APRILYNNE PIKE

Wild

To Gwendolyn, who was with me for every minute of revisions. Every. Minute.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Also by Aprilynne Pike

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The halls of Del Norte High buzzed with first-day-of-school chaos as Laurel wedged herself through a crowd of sophomores and spotted David’s broad shoulders. She twined her arms round his waist and pressed her face against his soft T-shirt.

“Hey,” David said, returning her embrace. Laurel had just closed her eyes, prepared to savour the moment, when Chelsea caught them both in an exuberant squeeze.

“Can you believe it? We’re finally seniors!”

Laurel laughed as Chelsea let them go. Coming from her, the question wasn’t exactly rhetorical; there had been times when Laurel had doubted they’d make it through junior year alive.

As David turned to his locker, Chelsea produced Mrs Cain’s summer reading list from her backpack. Laurel suppressed a smile; Chelsea had been fretting over the optional books all summer. Probably longer.

“I’m starting to think everyone read Pride and Prejudice,” she said, tilting the paper towards Laurel. “I knew I should have gone with Persuasion.”

“I didn’t read Pride and Prejudice,” Laurel countered.

“Yeah, well, you were a little busy reading Common Uses of Ferns or something like that.” Chelsea leaned in so she could whisper. “Or, Seven Habits of Highly Effective Mixers,” she added with a snort of laughter.

“How to Win Fronds and Influence Poplars,” David suggested, raising his eyebrows. He straightened abruptly, his smile widening and his voice getting just a touch louder. “Hey, Ryan,” he said, extending a fist.

Ryan bumped him and turned to run his hands down Chelsea’s arms. “How’s the hottest senior at Del Norte?” he asked, making Chelsea giggle as she went on to her toes for a kiss.

Sighing contentedly, Laurel reached out for David’s hand and leaned against him. She’d been back from the Academy in Avalon for only a week, and she’d missed her friends – more even than last year, though her instructor, Yeardley, had usually kept her too busy to dwell on that. She’d mastered several potions and was closing in on more. The mixings were coming more naturally too; she was getting a feel for different herbs and essences and how they should work together. Certainly not enough to strike out on her own like her friend Katya, who was researching new potions, but Laurel took pride in her progress.

Still, it was a relief to be back in Crescent City, where everything was normal and she didn’t feel so lonely. She smiled up at David as he swung his locker shut and pulled her close. It seemed monumentally unfair that she and David had only one class together this year, and despite having spent the past week with him, Laurel found herself clinging to these last few minutes before the bell rang.

She almost didn’t notice the strange tingle that made her want to turn and look behind her.

Was she being watched?

More curious than afraid, Laurel disguised the glance over her shoulder as a toss of her long blonde hair. But her watcher was immediately apparent, and Laurel’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked with a pair of pale green eyes.

Those eyes weren’t supposed to be light green. They were supposed to be the rich, emerald green that once matched his hair – hair that was now a uniform black, cut short and gelled into a deceptively casual mop. Instead of a hand-woven tunic and breeches, he was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that, no matter how good they looked on him, had to be terribly stifling.

And he was wearing shoes. She’d hardly ever seen Tamani wearing shoes.

But light or dark, she knew his eyes – eyes that featured prominently in her dreams, as familiar to her as her own, or her parents’. Or David’s.

As soon as their eyes locked, the months since she’d last seen Tamani shrank from an eternity to an instant. Last winter, in a moment of anger, she’d told him to go away, and he had. She hadn’t known where, or for how long, or if she’d ever see him again. After nearly a year she had almost gotten used to the ache she felt in her chest every time she thought about him. But suddenly he was here, almost close enough to touch.

Laurel looked up at David, but he wasn’t looking at her. He, too, had noticed Tamani.

“Wow,” Chelsea said from behind Laurel’s shoulder, breaking her reverie. “Who’s the hot new guy?” Her boyfriend, Ryan, scoffed. “Well, he is; I’m not blind,” Chelsea added matter-of-factly.

