Filip nuzzles into my side, and I gently stroke his hair. The warm, milky scent of childhood emanates from him, mingled with the sweet lilac soap he uses to wash. My chest puffs out, filling every crevice with his memory. Perhaps I can trade myself in his place.

Like a rocking chair, I hold him and sway, drying his tears with my sleeve before they get the chance to fall. "Don't cry now. I promise you; I won't let them take you to that castle." Filip straightens up with a nod and a forced smile, but it doesn't stop his silent crying. "Please. We don't want to upset Mama or the other children. No more tears, okay? We'll think of something."

This time he composes himself, and I give his shoulder a gentle squeeze as we walk out onto the landing and begin down the stairs. One step at a time. With my strongest effort, I smile and bounce down the last stairs, alerting the cheerful children downstairs that we're coming. They giggle from their hiding spots, and it doesn't take long until we round up each of them.

None notice the emotion we tuck deep inside, and even during dinner, Filip manages to finish his plate with a grateful smile. Mama serves Filip's favourite dessert, perhaps an apology, before sending us all upstairs to get washed and go to bed. I help them get ready, as I always do, and tuck each of them in with a kiss—affection that each child deserves but Mama never provides.

Soft snores whistle from the room, leaving the silence emptier when I retreat to my own box of a room. Away from the other children, just as Mama always preferred to keep me. Separate.

"Red?" I jump as Filip's voice whispers through the door. "I can't sleep. I feel sick. Mama won't answer the door to me." He bursts into heavy, noisy tears.

"Come here." I fling the door open and sit him down on my bed, tracing circles on the nape of his neck.

"I'm sorry." He wheezes, his politeness a trait Mama has always been proud of.

His mother. Filip's real parents. A hot warmth rushes through my fingers as I run them over my cheeks. "Filip. Maybe I can persuade your parents to take you home. You'd be safer there." I doubt the King would dare to take a child so openly from a mother's arms.

Filip blows a tuft of gold hair from his face and snuggles against my blanket. When I lay there, my feet graze the wooden beams at the end, but Filip's don't even come close to touching it. Still so much room and time for him to grow, I won't let anyone stunt it. "You can't, Red."

"Why not?" The warmth tingles through me, and I force myself into a chair to stop myself bounding out of the orphanage and down into town. To find them. Force them to see the angel they left behind.

"They're dead." He sniffs and tucks his nose under the blanket folds. "It was my fault. Mother said she was feeling sick one night, and father wasn't home to get her medicine. She told me to wait outside her bedroom door. I was supposed to protect her." Filip's voice quivers, and though he buries his face to hide the tears, his ears swell red with the pain of his memories. "Daddy came home and checked her room. I failed. The angels took her heart up there, and they took his a few days later."

Filip bolts up, eyes wide as his breathing shallows. "Do you think that will happen to me? I don't want the angels to take my heart."

"No one would dare to hurt a gift like you, Filip." I soothe him with a hummed song. He hums along with me, his head resting down on the pillow.

Sleep comes to him, easing him into the thoughtless abyss just as the final orange glow of the sunset cascades into the room, setting fire to the bland cream walls. A shift of tension pulls in my ribs, and the dull pain draws a hunger to my heart.

"I'll be back soon, Filip. With an plan." Careful not to disturb his slumber, I plant a kiss on his cheek and creep from the room, down the stairs and from the orphanage.

A shot of fresh air cleanses the sombre comfort from my head, the vision of freedom with Filip becoming clearer as I hurry down the hill towards the farms. To Calen's house.

There's a wisp of breeze to the air now, the scent of pine and residual burn of sun upon the leaves now strong in the town. Groups of all ages are out, soaking in the remnants of summer before the change of season, oblivious to the secrets of the orphanages. The turn of the leaves that Autumn provides is a wonder I will fight to let Filip see again.

Against the strict lines of crops stretched over the fields in the distance, Calen's house is quaint and pretty. Bright white beams and rows of potted flowers decorate the freshly painted walls—a whipped country cream colour. Calen made the fence himself; a palisade of neatly cut posts hammered into the ground, and delicately chosen pieces lashed together with thick wire. It encases pens of pigs and lambs reared and prepped for slaughter, while the rest of Calen and Finn's stock grazes rather freely over the meadow; only trimmed bushes and well-placed rocks there to guard them.

I reach the door and lift the iron knocker. A high-pitched whine cries from a little blanket on the deck. It moves, whining and whimpering on the floor, a rope stopping it from running to my legs.

A puppy. All black but with a patch of white fur at its chest and three of its feet. I bend to pet him but flinch—the pup only has one eye. It licks my fingers until they tickle and when I massage behind it's pointed ears, it's tail bounces with blissfully ignorant joy.

The door opens, and Finn's gruff chuckle brings a genuine smile to my cheeks. "Sorry Finn. I was going to knock but..." I look down at the puppy, now pining for another show of attention.

"Not to worry, not to worry. But you don't need to knock Red. You're always welcome in," he gestures me in, so I give the pup another stroke behind the ears before hopping up to follow him, "as well as Filip of course."

