“I think I know,” Lorzok said. “Jubilee is right. One moment.”
Lorzok raised his hands, crushing three pearly seeds against a rough brown stone. “There.”
Silvery light fell from an orb the same glowing silver as the moon beyond the oak tree. Saeldian sidestepped out of the way. AMoonbeam spell’s light hurt when it touched a foe, and they didn’t want to take chances. Lorzok hummed as it moved over the bluebells, and fireflies darted away to show off somewhere else.
The gate changed. Saeldian watched the drawing swell and become real wood. The stone behind it fell away. The apples grew from the size of a thumbnail to a walnut, from leaf green to bright green, then blushing on their cheeks. The air was sweet with ripening fruits, the blush spreading and filling to pink, to red, to deep claret…
“Don’t touch them,” Saeldian said. “Don’t pick them. Let me.”
The cool, silvery light burned as they pulled the apple-tree gate open, guarding their party from the honey-sweet, delicious, certainly perfect apples.
“Step through three paces and stop,” Saeldian said. “Hold hands. Don’t get separated.”
Lorzok hung back when Jubilee waited for him to follow Kell. Instead, Lorzok took Jubilee’s hand and let her catch Kell’s hand in hers. Lorzok held his other one out for Saeldian as he passed. Saeldian held the gate and closed it gently as they passed, one, two, three steps, and only then looked back.
No gate. No apples. No wall. Only a single firefly, flashing and confused, looking for the way back to Waterdeep.
Chapter Nine
The Impatient Made Small Under Moonlight
Where Making Friends Is the Best Policy
They were in the Feywild. It sang in the ground under Saeldian’s feet, whispered secrets into their unbound curls, rested gentle and wild on their vision. Not night, not morning; the light was the eternal moment before dusk fell to night or dawn rose to day.
Saeldian had always thought of the Feywild as a forest. In some ways, it was, and an oddly perfect one at that. Soft moss studded with blue-violet flowers, vines curled around tree trunks big as houses. The softly lit air sang as if it were made for nightingales.
Was that tree an oak? Saeldian squinted to get a better look, and it became one as they watched, filling in the details that made it change from a bare trunk into a massive crown of leaves spread as far as they would go—standing away from the other trees, as a ruler should keep their distance from their subjects.
But it hadn’t been an oak until Saeldian wondered if it was. “Did you see that?”
No one answered.
Jubilee turned in a slow circle, as amazed as Verity was at one of Saeldian’s little illusion tricks. Her smile widened, and she letout a cheer and spun until she landed in the soft litter of leaves and moss.
Lorzok turned more slowly, a huge smile also on his face, and said, “Hello.”
The birdsong rose in response, chirps and trills fighting over who would be heard first. A caramel-dappled rabbit poked its head out of a bush, wiggling its nose, a single spiral horn sprouting from its forehead.
Lorzok crouched and bowed his head, listening to the rabbit’s chitters with rapt attention. “Indeed,” he replied. “We’ve only just arrived.”
The rabbit burst into a run, dashing up to Lorzok. After accepting a scratch on its floppy ears, it ran to Jubilee and leapt into the air, twisting to land with its back to her, clearly asking for more pets. Jubilee was mindful of its horn as she petted down its back.
It ran around in circles at Saeldian’s feet, then stopped and perched on its hind feet, head cocked toward Kell.
Kell stared at the oak that Saeldian wondered at, then turned to gaze at everything else, as if he were committing this place to memory. He stood like he might have to run, or fight to keep his hold on this place, and he looked oddly blank. Like he didn’t know what to think, or didn’t dare believe it was real.
The rabbit hopped to him and rose up, putting its front feet on Kell’s leg and breaking the spell of his daze. Kell crouched to meet it.
“Hello.”
The unicorn-horned rabbit hopped straight into his lap, stretching to put its paws on Kell’s shoulder.
A hug. Saeldian’s chest ached.
Kell hugged the almiraj like he was afraid to break it. Boosted up, the rabbit laid its chin on Kell’s shoulder, and Kell let go of the tense mistrust.
The ache in Saeldian’s chest went dull. Urchins told stories about how they had been important before they landed on fatherless streets. How they were, actually, secretly special, and someone was looking for them to take them to the childhood where they belonged.
