I walked out of the market holding a beet I had just picked up from one of the vendors. Using my pocket knife, I cut it into small pieces — small enough for me and even smaller for Tee Tee, who was anxiously waiting for the snack.

  I strolled slowly, knowing I had time to spare. There weren’t many places to go that fit the window I had, so I headed straight for the Cathedral.

  My mind raced about the trip with Jupiter. I started mentally listing items I might need to bring or purchase. I had saved quite a bit over the years. Uncle Zain’s overly generous gifts often came with more gold than a week’s work in Melrose, and I had inherited my father’s sensibility with money. Between that, what I earned helping at the bakery, working the Thatcher stall, and babysitting Annie Winterwall, I had enough for something I’d been quietly wanting.

  My own home.

  I still loved living with my family, honestly. I didn’t want to miss Jacob growing up, and most people stayed home well into their thirties. But it was hard to be taken seriously as a future adventurer when your father asked you to be home before midnight so you wouldn’t wake your little brother.

  Sandy and I had always planned to get places near each other. But her rise in renown had complicated that. Or maybe it hadn’t. I’d never fully asked her — I was scared of the answer.

  There were several small homes I could afford now, but I kept hesitating. I wasn’t sure why.

  My self-doubt trailed off when I heard my name.

  “Benson!”

  I looked over to see two orcs walking by. I waved and smiled as they approached.

  “Tuggy, R.S.! How are you?”

  They both stood nearly two heads taller than me. The larger one, Tuggy, was one of the most beloved people in Melrose. His skin was a dull green, his short black hair braided along one side. Two large ivory tusks curved from his underbite. His nostrils flared wide, and he wore a simple cotton shirt and pants that strained over his massive build. Heavy boots thudded with each step, and his blacksmith’s smock hung over his shoulder. Despite his size, his eyes were gentle.

  Orcs had once been seen as barbaric, little better than goblins. Tuggy had almost single-handedly changed that perception in town.

  “Splendid, girl! How’s your father? Haven’t seen him in weeks,” Tuggy said.

  “At the Duke’s today. He’s experimenting with flavors from the Hurshee Isles — you might not see him for another month,” I laughed.

  I turned to the younger orc. He looked much like Tuggy, just smaller, with his hair styled in the fashion of young men — long, parted down the middle, tied into a low ponytail.

  This was R.S., short for Rydgheik Shyughn — a name from an ancient hero in his culture. Tuggy liked the nickname. His mother hated it. I could relate.

  “How’re you holding up without Sandy?” I asked.

  R.S. scratched behind his head nervously while Tuggy looked at him with a knowing smile.

  “I’m okay. Just… don’t know how I feel about her doing the Guild thing. You know we’ve talked about it,” he said.

  He wasn’t wrong. R.S., Sandy, Danni Tosh, and I practically lived at Tosh’s bar some nights. What started as R.S. defending Danni from Sandy’s teasing turned into friendship — then into courtship. R.S. was head over heels. He was proud of Sandy, but her success might also mean losing her.

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  Mr. Thatcher adored R.S., treated him like a second son. Tuggy felt the same, though Tuggy’s wife, Sinna, had her reservations about Sandy. To be fair, most people did.

  Tuggy put a massive hand on his son’s shoulder. “One swing at a time, son. Don’t jump to conclusions before you talk to her.”

  I smiled warmly at that — and felt a little envious. I didn’t have that kind of relationship with my father. But I was his daughter, and that was… different.

  I broke the tension. “You coming to Tosh’s tonight?” I asked.

  R.S. shook his head. “Dad’s got a meeting with the Duke tomorrow. I’ve got to be at the shop early.”

  “No worries. Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

  He gave a grunt I knew well — the sound of responsibility battling the desire to have fun.

  We said our goodbyes. Tee Tee chirped in my ear, and I handed him a piece of beet. He chittered happily, devouring it.

  I continued toward the Cathedral, my mind wandering again.

  Would I ever work with the Guild?

  Would my father and I ever have that kind of easy understanding?

  And most importantly… Would I ever have someone like R.S. had Sandy?

  I chewed the bland, earthy beet and wished it tasted like pie.

  I made it to the path leading to Father Bruno’s Cathedral, and to my surprise, my father was already there. He stood pacing, smiling, excited.

  My heart sank, and guilt followed right behind it. I knew why he was so happy.

  He saw me and hurried over, wrapping me in a hug and lifting me off the ground like I was a little girl again.

  “He approved it, Benethasia! We were approved!”

  I smiled — but it wasn’t genuine.

  My father had been trying to secure a contract that would expand the bakery beyond Melrose and Lindor. He avoided magic whenever he could, but Zelda had convinced him that using teleportation for transport would make the business thrive. That would mean more work. More hands needed in the bakery.

  Hands that had slowly been pulling away for years.

  My father didn’t see that.

  The Duke had made a declaration to help local business owners. My father was one of them. Tuggy was, too. It was wonderful for my family, and I knew how hard my father had worked for it.

  But I had other dreams.

  Still, I gave him the face he needed right now — because I was going to need something from him in a few minutes.

  “I’m so happy for you, Dad.”

  He hugged me again, then his expression softened, turning serious. He took my hand, his smile fading into something gentler.

  “Let’s go see your mother.”

  We turned from the main path and walked to the right, toward the small grove where my mother was buried.

  Father Tilden kept the area tended, and counselors were always available for those struggling with loss. My father and I had both spoken with someone after she passed. He had needed it more than I did.

  The town had come together for us. Mr. Thatcher helped run the shop. Tuggy and Sinna brought meals. Anastasia handled deliveries. And Sandy never left my side. We had both lost something, and she held my hand through it all.

  My mother’s sickness had come fast — less than a month. No one ever figured out what it was called. In the end, it didn’t matter.

  Father Tilden had tended to her himself, and even he couldn’t find an answer. One of the first lessons I learned from him: even the greatest healer couldn’t fix everything.

  It had been seven years to the day.

  For six of those years, this visit had been a ritual for my father and me.

  We reached the stone. My father let me walk ahead.

  I knelt.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  My eyes filled as I read the engraving.

  Martha Annette Plad

  Loving Mother, Wife, and Sister

  Her passion will burn forever.

  “I miss you,” I whispered. “Things are okay… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little lost. I wish I could talk to you about it.”

  I wiped my eyes. “But I’ll keep moving, just like you always did.”

  I pulled out a small bottle of Wild Fire perfume I had bought from Pierre and lightly sprayed the stone.

  “A lady always needs a proper freshen up,” I said, my voice cracking.

  My father stepped beside me. I turned and buried my face in his chest. He held me tight.

  “She’d be so proud of you,” he whispered.

  That only made the tears come harder.

  He didn’t rush me. I didn't let go until I was ready.

  I finally stepped back, I wiped my face again, refusing to look at him. I didn’t want to see his pain.

  I didn't say anything. He understood.

  As I walked, I noticed a long-stemmed Melrose flower tucked into his back pocket. I knew he loved my stepmother, truly.

  But his heart would always carry my mother, too.

  I allowed him some time alone, it wasn't long.

  He caught up to me near the edge of the grove, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and we walked home in quiet peace, outside of Tee Tee’s chitters

  My father drove me crazy in many ways.

  But in moments like this, I knew —

  I was lucky.