There was no one to judge what I said. No one but a poodle, who thought everything I said was genius.
“I miss walking the city with you. It’s not the same.”
I took a breath, watched it curl out in steam.
Jester looked at me.
“When I came here, all of us wantedso much. At first, I didn’t know what was genuine, versus what was just another way for someone to get what they wanted. WhatIwanted,” I added, knowing I’d done the same.
“I didn’t trust anyone, except for Poppy and this stupid dog. And maybe I was right about that. At first.” I patted Jester, absently. “I thought… I thought there would be moretime—” I stopped as my voice seized up.
Jester leaped up and began licking my cheeks.
“Get off, dog,” I said, but I was hugging him and he couldn’t have left if he wanted to.
I curled up, holding Jester and nestling tightly into the trunk of the tree. “I’m sorry, Berron. I should have told you—”
Even Jester couldn’t catch all the teardrops before they hit the tree roots.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wishing I could have one more chance. One time to start over. One rewind. Go back to that first day in the shop and do it all differently.
Jester wriggled. I didn’t want to squish the poor guy, so I let him go. He scratched at the tree roots.
“I said, don’t even think about it.”
He ignored me and launched into a full, double-pawed, rapid-fire dig.
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and sat up fully. “Dude. One minute ago, you’re kissing my face. Now you’re ignoring me to dig up a tree? Not cool.” I placed my hand above where he’d been digging.
The wood waswarm.
“What the…”
Jester whined and pawed at the spot again.
I stood up, found a spot where I could balance between the split roots, and pressed both hands against the tree.
Something like gold sap wasracingunder my fingers.
“What is this?” I said.
It felt like springtime. It felt like life. It felt like laughter. It felt golden and…
Royal.
Goosebumps rose on my arms. I leaned harder on the tree and propped my forehead against the bark. My Gentry magic was onfire, and I poured it into the wood like thick pancake batter into a hot frying pan.
Lattices of golden power danced over the trunk. Cascaded over the roots. I lifted my head and looked up—the papery dead leaves were now alive with gold, and dancing in a wind that seemed to be made of magic itself.
Jester barked.
I gripped the tree and pushed harder, my own hands glowing gold and sparkling, too. I looked down, beneath my feet, where the roots plunged below the amethysts.
And then, I saw—
Berron, the Prince of the Gentry.
Asleep, under the roots.