Laurel still couldn’t speak as Tamani’s gaze flitted from her to David and back again. A million thoughts spun through her head. Why is he here? Why is he dressed like that? Why didn’t he tell me he was coming? She hardly felt David pry her hands from his shirt, lacing his warm fingers through her own, which were suddenly cold as ice.

“Foreign exchange, I bet,” Ryan said. “Look at Mr Robison parading them all around.”

“Maybe,” Chelsea said noncommittally.

Mr Robison said something to the three students who were following him through the hallway, and Tamani’s head swung so that even his profile was no longer visible. As if released from a spell, Laurel dropped her gaze to the floor.

David squeezed her hand and she looked up at him. “Is that who I think it is?”

Laurel nodded, unable to find her voice; though David and Tamani had met only twice before, both events had been. . . memorable. When David looked back towards Tamani, so did Laurel.

The other boy in the group looked embarrassed, and the girl was explaining something to him in a language that was clearly not English. Mr Robison nodded approvingly.

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “See? Told you. Foreign exchange.”

Tamani was shifting the weight of a black backpack from shoulder to shoulder, looking bored. Looking human. That by itself was almost as jarring as his being here in the first place. And then he was looking at her again, less openly now, his glance veiled beneath dark eyelashes.

Laurel fought to breathe evenly. She didn’t know what to think. Avalon wouldn’t send him here without reason, and Laurel couldn’t imagine Tamani abandoning his post.

“You OK?” Chelsea asked, stepping up beside Laurel. “You look kinda freaked.”

Before she could stop herself, Laurel flicked her eyes in Tamani’s direction – a move Chelsea tracked instantly. “It’s Tamani,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as relieved – or terrified – as she felt.

She must have succeeded, because Chelsea only stared in disbelief. “The hot one?” she whispered.

Laurel nodded.

“Seriously?” Chelsea squealed, only to be cut off by a sharp gesture from Laurel. Laurel glanced covertly over at Tamani to see if she’d been caught. The tick of a smile at one corner of his mouth told her she had.

Then the foreign exchange students were following Mr Robison down the hallway, away from Laurel. Just before Tamani disappeared round the corner, he looked back at Laurel and winked. Not for the first time, she was supremely grateful she couldn’t blush.

She turned to David. He was staring down at her, his eyes full of questions.

Laurel sighed and held her hands up in front of her. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“It’s a good thing, right?” David said after they’d managed to detangle themselves from Chelsea and Ryan and stood together in front of Laurel’s first class. Laurel couldn’t remember the last time the one-minute warning bell had made her feel so anxious. “I mean, you thought you were never going to see him again, and now he’s here.”

“It is good to see him,” Laurel said softly, leaning forward to wrap both arms round David’s waist, “but I’m also scared of what it means. For us. Not us,” Laurel corrected, fighting the unfamiliar awkwardness that seemed to be worming its way between them. “But it has to mean we’re in danger, right?”

David nodded. “I’m trying not to think about that. He’ll tell us eventually, right?”

Laurel looked up with one eyebrow cocked and after a moment they both burst out laughing.

“I guess we can’t count on it, can we?” David took her right hand in his, pressing it to his lips and examining the silver-and-crystal bracelet he had given her almost two years ago, when they first got together. “I’m glad you still wear this.”

“Every day,” Laurel said. Wishing they had more time to talk, she pulled David close for one last kiss before hurrying into her Government class and grabbing the last seat next to the wall full of windows. Small windows, but she would take whatever natural sunlight she could get.

Her mind wandered as Mrs Harms handed out the syllabus and talked about class requirements; it was easy to tune her out, especially in light of Tamani’s sudden reappearance. Why was he here? If she was in some kind of danger, what could it be? She hadn’t seen a single troll since leaving Barnes at the lighthouse. Could this have something to do with Klea, the mysterious troll hunter who killed him? No one had seen her lately, either; as far as Laurel could tell, Klea had moved on to other hunting grounds. Maybe this was some other crisis entirely?

