Page 83 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
“Can I help you with anything else?” York asks, hoisting the basket.
“No, thank you,” I say, and he silently disappears.
“That was easy,” Justice says. “But, like, is it risky for us not to be eating with everyone else? Does that make it easier for them to poison us?”
“It would do the Fire Realm no good to poison me. That would be a political nightmare, killing a royal in their castle.More importantly, they want our land. Getting rid of me won’t help them get that.”
“Perhaps.”
“I might sound more confident than I feel,” I admit. “I guess the bottom line is, on some level, we have to trust our enemies to act in a manner that will further their goals. When those goals align with ours, I still keep vigilant, but I usually can sleep at night.”
“That sounds more like it.”
Thirty minutes later, dinner is brought in on a rolling cart, the dishes covered with black domes. Justice and I eat roasted vegetables and hot grains and drink good wine, and I’m grateful to see that the staff took care of Hazel and Martin as well.
Our clean clothes are returned, and I curl up next to Justice under warm sheets as we trace each other’s bodies, kissing each other everywhere.
Being so close to him, I experience more joy than I’ve ever felt.
I want to be near him always.
We sleep until late the following morning, tired from walking for days. Justice powers up his phone and finds a text message waiting. It’s Layla, asking him how he’s doing and when he’s coming back to the café.
He grimaces. “She’s been so generous, letting me join you on this quest. I think I’ve taken enough of my time off. I need to head back to work soon.”
“Then we will go.”
Our clothes are clean, we’re showered and shaved, and we enjoy a breakfast of oatmeal and berries.
We say goodbye to Princess Eleanor and Prince Eckhart and thank them for their hospitality. It’s strange. I don’t like or trust either of them, but in a way I’m grateful to them—or to Eleanor, at least, and her wedding shenanigans—for helping me to get together with Justice.
He and I head down Mount Pátu with Hazel and Martin. In many ways, the travel is easier than before. I can talk with the animals and get regular updates on everything, and I have Justice in my arms every night. However, when we get back to the comforting shade of the Northwest Forest canopy, the facts of what I have and haven’t achieved hit me in the gut. Yes, we found Princess Eleanor, but she doesn’t want to marry me.
“How are we going to establish peace among the realms?” I ask, feeling a headache coming on. “Or keep the fae from taking over? This will lead to disaster.”
“Why? Are you going to declare war?” Justice asks.
My chest is somehow both hollow and heavy. “No, of course not. But our enemies cannot keep their greedy hands off the forest.”
“I want to protect your territory as much as you do, and I don’t want to see anyone suffer. But as I mentioned when we were talking with Eleanor, I remember something I learned in an ecology class: a forest provides fuel for fires, and fires provide a fresh seed bed for new plants. Both are needed. Fires are destructive, but they’re also beneficial—at least when they don’t get too big. Why do you need to fight, if forest and fire can exist in harmony?”
I sigh. “That’s the thing: The realms always get out of balance. Either the fires are too big, or the forest is too dense. Something happens such that things are not okay. And volcaniceruptions have the potential to cause enormous devastation that takes decades or longer to heal.”
“I can see that. Still, something in me says that volcanoes are part of nature, so there must be a solution. Maybe you can negotiate a treaty that says when things get out of balance, you’ll address the issue together rather than destroying each other.”
“I wish that were possible.”
He nods. “Well, maybe this isn’t a problem we can resolve in an afternoon.”
Justice and I make good time, and without the detour to Icedonia, it takes us only three days to get back to Princedelphia, dining with the wood nymphs. We probably could have done it in two days, but Justice insists on stopping to talk to every animal we meet. I indulge him, of course, because his enthusiasm is adorable. And we’re still looking for Mats, so any scrap of information might turn out to be useful.
Princedelphia feels a million miles away from where we’ve been. Instead of trees and rivers—or the wastes of the Fire Realm or the snow of Icedonia—there are cars and pastel houses.
At the door to Justice’s apartment, I kiss him. “I have to go,” I whisper against his lips, relishing the scrape of his few days’ scruff.
“Are you going to come back and visit me? Or can I come to see you?”
“Yes to both. If you need me, just send a blue jay with a message.”
