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I smile at that.

Leaf’s eyes flick to my mouth, and the corner of his curves in return.

“Truce. Plus,” I add, “I’ve decided it’s weird when you are the grumpy one.”

He laughs, and my heart skips a beat at the sound, so familiar and not at the same time. Like I could hear it a million times and never tire of the way his laughter tickles down from the top of my head along my spine.

The guards continue to lead us along a well-traveled path. Eyes blink from the inside of windows burrowed within the massive trunks. Stairs twirl along the base of the trees, spiraling endlessly as they circle upward, only pausing for the occasional doorway, where herbs hang above the threshold.

Tiny glowing insects buzz along, unbothered by the procession of Elves now gathering on either side of the path. Some point openly, while others at least have the courtesy to whisper their impressions of us as we walk past. It must be quite rare for humans to visit the Elven territories to receive such a welcome as this.

The pathway changes from hard packed earth to wooden planks placed horizontally, like the gang plank of a ship—but instead of leading to watery depths of the ocean, it leads upward—into the dark forest sky. I grab the ropes on either side of the plank and ignore the way the wood bounces slightly with each step. We walk higher and higher on the planks until the ground disappears entirely. I gasp.

Leaf stops in front of me, and I slam into his massive form.

“Oh fuck, it’s total darkness up here!”

Leaf unwraps me from where I cling to his torso like a fucking fire monkey.

“Oh.” The tops of my cheek heat.

“Here, you can walk in front. I’ll be right behind you,” he offers and easily maneuvers around me on the plank, surefooted.

Show off.

Without Leaf blocking my view with his big head, my mind warps, trying to understand what I’m seeing. Hundreds of plank walkways float and intersect at various points, sometimes just a crossing, but others have entire pergolas complete with restaurants where Elves are already congregating for breakfast. Occasionally, the planks are intersected with more trees, somehow larger than the last. Up here, the spiraling staircases are lined with bright mosaic tiles and finely whittled patterns.

The higher we go, the richer the homes, restaurants, and establishments, it appears. I’ve lost track of how many steps we’ve taken at this point, but we must be somewhere near the top of the canopies by the way the sunlight spears through like daggers of light.

My breath catches once more.

All of the planks lead to an impossibly massive tree, branches twisting to create an ornate arch, draped in glowing flora and carved. The planks widen to an arching bridge lined with guards—no, roc riders—stationed on either side, posture taut, eyes watching, bows strapped to their backs.

I reach my arm back before I can think, and Leaf’s hand links with my own.

The air stirs with the distinct sound of wingbeats, and I know that the rocs that belong to the riders must be near.

There, in the arched doorway of what can only be described as a palace carved into the side of a tree, Lord Clayoq awaits.

The two guards that escorted us here split to either side so that Leaf and I are in plain view of the ancient Forest Lord.

Leaf squeezes my hand.

I squeeze his back.

The guard to our right clears his throat somewhat hesitantly. “The Prince of the Forest returns.”

Lord Clayoq opens his arms wide. The sleeves of his robe are so long they drag along the floor. “Leaf, my son, welcome home.”

28

Palace of Truth

Ramona rounds on me, ripping her hand away, and suddenly, I’m lost at sea with no tether. Her mouth falls open into a perfect circle, and yet no words come out.

That’s not good. Not good at all.

My father’s face is smug as ever as he stands there before us, welcoming us into his home.