Regardless, David was right – Laurel was happy to see Tamani. More than happy. She felt somehow comforted by his presence. And he had winked at her! As if the last eight months had never happened. As if he had never walked away. As if she had never come to tell him goodbye. Her thoughts drifted to the brief moments spent in his arms, the soft feel of his lips on hers in those few times when self-control had slipped through her fingers. The memories were so vivid that Laurel found herself lightly touching her lips.

The classroom door swung open suddenly, startling Laurel from her thoughts. Mr Robison entered, Tamani following close behind.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mr Robison said. “Boys and girls?” Laurel hated how adults could combine two perfectly serviceable words into such a condescending phrase. “You might have heard that we have some foreign exchange students from Japan this year. Tam –” Laurel blanched at the counsellor’s use of her pet name for Tamani – “isn’t technically in the foreign exchange programme, but he just moved here from Scotland. I hope you will treat him with the same courtesy you have always shown our other exchange guests. Tam? Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself.”

Mr Robison clapped one hand against Tamani’s shoulder. Tamani’s eyes darted briefly to the school counsellor and Laurel could only imagine how Tamani would have preferred to respond. But irritation showed on his face for less than a second, and Laurel doubted anyone else noticed. He grinned lopsidedly and shrugged. “I’m Tam Collins.”

Half the girls in the class sighed softly at Tamani’s lilting brogue.

“I’m from Scotland. A little outside of Perth – not the Australia one – and. . .” He paused, as if searching for anything else about himself that the students might find interesting.

Laurel could think of a few things.

“I live with my uncle. Have since I was a kid.” He turned and smiled at the teacher. “And I know nothing about Government,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Not this one, anyway.”

The entire classroom was won over. The guys were nodding their heads a little, the girls were twittering, and even Mrs Harms was smiling. And he wasn’t even enticing them. Laurel almost groaned aloud at the trouble that could lead to.

“Well, pick a seat then,” Mrs Harms said, handing Tamani a textbook. “We’ve only just gotten started.”

There were three empty seats in the classroom and almost everyone near them launched into a silent campaign for Tamani’s favour. Nadia, one of the prettier girls in the class, was the boldest. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, tossed her wavy brown hair over her shoulder, and leaned forward to not-so-subtly pat the backrest in front of her. Tamani grinned, almost apologetically, and continued past her to claim a seat in front of a girl who had scarcely looked up from her book since he’d walked into the classroom.

The seat beside Laurel.

As Mrs Harms droned on about daily reading assignments, Laurel sat back and stared at Tamani. She didn’t bother to hide it; just about every other girl in the classroom was doing the exact same thing. It was maddening to silently sit just two feet away while a million questions whizzed through her mind. Some were rational. Many were not.

Laurel’s head was spinning by the time the bell rang. This was her chance. She wanted to do so many things: yell at him, slap him, kiss him, grab his shoulders and shake him. But more than anything else, she wanted to wrap her arms round him – to hold herself to his chest and confess how much she’d missed him. She could do that with a friend, couldn’t she?

But then, wasn’t that why she’d gotten angry enough to send him away in the first place? For Tamani, it was never just a friendly hug. He always wanted more. And as flattering as his persistence – and passion – could be, the way he treated David as an enemy to be crushed was less endearing. It had broken her heart to send Tamani away and Laurel wasn’t sure she could go through that again.

She stood slowly and looked at him, her lips suddenly dry. As soon as his backpack was slung over one strong shoulder, he turned and met her eyes. Laurel opened her mouth to say something when he grinned and reached out his hand.

“Hey there,” he said, almost too brightly. “Looks like we’ll be desk-mates. Wanted to introduce myself – I’m Tam.”

Their clasped hands were moving up and down, but it was all Tamani’s doing; Laurel’s arm had gone limp. She stood silently for several seconds until Tamani’s meaningful look intensified and became almost a glare. “Oh!” she said belatedly. “I’m Laurel. Laurel Sewell. Pleasure.”

Pleasure? Since when did she say “Pleasure”? And why was he shaking her hand like a stodgy salesperson?