He limps through the halls, and the salted taste of meat wafts through from the kitchens before he even opens the door. Mouth full of saliva, I almost dribble as I ask, "Where's Calen?"

"In a meeting right now. Won't be a minute." Finn's pitted face hovers over the steaming pot, inhaling the food deeply before frowning and turning to his extensive collection of herbs, shelved neatly on the wall. To me, they all look the same, but he picks out one with a satisfied smile and sprinkles a pinch into the pot.

"What meeting?"

"He's talking with some of the guys from the mines. I don't know. He called it a meeting. Want some?" He adds, stirring the pot with a hefty ladle. "One of my old-time recipes. Very famous back in its day."

Finn winks as my stomach growls so audibly it hurts. But already I have eaten dinner and snacks. "It smells amazing, Finn, really. But I've already eaten and—"

"And you're still hungry. Come on Red. What did you have for breakfast and lunch?"

I clear my throat and smile down at the plate he serves me. "Nothing." Finn grins at me with a tap on his nose. "Thank you."

"Just looking out for you. Now, tuck in."

Tender chunks of lamb, coated in thick, beefy gravy swim around plump peas and chopped potatoes. I capture a hunk of carrot with my spoon and pop it into my mouth. It melts on my tongue, and the buttery flesh releases the hints of onion and meat it soaked in. I inhale each spoonful, letting the scent of such rich juices and fresh produce burn into memory. If they do accept me in place of Filip, I may never taste this kind of treat ever again. If they don't, I'll be a fruitless—probably dead within the week.

"I've never seen you enjoy food this much. I know I'm a brilliant cook, but Red, you're eating as if it's your last." Finn laughs heartily, but the smile fades from my lips as I place the spoon back down on the table mat and gulp down my mouthful. "Red? What's wrong?"

A tingling in my nose makes me sniff. Once. Twice. A fight to hold back the onslaught of tears that sting each pore of my cheek as they slide down. But it's okay. It will have to be okay. This is my future, and if I fear for myself that's less focus I can put on saving Filip. "I've grown too old for the orphanage." The words slip from my tongue, mixing with the salty tears and taste of comfort food. Finn's eyes narrow, searching for the words that he must know are bound to follow. "I have to leave tomorrow."

"Red—"

"No. Don't say anything about me. It's fine. My fate is better than Filip's. At least I am sure to die. But Filip... There's a secret, Finn. One the King has been hiding under punishment of death."

Calen walks through the open door with a grin that quickly dissipates. "Dad? What's happened?"

He takes a seat next to me, resting a hand on my back as he looks between me and his father. I move and he withdraws it. "They're making her leave the orphanage tomorrow." Calen's fists curl on the table. "And Filip... Red, what is it? What's going to happen?"

"Mama said the King takes a child from each orphanage occasionally. Up to the castle. We don't know why. They're going to take Filip, Calen." I almost shout the last bit, my hands shaking on the table. I press them into the cool wood, but still they quiver.

They say nothing. I squeeze my eyes to hold in the pain flowing too freely from them. A pair of hands cocoon one of mine, each dry patch and scar scratching the itches running from my fingers to my wrist. "We'll help you, Red." Calen coos gently, his thumb tracing the bones on the back of my hand.

"Anything you need, Red, know we're always here to help you." Finn stands, hobbles over and bends awkwardly to embrace me. I melt in heat, and my breathing shallows. I shake them both off.

"No. Helping me like that will only end up hurting you. You know the punishment for helping a fruitless."

"Don't use that word." Calen's eyes roll into a shade of flint, knuckles cracking in the silence. "They're people. It's a disgusting term to remind us that we obey the King, and our purpose is to provide him with money and talents. If you have nothing to sell of yourself, you're deemed worthless." Calen wipes a sheen of sweat from his brow.

"Calen, I'm one of them."

"Then we'll help you." Calen grips the table hard.

"That'll get you killed."

"Then so be it." He pushes on the table hard and a knocks Finn from his chair. In a second, his eyes lighten back to their golden brown, and he rushes to help him up. Finn strains a smile, stroking his son's hair as he regains his seat. "I'm sorry. I just think that if someone finally stood up to him, the King, maybe it would bring change."

"Things don't change that easily, Calen. And I don't have time to wait around for it to happen."

Finn runs a finger around the rim of his glass, tapping on it every so often to break the suffocating silence. I push my plate away, closing my eyes against the pain growing once again in my head.

"There's talk of change Red. A whisper in the mines. We want to refuse work, to fight back against the stupidly strict rules we live in. If what you said about the castle taking children is the truth, we may finally have a spark. Something that makes the others in this Kingdom see how evil our King is. He must be stopped."

"That's what your meeting was about?"

Calen wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, then sits back in his chair. "We've been planning a few moves of resistance. Something to show the King we're not going to bow to his regime anymore."

The right words to describe how I feel about it get lost somewhere between my brain and my tongue. But none of it matters. Only Filip.

