“Do you want to stay? I mean, your mom and dad will be here,” Fletcher carefully asked, taking Sam’s hand as they stood in the crow’s nest of Alaria’s city house, a house rarely used after she had disappeared into the Resistance. The forest the river had divided spread out before them, a quilt of different greens and browns and dark reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. He pointed out the river to Sam, a wide blue-grey ribbon and the multicolored sails, like butterflies skimming the water. The Queen had demanded white sails, the fashion when the King fell asleep. No more. He had already told Sam what had happened on the river.
Sam squeezed Fletcher’s hand. “They want me to stay. Someday, maybe. I mean, this realm is even more beautiful than the human writers in your books could describe. T