Tamani pulled a class schedule from his back pocket. “I have English next, with Mrs Cain. Would you mind showing me where the classroom is?”

Was the feeling that rushed over her relief that they didn’t share their second-hour class, or disappointment? “Sure,” she said cheerily. “It’s just down the hall.” Laurel gathered her things slowly, stalling while the classroom emptied. Then she leaned close to Tamani. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you glad to see me?”

She nodded, letting herself smile.

He grinned back, unconcealed relief brightening his expression. It made Laurel feel on more even ground to know he had been unsure too.

“Why—”

Tamani shook his head slightly and gestured towards the hall. When she was almost at the door, Tamani took hold of her elbow and stopped her. “Meet me in the woods behind your house after school?” he asked softly. “I’ll explain everything.” He paused, and with an unnatural quickness he lifted one hand to stroke her cheek. The feeling scarcely had time to register before his hands were back in his pockets and he was strolling out the door.

“Tama – Tam?” she called, trotting to catch up with him. “I’ll show you where to go.”

He grinned and laughed. “Come now,” he said almost too quietly for her to hear. “How unprepared do you think I am? I know this school better than you do.” And with a wink, he was gone.

“Homigosh!” Chelsea squealed, assaulting Laurel from behind and practically yanking her fingers from David’s grasp. She put her face right in front of Laurel’s. “Faerie boy is totally in my English class! Hurry before Ryan gets here – you have to spill!”

“Shh!” Laurel said, glancing around her. But no one was listening.

“He’s really hot,” she said. “The girls were all watching him. Oh, and the Japanese guy is in my Calculus class even though he’s only fifteen. When do you think American schools will get the memo that there’s a global economy out there?” she demanded. Then she paused and her eyes widened. “Man, I hope he doesn’t blow the curve.”

David rolled his eyes, but it was with a grin. “That’s what everyone else is thinking about you,” he said.

“Listen,” Laurel said, pulling Chelsea closer, “I don’t know anything yet; I still need to talk with him, OK?”

“You’ll tell me, though, right?” Chelsea asked.

“Don’t I always?” Laurel teased, smiling.

“Tonight?”

“We’ll see,” Laurel said, turning her round by her shoulders and pushing her in Ryan’s direction. “Go!” Chelsea turned and stuck her tongue out at Laurel before ducking under her boyfriend’s arm.

Laurel shook her head and turned to David. “One class together is not enough,” she said in a mock-stern voice. “Whose idea was this, anyway?”

“Not mine, that’s for sure,” David said. They went into the classroom and claimed a couple of desks near the back.

After everything else that had happened that day, Laurel shouldn’t have been surprised to see Tamani walk into her and David’s Speech class. When Tamani entered, David tensed, but he relaxed when Laurel’s erstwhile guardian chose a desk at the front of the room, several rows away.

It was going to be a long semester.

Chapter Two

Sighing heavily, Laurel dropped her backpack on the kitchen counter. She paused in front of the refrigerator to stare at its contents, then scolded herself for her obvious delay tactics. Still, she grabbed a nectarine before closing the fridge door, if for no other reason than to justify her browsing.

She walked over to the back door and stared, as she often did, at the trees behind her house, searching for signs of the faeries who now resided there full-time. Sometimes she spoke with them. She even occasionally supplied them with defensive potions and powders. She didn’t know if the sentries got any use out of them, but at least they didn’t turn them down. It was gratifying to feel like she was helping, especially since having to guard her house had disrupted all of their lives.

But with the total absence of troll activity since last year it hardly seemed necessary any more. Part of her wanted to suggest they go home, even though she knew better. Jamison had warned her that trolls preferred to strike when their prey was at its most vulnerable, and her experience had proven the truth of his words. Like it or not, it was probably safest if the sentries stayed, at least for now.

