“What are you doing?” Kaezia asked, leaning over her father.

Arawn didn’t even blink. “Watching the Tree grow.”

Kaezia looked askance at the sky, then looked back down at her father. “There’s nothing there.”

Arawn chuckled. “Spare me from world-weary ten-year-olds. Lay down.” He patted the ground next to him.

Kaezia flopped down with all the grace of a sack of grain. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“You’re not supposed to look at anything. You’re just supposed to look. Just … look.”

“Um…” Kaezia stared at the sky until her eyes burned. Nothing, just as she’d thought. She reached up to rub her eyes, but her father grabbed her hands.

“If they’re burning, you’re almost there. Keep looking.” Arawn released her hands and tucked his own back under his head.

Sighing, Kaezia kept looking. Her eyes began to water, and her nose began to itch, and just when she was really, really sure she couldn’t take it anymore … they cleared.

And the world was made of branches. They arched above her, they twined around her, they wove through her, and they were growing.

And then she blinked, and she lost it. The world was just the world again.

Her father was looking at her, his eyes a serious brown she’d never seen before. “Remember that,” he said.

Kaezia nodded.

Together, father and daughter went back inside and went about their lives. But in later years, whenever the Queen could never be found, the Fool always knew where to find her – out in the meadow, watching the sky.