“Even the Plague?” Phae asked.

“Especially that. The waters are restorative as well. This is ancient magic, Phae. I don’t understand it.”

“If the leaves cure the Plague, why hasn’t the Seneschal stopped it from ravaging the world?”

As if in response to his title being spoken, Phae saw the Seneschal appear from behind a stone column, near the tree. He spoke to another man, his head bent low and giving instructions. The man bowed, nodded, and then greeted them as they passed over the bridge. He was a handsome man, full of youth, and he wore a Druidecht talisman around his neck.

After crossing the bridge, Neodesha escorted Phae to the Seneschal and did a small reverence to him. “I have done as you asked, Seneschal. I took Phae to the bathing pools and presented her with a Dryad robe. She has been instructed in its magic and now I have brought her to the tree as you bid me to.”

“Thank you, Neodesha,” the Seneschal said warmly. “That is all.”

Neodesha hugged Phae one last time and then retreated back across the bridge again.

“There are many fruits growing on this tree, Arsinowe,” the Seneschal said. “But above all others, there is one that mortals desire. All of the fruit on the tree are sweet, save one. There is one that is bitter, yet it holds the most power.” He reached up to the branch and plucked a white fruit. It looked like a pear, except the skin was soft like a peach. Phae saw that the underside was white, but the top half was golden. It was small, easily fitting inside her palm as the Seneschal bestowed it.

“Why is it bitter?” Phae asked, gazing up at him.

He smiled wanly. “Many fruits surprise us with tartness or sweetness. I am certain you will come to understand the answer after you have been among us a while longer.”

She stared at it. “So if I eat this, I will never die?”

He shook his head. “No, Arsinowe. If you eat it, your body will change. You will no longer age. You cannot be injured or harmed by magic. You will not experience physical pain, but you can suffer grief and sorrow. There is a poison, however, which can slay even an Unwearying One. There is also another kind of fruit, from another tree, which will make you mortal again if you eat it.”

Phae experienced a tremor . . . a premonition. “The blade Iddawc?”

The Seneschal nodded. “Iddawc is not a blade. It is a spirit creature. Its true shape is that of a serpent. It’s quite small.” He motioned to the tree, where she saw several serpents—tiny ones—slinking in the branches. She had not noticed them until he gestured. “Some serpents live in trees, Arsinowe. Iddawc was once a guardian of this one. It was disobedient, and so it was sent to the mortal world.”

Phae swallowed, staring at the fruit cupped in her hand. “Will you tell me why?”

“I will answer your questions. But first you must fulfill your Dryad oath. You have been bound to the tree you entered Mirrowen from. When you have tasted of the fruit, you will be allowed to experience the memories you came here for. Only a true Dryad can access her tree’s memories.”

She stared at the fruit, feeling its weight. She realized she was at a moment that would alter her forever. There was a twinge of fear inside her stomach. What if the Seneschal was deceiving her? What if the fruit in her hand was poisonous?

“Guard your thoughts,” the Seneschal said firmly. “Have you let your fears plague you thus far? Conquer them. You must decide and then act—come what may.”

Phae took a deep breath and then sank her teeth into the flesh of the small golden fruit.

It was sugary sweet at first, surprising her. The flavor was unlike anything she had experienced, but it was gentle on her tongue and quite interesting. As she chewed, she began to taste a hint of bitterness in the peel. Her nose crinkled at the taste, but it was not disgusting. She bit into the fruit again, finding the same sensations repeated. As she swallowed, she felt the bitterness in her mouth grow, and she felt a slight queasiness begin to swell. Then it was gone.

Her arms and legs began to tingle. She examined herself, seeing no marks on her skin. She felt flushed, alive, full of energy. Every memory of fatigue or weariness vanished from her thoughts. She believed she could run, even across a mountain, and never tire.

So this is what it feels like to be Shion, she thought with wonder. There was no longer any memory of hunger or thirst either. The fruit was inside of her, feeding her with energy. It was limitless. She recognized that she could eat or drink, that those actions were still possible. But she knew that she would not need to any longer.

“Shion ate this fruit,” Phae said, turning in amazement to the Seneschal. “How did he lose his memories? You promised you would tell me these things. Can I truly know them? Must I go back to the tree and harvest his memories there?” She swallowed, feeling confusion and uncertainty collide inside her. “What is the right thing to do? Will I still be allowed to help my father? You know his purpose. Can I aid him?”