Page 47 of His Noble Savior

Birds chirped in the trees, their song sweeter than any melody known to humankind. The birds hung their long, curling tails off the branches and spread their wings, showing off their bright coats. Young rabbits hopped around a grazing fawn, playing hide and seek between its legs.

Had Lilian reached the Spring Court right after escaping captivity, he would’ve wept in joy. Now, he felt nothing. The relief of having outrun the orc didn’t come. There was a gaping hole in Lilian’s heart, in the place where Richard had been with his kind eyes and sure hands.

Lilian didn’t bother approaching the houses. He’d find nohelp or comfort with the fae who inhabited them.

Bone-tired, he wandered the Spring Court. The familiar scenery faded into the background as he set one foot in front of the other. He was hungry, so hungry. He’d foraged a little here and there but hadn’t enjoyed a proper meal in a week. Where could he get something warm to eat?

Lilian attached all his hope to his home in the hollow tree. Any food he’d left there would’ve gone bad except his jars of jam. He remembered preparing different flavors: apricot, strawberry, peach… They ought to have kept. Lilian could almost taste their sweetness on his tongue. He was desperate enough to eat the jam by itself if that was the only way to restore his energy. Then he’d curl up with his blanket and sleep for a day before he thought about doing anything else.

But he was worried too. He hadn’t been home in so long and hoped the hollow tree hadn’t flooded. There were cracks in the bark, and when it rained, water got inside. He used to lay out pots to collect the water, but in his absence, the rain would’ve freely poured into his home.

Lilian’s tree stood on the edge of a forest, a meadow rolling out its green carpet at his front door. The first sign something was amiss was that the rug he’d used to cover the opening in the tree was gone. Normally, the thick turquoise fabric hung from a rope over the entrance, covering it. It was missing.

Lilian sprinted toward the tree, his tired feet carrying him across the field. Maybe the wind had carried it away. Lilian bit his bottom lip. He needed that rug to keep the warmth in and the weather out. If it was gone, he’d have to work hard to replace it—rugs weren’t cheap.

As he got closer, a sense of foreboding crept up his spine. He couldn’t see anything that should’ve been inside the tree: the shelves he’d built, his potter’s wheel, the green towel with thepink flowers that was supposed to hang from a protrusion.

Panting, Lilian arrived at his hollow tree, the opening a big, yawning mouth. His home was empty, save for a few cherry blossom petals, which the wind blew across the earthen floor. Empty. Lilian’s eyes stung.

How could that be? There was nothing left of his belongings. The jam was gone and so was his blanket. His carefully crafted pottery had disappeared. The contents of the hollow tree had vanished, all evidence that Lilian had once lived here eradicated.

This couldn’t be real. Gingerly, Lilian stepped across the threshold, his hand gliding over the inside of the tree. He ran it along his home’s circumference, hoping that his fingers would find something his eyes couldn’t see. Why was everything gone? Dizzy, he slumped against the wall.

Someone must’ve ransacked his home while he’d been gone. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed in the faerie realm since he’d left. He’d spent six months in the human world, but that could’ve been six weeks in the Spring Court. It could’ve been six years.

Lilian’s entire life before his captivity was gone. Like it’d never happened. Tears spilled onto his cheeks. He was bone-tired. All he’d wanted was to get home and lie down with his blanket, find a few hours of peace among his meager belongings. Lilian owned nothing of value, and the little that he did had been taken from him.

He’d have to go on for a bit longer, find Flora if she still lived in her cave. She’d be relieved to see him alive, and he could ask for her help while he got back on his feet.

It tore his heart to pieces, but he couldn’t return to Somerdale Castle. For all he knew, it might’ve been overrun by orcs. Either way, he couldn’t go back to Richard. Soon, he’d be married to Bellerose and start a new life with her. Perhaps it was better this way—Lilian would’ve had to leave the castle sooner or later.Bellerose had made it clear he wasn’t welcome past the wedding day.

He wished he could’ve said goodbye to Richard and held him one last time. But then again, the pain of such a farewell would’ve broken them. Sometimes a quick and unexpected ending was a kindness. Once Lilian had rebuilt his pottery, he could save up for a messenger to ride to Somerdale Castle and tell Richard he was alive and safe. More or less.

Lilian wove through the forest. Flora’s dwelling wasn’t far from his, and he found her cave with ease. Smoke drifted out of the cavern’s mouth, which was a good sign, though Lilian couldn’t be sure that it was still Flora who lived there.

Lilian loved his hollow tree, but objectively, Flora had the better house. The cave sheltered her from the elements; it was larger than Lilian’s tree and easier to keep warm.

As he approached, the rhythmic clattering of a potter’s wheel made him smile. Yes, Flora was home. His breathing became lighter. Flora would help him.

The rattling of the wheel grew louder with every step. At the cavern’s entrance, skewered mushrooms were roasting over the flames of the fire pit. Lilian’s mouth watered. Perhaps Flora would be willing to share if he offered a service in return.

She didn’t see him, her eyes fixed on the bowl spinning on the wheel before her. A smile played on her lips as she worked, white-blonde hair tucked behind her pointy ears. Lilian’s gaze drifted through the cave. There was a second potter’s wheel. Lilian blinked. It was his! He’d know it anywhere—one of its legs was bright red from the paint he’d once spilled.

His shelves lined the cave’s walls, and there, among his painted vases and dishes, lay his sky blue blanket. Next to it, he spotted his wooden comb and his rug. Some of the paintbrushes scattered around the cave looked familiar too. Had Floraremoved his belongings from his tree to keep them safe?

She lifted her head and did a double take when she spotted him. “Lilian!” Flora jumped off her seat and went to wash her hands in a bowl of water, her back stiff. “You’re alive!”

“It’s good to see you.”

Flora wiped her hands on Lilian’s green and pink towel. “I didn’t expect you to come back.” She didn’t sound happy that he had.

Lilian’s eyes drifted to the fine pottery she’d crafted, to the beautiful dresses and robes that hung on the wall. Things had been going well for her. She didn’t seem to have all of his belongings. The jars of jam were missing, and so were the flower pots he’d made. Had she tucked them away?

“A lord saved me from the orcs,” Lilian said, gaze flicking over the contents of her cavern.

“How nice for you.”

Lilian picked at the skin around his fingernails. “I was shocked to see my home empty when I returned, but I’m glad you stored my things for me.” A hopeful note swung in his voice.

---