Calen sighs deeply. "Wait here. I have something for you." He strolls from the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

Finn clears the plates away, busying himself at the sink while I dry the stains on my cheeks. The yap of the pup drifts through the open window. Finn shakes his head. "Bloody dog." He pours himself a fresh glass of water. "He was left in a crate by the side of the road. All shaken and hungry—the runt of a litter I suppose. Calen brought him back here to help us herd the sheep. He's a Collie, you know, naturally brilliant herders. But he's one-eyed, and about as smart as pigeon."

The smile that worms its way onto my lips satisfies Finn enough to grin over his shoulder. But his eyes catch something on the wall behind me, and he recoils back to the dishes. "Can't keep him though, I'm afraid. My leg kills me, and Calen's going back to the mines after the season change. No one to walk him, you see."

"Then you'll sell him?"

Finn sucks in air through his circled lips, head shaking. "No one would buy him. The poor boy only has one eye. I would let him free into the forest if he wasn't so attached to humans, and well, you know what Straights do to stray humans, let alone dogs."

Calen returns, a tightly wrapped bundle of fabric in his fist. "It took me a while, but I wanted to make one for you in case I'm not around to protect you. A defence. Now, I need you to use it differently: as a weapon."

He eases the bundle onto the table, and I lean forwards in the rickety chair. A heat runs up my fingertips as they hover next to the fabric, and in a burst of heat, I flick the material away. A burgundy sheath, adorned with silver entrails running from the stitches to the hilt. Flowers carve into the black handle with such delicacy and detail that each petal, each leaf, runs with veins of life. I unsheathe it: a two-sided knife with intricate foliage creeping up the spine. Masterfully crafted, the luxury feels itchy in my hands—as if just as weary of me as I am of it.

"Use it to find food. Take skins to make clothes. Attack should you succumb to the situation."

"Calen?" My voice is a whisp of utter confusion. He wraps his hand around mine, pressing my wet palm into the metal.

"Run away, Red. Now, with Filip while you have the chance. Follow the stream from the shallow lake in the meadow. Live out in the forest, or find a Kingdom to settle in. Take care of him until he's old enough to take care of you." He lifts my chin, and my teeth bite together. "This Kingdom is about to change, and I don't want you here for the worst of it. One day I promise I'll come and find you, but if you don't leave now..."

His voice continues, and though I focus on each line on his lips, count each time his tongue wets them, no sensible words register in my head. The urgency in his eyes grips my entire being, but instead of running, I'm fixed. Completely shackled to the Kingdom I had planned an entire future within. Torn between protecting Filip from the unknown fate dealt by the King, or from my experienced horrors that lie beyond the borders of his lands.

Finn's eyes meet mine. Two pebbles without their joyful twinkle. He bows his head lowly, the greys peeking through his scalp wiry like the whiskers of an ungroomed feline. A rapid beat builds within, like the decision is made and I'm already running. Again.

"I can't. I spent years beyond this castle, searching for a home. I found it here. The people, the streets, the forests. I know what lies beyond it. I can't take Filip away from home and into fear."

Calen pinches the space between his eyes, massaging the skin gently. "If you don't take him now, then soon the King will."

Finn stands, a grunt of pain breaking Calen's unwavering gaze. He hurries to his father, helping to lead him to me. "Get some rest. Think about it, and then when you're ready, go before it's too late." He bathes me in a hug, the scent of the soup nestled on his shirt, then hobbles out to hall.

Moonlight shivers through the window as I pick up the knife once more and tuck it into my boot. A heaviness droops my shoulders, and I ache for my bed. To see Filip there, safe and asleep. Gentle, to not disturb the pain in my head, I rise from the table and amble towards the door.

"Not going to say goodbye to me?" Calen muses as I  step into the night. His smile droops from his eyes.

"Calen, are you sure? I don't want to leave. Here." Or you. The words tumble from my lips, and I grimace at my weakness. My pathetic desire for useless reassurance.

"It's the only way to guarantee Filip's safety." And he's right. The only way to keep Filip in my grasp is to rip him from the King's. To force myself back to the place I swore I'd never take myself again—the abyss of empty wilderness.

Calen's jaw hardens as he tilts my chin up to face him again. But this time his eyes rake me, each second pointed to a different part of me as if memorising every crack and bump in my skin. He leans closer, and an acidic churning burns in my stomach. I force it down. To stay calm. He's not like the men from my past.

His lashes tickle my cheek, and I focus on counting each flutter as his lips press against mine. I squeeze my eyes shut, thankful that it was brief, just as he pulls me close to his chest. Heavy breaths fall into my hair, trembling each strand.

"Go now. Before the first light." The dejected frown he leaves me twists knots into my stomach that bile my throat. I'm sorry I can't be what he needs me to be.

A whine cries from the decking. The Collie pup lay, pawing the air at us. Calen's mournful smile restores a little warmth to his eyes as I bend to pet him. "Finn told me you can't keep him." The puppy curls onto my lap, huffing a sigh.

"We were going to..." The comfort stroking his soft fur brings almost lulls me to sleep on the spot. "Red, keep him. Maybe he'll grow strong enough to protect you." Calen grins as he shuts the door, and I bury my face into the puppy's warmth.