Corwenna looked around. “I have not left what you Dendrans call the Ravenwood for many years. A week ago, I could not have made the journey, but my strength is returning. I think, thanks to you, this country beyond my nest feels different, less polluted with traitors’ thoughts.” She stared at the reflection of trees and sky in the water, then studied each of them in turn. “How are you all?” She sat cross-legged on the wood, her black petticoats spread out around her, making their own pool of feathers.

Ark spoke up. “The King’s been pretty good, especially now that he’s seen how the other half lives and the rot that lay at the heart of Arborium. My dad …” He paused. Mr. Malikum had looked after him since he was little. It was right to call him that. “My dad has got some decent medicine for the first time. Quercus offered us an apartment near the court in the upper canopy, but I like the smell of my home for now. It’s good to be with my family again.”

His mother had been overwhelmed with pride when she found out his role in saving Arborium. He couldn’t bear to tell her the truth about his origins, though he suspected she guessed more than she was letting on.

When the tale was done, instead of treating him like a hero, Mrs. Malikum had brought him down to the wood with a bump. She’d slapped his face so hard the whole house shook, and shouted at him to never put himself in such danger again. Ark found himself smiling at the memory.

“So, how did you know about the apples?” he asked Corwenna. “Was it luck that Petronio stabbed me where he did?”

“Luck or the gift of the wood!”

They all fell silent for a second, listening to the soft hiss of autumn leaves.

“And now a question for my brave young warrior. Did the arrows really listen to you?”

“I couldn’t believe it!” said Ark proudly.

“Nor could I foresee such ingenuity! I said to you once that the trees hold deeper mysteries that science can only guess at.”

But Ark had stopped listening, remembering the one arrow that got away, that killed his friend’s father. If only he could have stopped it. Flo had said several times that she didn’t blame him. It didn’t make it any easier. He changed the subject. “And that phial you gave me.” Ark remembered the look on his tormentor’s face as his arm turned to cold, dead wood. “Goodwoody warned me about murder, but Petronio had gone too far.”

“Though I have never met your Warden, she is right. But so were you when you grabbed that boy of shadows by his hand and held on tight! He deserved all that the trees could offer!”