy introduced us, actually.”