Peeble settled into their usual spot on my shoulder, quieter than usual. “You know this is probably going to change you even more, right? The Bloom. It’s not gentle about transformations.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“And you’re doing it anyway?”
“We don’t really have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. Just sometimes all the choices are terrible.” They were silent for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll still be you. Maybe different, but still you. You’re stubborn that way.”
“Thanks, Peeble.”
“Don’t mention it. Someone has to be optimistic, and it’s clearly not going to be Mr. Death-walker up there.” He gestured at Kaelren’s back with one leg.
“The trees really don’t like the Crown,” I told Kaelren.
“The trees don’t like anyone,” he replied.
“They tolerate you. Although Gerald thinks you need therapy.”
“Gerald can mind his own roots.”
“Gerald’s roots extend for about an acre, so technically everything in that acre is his business.”
“Gerald sounds nosy,” Peeble added. “But in a caring way. Like a nosy grandmother who’s worried about you.”
“Stop talking to trees and focus on not falling off.”
But I could feel something in him through the space where our bond existed—not amusement exactly, but… interest. Like my tree-talking was another piece of a puzzle he was trying to solve.
The Root pulled at me as we flew, ancient and patient and deeply, cosmically amused by everything happening.
Come, it seemed to say. Let’s see what you really are.
“Probably something weird,” I muttered.
“Definitely something weird,” Peeble corrected. “The question is what kind of weird.”
“What?” Kaelren asked.
“Nothing. Just agreeing with the potentially sentient forest about my life choices.”
“And discussing the various types of weird,” Peeble added helpfully.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Has anything about me ever been reassuring?”
“Or me?” Peeble chimed in. “I feel like I’m consistently unreassuring.”
“No,” Kaelren said, and for the first time, I thought I heard something that might have been the ghost of amusement in his voice. “Neither of you have ever been reassuring.”
“Progress,” Peeble whispered to me. “Weird, tree-talking, about-to-transform-completely progress, but progress nonetheless.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
10
Elle
