LUNA
Ifind Father in the common room of the Hearth.
He’s sitting in a chair, lost in a story as he gestures with his hands to the twelve little girls crowding the floor in front of him.
As I hover in the doorway yet to be seen, I let my eyes roam the faces of my father’s audience.
The girls at the front stare up at him in wonder, one with eyes so wide her irises get lost in a sea of white.
Persephone’s sister is in the back with a melancholic gaze pointed toward the window and her chin resting on her fist.
Somehow, I didn’t think about the impact Persephone’s disappearance would have on her family.
A coo draws my attention to a Nurturer rocking a toddler in a chair to my left, content to merely observe as I am.
She must feel my gaze because she glances up at me with a start.
The flinch only lasts a moment, but her body remains stiff as iron as she nods.
She looks away before I return the greeting, her body angling away as she tries to resume rocking.
This catches the toddler's attention. She fidgets on the Nurturer’s lap and tips her tiny chin up at the woman. She’s rewarded with a tap on the nose.
Motherhood has never had much appeal, so the pang in my chest as the child’s lips bloom with a grin doesn’t quite make sense. But it hits so hard, it’s impossible to look away, like witnessing something holy. Or at least pure.
The smile dwindles as the toddler notices me watching. A ringlet of orange hair slips down her temple as she tilts her head, and for a moment, I stand perfectly still. My lips curve upward as I give a little wave.
Her face contorts. Pink covers the expanse of her milky skin. And she lets out a cry so sharp it draws all the eyes in the room.
“Luna,” my father calls lightly. “You’ve come to join us.”
A dozen little girls turn at once. The girl with the wide eyes retreats into her shoulders and looks away.
I shake my head. “No, I… I can wait.”
With a friendly smile on his face, Father turns back to the girls and rubs his palms together. “Who's excited to hear what happened to Hansel and Gretal?”
Eleven hands shoot up. Only Persephone’s sister doesn’t bother.
“Good.” Father claps and stands. “When I get back, I want to hear your theories. For now, my darling daughter needs to speak with me.”
He crosses the room with an unhurried ease, every movement gentle and deliberate. It’s so performative, I question if he isn’t still stuck in his own storybook.
When Father reaches me, he places a hand on my shoulder and steers me gently but unmistakably out of the room. “Come, love,” he says, just loud enough for his audience to hear. “Let’s find something for you to eat. You look sickly.”
The door closes behind us with a soft click.
The hallway is silent save for the faint echo of children's voices behind the wall. It’s darker out here. The polished floors gleam with reflected light, but the quiet feels deeper. Heavy.
“Your presence unnerves the little ones,” he says conversationally as we walk. “You carry too much on your face.”
I glance sideways at him but don’t respond.
He chuckles, the sound low and friendly. “Children are perceptive. More than we give them credit for. They feel tension like a draft under a door.” His smile turns on me. “And yours, darling, comes in like a storm.”
Again, I don’t reply. But inwardly, I wonder if he’s right.
The kitchen is mostly empty, save for an older Nurturer sweeping near the back pantry and the distant clatter of someone washing dishes. The warm scent of pastries lingers in the air, sweet and rich. Too much so.
The Nurturer leaves without a word, and Father moves to the counter.
He lifts the edge of a linen-draped basket to reveal a collection of scones. He selects one with dried berries pressed into the top and breaks it cleanly in half, steam curling from the center. With a satisfied nod, he takes a bite, then holds the other half out to me.
I shake my head.
He raises a brow. “You sure?” he talks around his chewing. “They’re not too sweet. I had Mary make them as a treat for the girls. After losing one of their own…” He tips his head side to side. “It can be tough.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re not indulgent.” He places the half scone on a small ceramic plate and sets it gently on the table between us. “I’ve always liked that about you. So much stronger than us mere mortals.” He winks.
When he winks, something flutters in my stomach, then dies and begins to rot. An entire lifecycle plays out within a two-second window, and the next window is spent pretending I don’t understand the confliction.
Surely the day will come when I will feel nothing for his approval.
I sit on a stool but don’t reach for the food. He takes another bite, chewing slowly. Watching me.
The moment stretches.
“How is Persephone’s sister?” I ask.
He dabs the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Sad, of course. But not broken.” He leans back in his chair. “Children are more resilient than you think.”
I blink at him. Something about that feels cryptic. “Are they? Or do they just learn to smile through it?”
His eyes narrow slightly. Just a flicker, quickly masked.
“My daughter, always the devil’s advocate.” He rises from his seat and dusts the crumbs from his hands. “What is it you needed to speak with me about?”
I lift an inch from my stool, my hands grasping the counter for support, before I lower myself back down.
I should give him the higher ground.
“I’m afraid you have a problem with two of the Keepers… Last night, Aiden was caught trying to smuggle Liberty and Aubry out of the Shadow Sanctum. He’s been taken into custody, and I’ve arranged for his execution to be held at six o’clock this evening.”
Father hums, his kind expression never breaking. “And the women?”
“Dead. Thorne is transporting their ashes to a plot of land off the compound as we speak to avoid tarnishing our soil.”
Father gives me a toothless smile. His eyes hold a suspicious gleam to them that I once believed was a sign that he was all knowing.