Laurel pulled open the back door and set off towards the trees. She wasn’t sure where exactly she was supposed to meet him, but she had no doubt Tamani would find her, as usual. She stopped short when she rounded a scrub oak to discover him removing one shoe with a swift, violent kick. His back was to her and he had already pulled his shirt off; Laurel couldn’t help but stare. The sun filtered through the canopy of leaves to illuminate the warm brown skin of his back – darker than David’s – as he bent and pulled at a stubborn shoelace. With a quiet mutter he finally got it undone and kicked it into the trunk of a nearby cypress tree.

As if freed from shackles instead of clothing, Tamani’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed noisily. Even though he was a bit short by human standards, his arms were lean and long. He stretched, flinging them out wide, his broad shoulders forming the top of a slender triangle that narrowed to his waist, where his jeans hung loosely at his hips. The angles of his back caught the sunlight and for a moment Laurel fancied that she could see him soaking in those nourishing rays. She knew she should say something – announce her presence – but she hesitated.

When he placed his hands on the hips she was eyeing and lifted his face to the sky, Laurel realised she’d better make some noise before he took something else off. She cleared her throat quietly.

The sun tossed golden light through Tamani’s hair as he spun, visibly tense. “It’s you,” he said, sounding relieved. Then a strange look took over. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” Laurel said quickly.

“A minute?” Tamani pressed. “Two?”

“Um, about one, I guess.”

Tamani shook his head. “And I didn’t hear a thing. Damn human clothes.” He dropped on to a fallen log and pulled off a sock. “They’re not just uncomfortable, they’re noisy! And what is with that school? It’s so dark.”

Laurel stifled a grin. She’d told her mother the same thing after her first day at Del Norte. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, handing him the nectarine. “Eat this. It’ll make you feel better.”

He took the fruit from her, his fingers brushing hers. “Thanks,” he said softly. He hesitated, then faced forward and took a bite. “I trained for this. I did! But they never made me stay indoors for this long at once. I was focused on learning the culture and didn’t even think about the consequences of being inside so much.”

“It helps if you get a seat under the windows,” Laurel suggested. “I learned that the hard way.”

“And who the hell came up with jeans?” Tamani continued darkly. “Heavy, sweltering fabric? You’re seriously telling me the race that invented the internet couldn’t create a fabric better than denim? Please!”

“You said internet,” Laurel said with a snort. “That is so weird.”

Tamani just laughed and took another bite of the nectarine. “You were right,” he said appreciatively, holding up the fruit. “This helps a lot.”

Laurel stepped over and sat down next to him on the fallen log. They were almost close enough to touch, but the air between them might as well have been a granite wall. “Tamani?”

He turned to face her, but said nothing.

Not sure whether it was a mistake, Laurel smiled and leaned forward, circling her arms round his neck. “Hello,” she said, her lips near his ear.

He wrapped his arms round her, returning her greeting. She started to pull back, but he held on tighter, his hands begging her to stay. She didn’t fight it – realised she didn’t want to. After a few more seconds, he released her, but it was with obvious reluctance. “Hi,” he said quietly.

She looked up into his light green eyes and was disappointed to realise that the colour still bothered her. They weren’t different, really; they were still his eyes. But she found the new colour irrationally disturbing.

“Listen,” Tamani said slowly. “I’m sorry this was all such a surprise for you.”

“You could have told me.”

“And what would you have said?” he asked.

Laurel started to say something, then closed her mouth and instead smiled guiltily.

“You’d have told me not to come, right?” Tamani pressed.

Laurel just raised one eyebrow.

“So I couldn’t tell you,” he said with a shrug.

Laurel reached down, plucked a small fern, and began tearing it to pieces. “Where have you been?” she asked. “Shar wouldn’t say.”

“Mostly in Scotland, like I said in class.”

“Why?”

It was his turn to look guilty. “Training.”

“Training for what?”

“To come here.”

“The whole time?” Laurel said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Tamani nodded.

Laurel tried to push away the hurt that instantly filled her chest. “You knew this whole time that you were coming back and you still left without saying goodbye?” She expected him to look ashamed, or at least apologetic, but he didn’t. He met her eyes without blinking.

