Valtor must think I'm naive as I sit in bed, watching him make a show of packing a suitcase. "You can do all this with magic. Why the theatrics?" I ask, not hiding my exasperation. He pauses, head tilted in contemplation.
"And if you're going to keep transforming into a tree, could it at least happen when I'm around?" I add, sadness creeping into my voice. Valtor smiles, abandoning the suitcase to sit beside me on the bed.
"Do you remember when I asked your grandfather if you were an elf?" he says, and I nod.
"That’s the reason for this charade. Elf women understand this transformation in their men; it’s neither sad nor devastating for them. But you, Leia, you're only thinking about yourself. I am tired and long for my eternal rest in the soul forest of Alfheim," he says earnestly, his
