“Then you must try it. And as we walk, you must tell me of all your adventures in the city of New York.”
They strolled away through the apple grove, the Princess of Arrows’s golden dress trailing behind her.
“That went quite well,” Poppy said.
“What, did you think my mom would freak out or something?”
“No.” She took a long pull from her mug. “Yes.” She eyed Berron speculatively. “Speaking of titles, what’syourtitle?”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Princess of Arrows,” Poppy said, gesturing toward where my mother and the Princess had wandered off. “Prince of…?”
“I’m afraid it’s just ‘Prince of the Gentry.’ Although I do have a tree.”
“A tree?” I said.
“The Prince’s Tree.”
Poppy and I traded looks. “Care to elaborate?” I said.
“It’s in a valley not far from here. It’s an unusual tree, with a split trunk—almost like it has two legs—and a sort of a nook where you can sit against the trunk and think. I spent so much time sitting there that everyone started calling it… well, you know.” He smiled.
I had to admit, it soundedexactlylike Berron to have his very own royal tree.
“Oh, look, there’s your mum!” Poppy said. “Yoo-hoo! Over here!”
My mother appeared to have completely changed her clothes. Her sensible fall outfit had been replaced by billowing bronze-colored robes that fluttered and sparkled with tiny gems. She held an enormous goblet and alternated sipping with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other as she and the Princess of Arrows approached.
“Zelda!” my mom cried. “Have you tried this”—she leaned toward the Princess of Arrows and placed a familiar hand on her arm— “I do declare, I cannot remember the name. Bumble-berry?”
“Sapphire-berry,” the Princess of Arrows said.
“Sapphire-berry!” my mother repeated, triumphantly, releasing Berron’s sister’s arm with a friendly pat. “Have you tried it?” she asked me again.
“No…” Her eyes certainly were sparkly. Was it the clear, almost prismatic light of the Forest of Emeralds?
She swayed gently, causing her robe to ripple like slow-breaking waves on Sparkle Beach.
Ah.
My mother was ever-so-slightly tipsy.
I shot Berron a look.
“Don’t look at me,” he said.
The Princess of Arrows beamed goodwill like sunshine. “It is considered most hospitable to offer guests a relaxing refreshment upon their arrival. Sapphire-berry is the traditional drink of welcome.”
My mother took another sip and smacked her lips.
“I see,” I said. “Berron didn’t offer us any when we first got here.”
“What, like I needed a drunk Daniel tearing up my room?”
“Drunk?” Mom said, straightening up with all the dignity of a tiny Southern woman. “No one’sdrunk. I am merely”—she hiccupped—“relaxed.”
I held my hand out for the cup, intending to try it but also to get it away from her, since we had fire magic to try out and I didn’t want to be flamed like a creme brulee. “May I?”