“As opposed to waiting for you to come and tell me in person that you were choosing David instead of me and wouldn’t be coming round any more?”

She looked away, guilt crowding out her hurt feelings.

“How would that have done me any good? You’d have felt better – heroic even – and I’d have looked like a fool going off to the other side of the world to play scorned lover.” He paused, taking a bite of the nectarine and chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Instead, you had to feel the weight of your choices and I got to keep some of my pride. Just a touch,” he added, “since, regardless, I still had to go off to the other side of the world and play scorned lover. I think my mother would say, ‘Same fruit, different bough.’”

Laurel wasn’t sure she grasped the idiom. Even after two summers in Avalon, faerie culture mostly eluded her. But she got the gist of it.

“What’s done is done,” Tamani said, polishing off the nectarine, “and I suggest we don’t dwell on it.” He concentrated for a second before throwing the pit hard at the trees.

A quiet grunt sounded. “Hecate’s eye, Tamani! Was that really necessary?”

Tamani grinned as a tall sentry with closely cropped hair materialised from between the trees, rubbing his arm. “You were spying,” Tamani said, his tone light.

“I tried to give you some space, but you did ask me to meet you here.”

Tamani spread his hands wide in defeat. “Touché. Who else is coming?”

“The others are watching the house; there’s no reason for them to join us.”

“Great,” Tamani said, sitting up straighter. “Laurel, have you met Aaron?”

“Several times,” Laurel said, smiling her greeting. “Several” was probably stretching it, but she was fairly certain they had met once or twice. Last winter she had tried to go out and talk with the sentries – make friends. But they always simply bowed at the waist, which she despised, and said nothing. Still, Aaron looked familiar.

More importantly, he didn’t correct her. He just nodded – so deeply it was almost a bow – then turned back to Tamani.

“I’m not here as a regular sentry,” Tamani began, looking at Laurel. “I’m here to be what I was always supposed to be: Fear-gleidhidh.”

It took Laurel a moment to remember the word. Last fall, Tamani had told her it meant “escort”, and it resembled a word the Winter faeries used for their bodyguards. But it was somehow more. . . personal.

“We had too many close calls last year,” Tamani continued. “It’s hard for us to watch you while you’re at school, or protect you well in crowded places. So I went to the Manor for some advanced training. I can’t blend in with humans as well as you do, but I can blend in well enough to stay close no matter what.”

“Is that really necessary?” Laurel interjected.

Both fae turned to look at her blankly.

“There hasn’t been any sign of trolls – or anything else – for months.”

A look passed between the two sentries and Laurel felt a stab of fear as she realised there was something they hadn’t told her. “That’s not. . . exactly true,” Aaron said.

“They’ve seen signs of trolls,” Tamani said, sitting back down on the fallen log. “Just no actual trolls.”

“Is that bad?” Laurel asked, still thinking that not seeing trolls – for any reason – was a good thing.

“Very,” Tamani said. “We’ve seen footprints, bloody animal corpses, even an occasional fire pit. But the sentries here are using everything they use at the gates – tracking serums, presence traps – and none of them are registering a troll presence at all. Our tried-and-true methods simply aren’t finding the trolls we know are here somewhere.”

“Couldn’t they be. . . old signs? Like, from last year?” Laurel asked.

Aaron started to say something, but Tamani spoke over him. “Trust me, they’re new.”

Laurel felt a little sick to her stomach. She probably didn’t want to know what Aaron had been about to say.

“But I would have come regardless,” Tamani continued. “Even before you told Shar about the lighthouse, Jamison wanted to send me to find out more about Barnes’s horde,” Tamani said. “His death gave us some peace, but a troll like him would have lieutenants, or commanders. I think it’s safe to assume this is merely the calm before the storm.”

Fear was gnawing at her insides now. It was a feeling Laurel had grown used to living without and she wasn’t happy with its sudden return.

“You also gave Klea four sleeping trolls, and it’s probably too much to hope that they simply woke up, killed her, and got on with their lives. It’s possible she interrogated them and found out about you, maybe about the gate.”

