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He stared.

And stared.

He gingerly sank to his knees, his trembling hand reaching tfor Ferall. Then, very softly, as if afraid the thing might vanish if spoken aloud, he whispered, "Where…where did you get that?"

Fae moved on instinct.

She snatched Feraal up, clutching him to her chest, then slipped him behind her back, shielding him with her body. Her heart hammered so hard it hurt. "That is mine," she said. "It's just a toy."

'Just a toy? I am insulted,' Feraal whispered in her head.

Haruko-san did not seem to hear her, but he frantically looked around when Feraal started speaking before returning to the place where the small creature had been. His hands trembled at his sides, fingers curling as though around a memory long buried.

Everyone gaped.

"I heard him. He talked to me." Haruko-san's voice turned frantic as he looked around as if searching for a ghost. Everyone had taken a step away from him. Based on their expressions, it seemed that they had never seen him like this.

Slowly, reluctantly, Fae brought her hand forward.

She opened her palm.

Feraal lay there, small and dark and still, his beady eyes fixed on the man before him. For once, he did not speak or fidget. He seemed to understand this was a moment to be quiet.

Haruko-san's breath hitched.

He reached out as though approaching something sacred, his hands trembling despite his effort to still them. With infinite care, as if afraid the slightest pressure might damage it, he transferred the little figure into his own palm. He cradled it there, cupped and reverent, as one might hold a newborn.

A single tear slipped free and traced a slow path down his cheek.

He tried to speak and failed. Swallowed hard, his throat working as he fought for control, yet his eyes never left what he held.

"My son," he said at last, the words barely more than breath."My son...Kenji made this."

His voice broke completely then.

"He always carried it with him," Haruko-san went on, each word dragged out of a depth that hurt to touch. "Always. I have not seen it since he disappeared."

Slowly it dawned on Fae, with bone-deep certainty, that Feraal did not belong to her alone.

Chapter 25

Haruko-san could not continue.

For the longest time he sat on the low bench, his back against the wall, his shoulders bowed as though something immense pressed upon them. His gaze never left the little wooden toy lying limp in his hand. The work continued around him, but there was a tension in the air as worried eyes followed his every movement.

At last, he lifted one hand and made a small, weary gesture to dismiss the workshop.

The others filed out quietly after clearing their workplace, replacing their tools and bowing to the master. Aiko tugged gently at Fae's sleeve, whispering that they should go, but Fae could not leave Feraal. Her fingers curled protectively, her pulse loud in her ears.

Haruko-san's voice came at last, as if waking from a daydream. "Not you."

Aiko and Fae exchanged a nervous glance. After a heartbeat, Aiko bowed and slipped away, casting one last worried look over her shoulder.

Haruko-san exhaled slowly, as if readying himself, then rose. Though silver threaded his hair, his face was that of a young man and his movements were easy. "Come with me."

He led her toward the house, his steps unhurried, heavy with memory. As they walked, he did not look at her when he spoke. "Tell me how you came to have this."

Fae told him what she could. About wandering through the craft fair and ending up in front of the stall tucked half into shadow. About how the little figure had seemed to call to her; how she had bought it and kept it ever since. She did not speak of the voice in her head, so full of warmth and sarcasm and watchful intelligence—the one who pushed her to change her life from the prison it had become. But something in Haruko-san's stillness made her wonder if he sensed more than she said.