He isn’t. But he’s smart.
His words from last night sour like milk left in the sun. In some ways… It’s true, he’s like Sawyer.
“You know it’s funny; you mentioned I have a problem with two Keepers, but you’ve only named one.”
I fold my hands on the countertop and hold his gaze, my silence all the answer he needs. Aiden will have to forgive me for what he doesn’t understand. If I could kill my father and save us both, I would do it without blinking.
But killing my father is killing the Shadow Sanctum. I once considered him the heart of my home, but in reality, he’s a virus. You can’t shoot a virus—lest you shoot the host.
You have to be strategic.
His smile widens. “Really, Luna? You?” He laughs like I didn’t betray him. Like I didn’t betray anyone.
Because he doesn’t care. Not about them. Not about our people.
“Aren’t you supposed to be cold-blooded?"
I lift my shoulders in a deep shrug. “I don’t know, Father… Is that what you want me to be?”
Silence seems to weigh on his lips, pushing his smile down.
“Nearly all my life, all I ever aspired to be was you,” I say, keeping emotion from my voice. Because yes, he does want me cold-blooded. It’s what he taught me to be.
“I allowed you to teach me that strength was unyielding and merciless, but recently, I’ve discovered your actions don’t align… You’ve been sparing the baby boys, selling them to new homes instead of allowing mother nature to decide their fate. You’ve been playing god.”
Father’s eyes jump to the entryway as his arms uncross. He glances up at the ceiling where the camera is.
Taking my arm, he yanks me off the stool. “Let’s take a walk.”
He pulls me by the arm all the way outside, only letting go once the cloudy sky casts itself above us. It’s going to storm soon.
We walk off the path toward the forest, Father’s strides long and eager. I wonder if he’d be so anxious if he knew all the Nurturers were aware of his transgressions.
Finally, he spins to face me. “Have you told anyone about this?”
My face hard and blank, I shake my head.
“Has Aiden? Other than you?”
Again, I shake my head. “He told me in confidence when I was overwhelmed with guilt for what I’d done.
” I take a deep breath and force my lips into a frown.
“You were right about bringing women here… It was a mistake that could’ve cost us, and now that I know about the babies, I understand the risks better.
But still, our guests were innocent, and I felt awful about killing them.
Aiden told me about the mercy you grant to the infants, and in a moment of weakness, I decided freeing the women was the right thing to do. I ordered Aiden to carry it out.”
A moment of weakness.
I mean it when I say the words. Every moment I spend with Sawyer Hansley is a moment of weakness.
But for some reason, when they come from my mouth, they feel untrue.
The lines in Father’s face smooth as he exhales, as if relieved I view his actions as mercy instead of the putrid greed they are.
I’m not opposed to sparing infants. I’ve never been opposed. That’s why I’ve never stopped Sawyer from sneaking the little things off to the hospital.
But I’m opposed to selling them.
And I’m not blind to Father’s motives.
Father steps close and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Everyone makes mistakes, Luna… I know I haven’t allowed you many, but…” He sighs. “No one escaped. No harm came to us… If you can forgive me for what I’ve kept from you, I can forgive you for your one transgression.”
“Thank you, Father,” I say, pushing my pitch higher as I lay my hand on his fleece-covered chest.
You should call him Daddy.
My core sucks deep into my body as I close my eyes and let my face twist with regret—real regret. It’s so much easier when I don’t have to fake it.
“I admire you, Father. I wish…” I open my eyes and suck in a breath. “I wish I was as merciful as you… But I beg you, please. Please, Daddy, show that same mercy for Aiden.”
He breaks away from me in an instant, his face turning from soft to hard. I know the answer before he spits it from his mouth.
“No.”
“He was following my orders. This was my fault. Please, let me take the full punishment for a crime that was mine and mine alone. Please.”
His eyes narrow. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to execute you?”
When I don’t answer, he scoffs. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I am a Shadow Sanctum member beholden to the same laws as—”
“You’re my daughter.”
I stand up straighter, my heart quickening. “So was Zephyr… And I killed her.”
“I don’t care,” he says immediately, the revelation either not a revelation or of no importance.
I rear back, snow sloshing beneath my feet. Father’s eyes run over me, taking in my shock before his features soften and he comes toward me with his hands raised, inviting me into an embrace. When I don’t accept the invitation, he takes both my shoulders and frowns inches from my lips. Too close.
I wish Sawyer were here.
I don’t know why I have that thought, but I do.
“You’re my number two,” Father says to me, smoothing my hair back. “You’re the most important person in my life… I need you, my sweet girl.” He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering for a second longer than they should. “I will always show you mercy… But only you.”
He lets go of me but leaves his colony of imaginary ants to run along the back of my neck. “Let this be a lesson for you.”
Father frowns like it pains him to kill my friend who knows all his secrets. And is willing to tell them. He gives me a pat on the shoulder, turns, and starts back toward the Nurturer’s compound to read to the young girls.
Most he will claim are children.
One he will claim as mature beyond her years, and what an honor it must be for her to be seen as such.
I close my eyes, press my fist to my mouth, and scream, the first crackle of thunder joining me.