The air in the library, usually so thick with the comforting scent of old parchment and beeswax, suddenly felt too thin to breathe.

Julian refused to neglect his duties as a tutor, but even so, he could not concentrate.

It was the morning after his supposed miracle, so his mind was still a bit out of it.

He had been staring blankly at a page of historical trade routes, his mind miles away on the thought of the Holy Empire, when the frantic tapping of a slate on wood snapped him back.

Lucius was standing beside him, his small chest heaving with excitement.

He had watched from the window—he had seen the light, the melting snow, and the way the dying child had stood up.

To a child who did not exactly understand the politics behind all of it, it was all exciting and beautiful.

He began waving his hands, mimicking the ’rising’ of the light, his eyes wide as he scribbled furiously on his slate: [YOU WERE GLOWING, MASTER! Did you see? It was as if the sun came into the yard!]

But as Lucius looked up, his smile faltered. Julian wasn’t smiling back. He looked hollowed out, his eyes red-rimmed and distant.

Lucius shook his arm, his expression shifting from wonder to a sharp, instinctive worry.

He wiped the slate clean and wrote one word, the quill screeching against the surface: [What is it, Master?]

Julian felt a lump form in his throat, so large it threatened to choke him.

He had faced Elian’s schemes and Zane’s too, but he wasn’t prepared for the pure fear in a child’s eyes.

"Lucius," Julian started, his voice cracking. He knelt on the floor, bringing himself level with the boy. "I won’t be able to teach you for a while," his hand strokes through the child’s hair. "I have to... I have to take a trip. A diplomatic trip to the Holy Empire."

Lucius froze. The slate slipped an inch in his grip.

"It’s only for sixty days," Julian whispered, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Lucius’s ear. "Two months. I’m going to look at their libraries, and then I’ll come right back. I’ll send you letters—so many letters."

The reaction was instantaneous. Lucius’s face crumpled. He dropped the slate, and it clattered to the floor.

He did not want to be comforted; he just wanted one thing.

He rushed forward, his small hands clutching the lapels of Julian’s coat with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible for a child his size.

He began to shake his head violently, his eyes swimming with tears. No. No. No. The silent plea was so loud it felt like a physical scream in the room. He pointed to the door, then to the floor, then to himself with a message that said, Stay here. With me. With Father.

"I’m sorry, Lucius," Julian sobbed, pulling the boy into his arms. His heart shattered seeing the tears in the child’s eyes.

He should’ve prepared himself for this, but he doubted any amount of preparation would help him as he watched the tears of this child without an ache in his chest.

"I’m so sorry. It’s the only way to keep the North safe. It’s the only way to keep you safe." Julian stated, his own eyes threatening to tear up. "I won’t be gone that long, Lucius. If you just be a good boy, the days will move quickly,"

But that was not enough to comfort Lucius.

He buried his face in Julian’s chest, his small body racking with silent sobs. He squeezed Julian so hard his knuckles turned white. Julian felt the boy’s desperation—a raw, bleeding terror.

He did not want to be abandoned again. He did not want Julian to leave.

After all, Julian was his favorite person.

What did he have to do to keep him from leaving? He had been a good boy. He had eaten his carrots, veggies, drank his milk, and ate his meals until there was nothing left on his plate.

He had attended the lessons with an open heart. He had answered all of Julian’s questions.

So why was Julian, why was his new ’mom’ trying to leave him now, too?

And then, he let go of his restraint, the fear that had kept his lips sealed this whole time; he broke it, thinking if he did this, he would keep Julian from leaving.

So, he spoke.

A sound broke through the silence of the library—a sound that wasn’t a sob or a breath. It was a jagged, rusty friction of vocal cords that hadn’t been used in years.

"Don’t..."

Julian froze. He pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with shock.

Lucius’s face was flushed a deep, painful red, his throat working as he fought against the invisible weight that had held his voice captive.

His eyes were locked on Julian’s, burning with a fierce and painful need as the tears rolled down.

"Don’t... go," Lucius rasped. The words were shaky, barely a whisper, sounding as if they were being pulled through thorns, but they were words nonetheless.

Julian’s breath hitched. "Lucius?"

The boy didn’t stop. He clutched Julian’s coat even tighter, his voice growing slightly stronger through the tears.

"Don’t go... Master. Stay... Stay with Daddy... Stay with me."

Julian, still taken aback, searched this child’s face, searched through the tears, and understood the child’s deepest wish.

But what could he do? The deal had already been made. He... he could not stay.

Julian let out a broken cry, pulling Lucius back into a crushing embrace.

"I’m sorry, Lucius. I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you," he whispered, his tears rolling down his cheek and falling on the child’s coat. "You spoke because you wanted me to stay," he kissed Lucius’s forehead. "But it seems I might fail you this time." He brushed his thumb through Lucius’s brows, trying to smile, but even his smile looked weak and painful. "My brave boy, please forgive me,"

Lucius cried more and buried his head in Julian’s coat, repeating the words ’stay’ as if the more he said it, the more chances of Julian staying would increase.

Julian’s heart shattered, over and over, as he heard the words stay from this child’s mouth, forced out of his lungs and his heart.

He felt weak, and this was a weakness no holy power could heal.

Why was he causing the child such pain?

Why was he making the child he loved so much cry so painfully in his arms?