“Yes, please,” she whispered eagerly.
“Being silly is one of my most favorite things.”
She leaned back a bit and looked at him. “But you aren’t a little boy.”
“One can be quite silly even when one is very grown up.”
She liked that. She liked it very much. “I think I will be silly forever and ever. Even when I’m grown up.”
“That would make me very happy, Princess.”
“Would you be proud of me, Papa?” Her father said that to Persephone sometimes—that he was proud of her.
“Very, very proud,” he said. “And if I mean to be silly forever and ever?”
“I would be very, very proud of you,” she said solemnly.
His eyes danced about as his smile grew. “I would be honored to know you were proud of me.”
She liked talking with him. “We can keep looking.”
They resumed their search. She called him Papa. And he called her Princess. For the first time in her life, she felt truly loved and wanted and important.
He was proud of her. And they were going to be silly together. And he would adore her and teach her about sweetshops and not be upset if she cried. Maybe he would even skip with her.
Papa and Princess. She would never be alone again.
“Ooh. This is the market cross,” she said.
“It is that.” He looked at her. “Do you suspect your family might be here?”
She nodded. Her eyes searched the crowd, much smaller than it had been.
“Tell me if you see them.”
After a moment, she did. “There.” She pointed to Persephone walking through the market. “There. There.”
He nudged her forward. “Catch up quickly, before you lose sight of her.”
Artemis rushed toward Persephone. Persephone would like to meet Papa. He would be kind to her too; she knew he would.
“Artemis.” Persephone whispered her name when she saw her and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Where did you wander off to? We couldn’t find you.”
“I fell, and I hurt my hands and my knees, and then I got lost.”
“Heavens.” Persephone eyed the state of her.
“But the man helped me get back. And he gave me a peppermint. He has a house and horses and children, and he didn’t get mad when I cried, and he told me it’s okay to be silly.”
Persephone looked around. “What man, Artemis?”
She turned back and pointed with his handkerchief to where he was standing—where he’dbeenstanding. Papa wasn’t there.
She looked around, frantic. He’d left. He’d held her and loved her. Then he’d left.
Persephone took her hand and walked with her away from the market cross.
Artemis held her papa’s handkerchief to her heart and looked back over and over, hoping to catch sight of him. She didn’t.
