Tyrus sighed deeply, longing for that reunion, but knowing there was still a purpose he needed to accomplish first. “I have a question for you.”
“Of course.” She linked her arm with his and they started to stroll through the glen. She was not wearing the robes he had seen other Dryads with—her attire was better situated to a girl from Stonehollow, the girl she had grown up as. A homestead girl. She was beautiful and radiant, and he flushed with pride at seeing her inner strength, her wisdom, her compassion.
“I’m proud of you, Phae,” he said, surprising himself. “I’m so very proud of you.”
She caressed his hand. “It wasn’t really either of us who deserves the credit. We both know that. Every person did their part, just as you knew they would. You will honor the memories of Khiara and Prince Aransetis?”
“Yes,” Tyrus said. “The manor house in Silvandom is a shrine to their memory. The Vaettir pay their respects and give them honor in their way. And Erasmus will be remembered in Havenrook. We must remember those who gave their lives.”
“I’m pleased. Why did you come? What do you wish to know?”
“The Seneschal made me the custodian of Shirikant’s book. It is a heavy burden, Phae. I don’t trust anyone else to even look at it. But I know, child, that someday, long after I’m gone, someone else will seek out its secrets. Someone with the fireblood, most likely. Ambition has uses, for certain, but my mind is heavy with the possibility. I would seek counsel from you. Should I hide it where no one can find it? It will always be a temptation if I leave it with the rest of the Archives. Some knowledge should be hidden permanently.”
Phae listened to his words thoughtfully. They continued the pleasant stroll, wandering the grounds around the tree. The roots of her tree were vast, giving her a wide room to walk and be free.
“You cannot prevent evil from occurring,” she said, looking at him pointedly. “Nor should you. The Seneschal described its cycle like that of the seasons. We are in the season of spring, when good has triumphed and evil is forced to slumber. The cycle will come again, long after you have relinquished your duty to others. It will be their turn, Father. It will be their duty to stand up to that evil. As you did.”
He sighed deeply, disturbed by her answer, yet it felt true. “You will outlive me,” he said, feeling the absurdity that she would live for another thousand years. She would see the next cycles come and go. Perhaps she already had. It defied his understanding how she existed in a different manner of time than he did. “If there was a way to prevent the book from being used, could you tell me?”
Phae smiled. “No, Father. The events that occur in the mortal world are caused by the decisions of mortals. You cannot see all things from the beginning, as the Seneschal can. You must make your choices as you deem wise. It is never improper to seek counsel from those wiser than yourself. But you must accept the counsel given, knowing that suffering often accompanies choices. And sometimes that suffering is what we need the most to make us stronger. Try not to predict the future.” She paused, stopping, her head cocking. “Let’s go back to my tree.”
They continued to walk arm in arm until they reached the ancient oak once again. Standing at the base was Shion. He stood tall and at ease, his clothes no longer the garb of the Kishion. A single tarnished key was fastened to a hoop on his belt.
“Hello,” Tyrus bid him, bowing his head deferentially.
“Greetings, Tyrus,” Shion said, his voice rich and full. Tyrus had heard him sing and had wept with the power of his ability. Then he noticed the woman in his shadow and his heart leapt with amazement. It was Tyrus’s wife, the Dryad from the Paracelsus Towers. It was she!
Phae smiled cheerfully. “Hello, Mother. Are you ready?” She leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. “She’s going to care for my tree for a little while. Shion and I have a journey to make together with the Tay al-Ard. Would you keep her company while we are gone?”
Tyrus stared at his wife, felt tears sting his eyes. She smiled at him with unspoken love, her eyes burning. Phae broke away and hugged her mother, kissing her on the cheek. Then she looked at Shion adoringly, their faces still expressive of their tenderness with each other. Their hands snaked together.
“I will,” Tyrus said and then watched as the magic of the Tay al-Ard made them vanish.
The magic unsettled Phae only a little. She did not know where Shion was taking her, only that he had said he wanted her to accompany him on a journey. As soon as the magic ended, she blinked with surprise and then felt her heart throb with warmth. She saw trellises and green vines thick with purple fruit, the slope of a roof that covered a high attic where little children slept. A barn stood to the side in the dusky light. It was the Winemiller vineyard!