But they were already walking away, leaving me with yet another cryptic gift.
“I hate when they do that,” Peeble grumbled. “Cryptic gifts are only mysterious the first three times. After that, it’s just annoying.”
“Elle!” Kaelren barked. “Stop staring at nothing. We leave in five minutes.”
“I’m staring at a mysterious vial, not nothing!” I called back, but he’d already turned away.
“He’s extra grumpy this morning,” Peeble observed. “More than usual, I mean. Which is impressive given his baseline grumpiness.”
Five minutes to pack what little I had. Five minutes before runninginto unknown danger. I tucked the vial away carefully, grabbed my few belongings, and tried not to think about how every step took me further from any hope of normal.
“You know normal was boring anyway,” Peeble said, apparently reading my thoughts. “You complained about it constantly.”
“I complained about my ex and my job. Not about, you know, basic safety and not being hunted by magical soldiers.”
“Details. You’re much more interesting now. Probably going to die more interestingly, too.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“I’m a beetle. Comfort isn’t in my skill set. Brutal honesty and excellent one-liners, that’s what I bring to the table.”
Not that normal had ever really been an option. The marks pulsed with something like agreement, and I let them. Whatever came next, at least it would be interesting.
Probably fatal, but definitely interesting.
“That’s the spirit!” Peeble said cheerfully. “Embrace the inevitable doom with style.”
“Ready?” Bryx asked, Kevin buzzing anxiously around his head.
“Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always—”
“A choice, I know. Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true,” Vashael said, passing with her portable garden. “You could choose to give up. Let the transformation take you. Become the Root completely.”
“Tempting, but I’m attached to having thoughts that are my own.”
“Are they?” She tilted her head. “How can you tell which thoughts are yours and which are the Root’s anymore?”
“She’s got a point,” Peeble whispered. “You’ve been talking to trees. That’s not normal human behavior.”
“Neither is having a talking beetle as a best friend, but here we are.”
“Fair.”
I didn’t have an answer for Vashael. The truth was, I couldn’t tell anymore.The boundaries were blurring, and maybe that was the point.
“Mount up,” Kaelren commanded. “We fly low, stay under cover.”
I climbed onto the bee behind him, Peeble scrambling to adjust position on my shoulder. “I hate flying on these things. Too much wind. My antennae get all tangled.”
“You can walk if you prefer.”
“And miss all the action? Please. I have front-row seats to your doom. I’m not giving that up for comfort.”
I tried to ignore the way my body automatically adjusted to Kaelren’s, finding the familiar position. Through the space where our bond would be—if either of us acknowledged it—I felt his tension. He was expecting an attack.