Laurel snapped to attention, feeling panicked. “Interrogated? The way she talked, I figured she would just. . . kill them. Dissect them. I didn’t even—”

“It’s OK,” Tamani said. “You did the best you knew how, under the circumstances. You’re not a sentry. Maybe Klea did kill them outright; trying to interrogate them would be suicidal for most humans. And we don’t know how much Barnes told his lackeys, either. Still, we have to prepare for the worst. If these troll hunters decide to become faerie hunters, then you could be in more danger than ever. Jamison wanted to address these new developments, so he changed the plan slightly.”

“Slightly,” Laurel echoed, feeling suddenly weary. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She felt Tamani’s arm slip round her.

“Listen,” Tamani said to Aaron, “I’m going to take her inside. I think we’re done here.”

A soft nudge brought Laurel to her feet and she headed towards her house without saying goodbye. She walked quickly, pulling away from Tamani’s hand, wanting both to put distance between them and exert her independence.

What was left of it, anyway.

She pushed through the back door, leaving it open for Tamani, and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the first piece of fruit she saw.

“Do you mind if I have another one?” Tamani asked. “The one you gave me really helped.”

Wordlessly Laurel handed him the fruit, realising she had no appetite for it.

“What’s wrong?” Tamani asked at last.

“I’m not really sure,” Laurel said, avoiding his eyes. “Everything is just so. . . crazy. I mean –” she looked up at him now – “I’m so glad you’re back. I really am.”

“Good,” Tamani said, his smile a little shaky. “I was starting to wonder there.”

“But then you tell me I’m in all this danger and suddenly I’m afraid for my life again. No offence, but it kind of overshadows the happiness.”

“Shar wanted to send someone else and just not tell you, but I thought you’d rather know. Even if it meant. . . well, all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

Laurel considered. Something inside her insisted it was better this way, but she wasn’t so sure. “How much danger am I really in?”

“We’re not sure.” Tamani hesitated. “There’s definitely something going on. I’ve been here only a few days, but the things I’ve seen. . . Are you familiar with tracking serums?”

“Sure. They change colour, right? To show how old a trail is? I can’t make them yet—”

“No need. We have batches specially made for tracking trolls and humans. I poured some in a fresh track and it didn’t react at all.”

“So, none of your magic works?” Laurel asked, her throat tightening.

“It appears that way,” Tamani admitted.

“You’re not making me feel any safer,” Laurel said, trying to inject some humour with a smile. But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

“Please don’t be afraid,” Tamani insisted. “We don’t need magic – it just makes things easier. We’re doing everything we can to patrol the area. We’re not taking any chances.” He paused. “The problem is that we don’t actually know what we’re up against. We don’t know how many there are, what they’re up to, nothing.”

“So you’re here to tell me I have to be super-careful again,” Laurel said, knowing she should feel gratitude instead of resentment. “Stay at home, sundown is Cinderella time, and all that?”

“No,” Tamani said quietly, surprising her. “I’m not here to tell you anything like that. I don’t do patrols, I don’t go hunting, I just stick close to you. You live your life and continue with all of your normal activities. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, stepping forward to sweep a lock of hair back from her face. “Or die trying.”

Laurel stood frozen, knowing he meant every word. He misread her stillness as an invitation and leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath light on her face. A gentle sigh escaped Laurel’s lips before she could stop it and as Tamani drew nearer her eyes began to close on their own.

“Nothing’s changed,” she whispered, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers. “I made my choice.”

His hand stilled, but she sensed the slightest tremor at his fingertips. She watched him swallow once before smiling wanly and pulling back.

“Forgive me. I overstepped.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Same thing you do every day,” Tamani said, shrugging. “The less change to your routine, the better.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Laurel, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s me who has to deal with it, not you.”

Laurel looked at the floor.

“I mean it,” Tamani said, shifting subtly, putting more distance between them. “You don’t have to watch out for me or try to be my friend in school. I’ll just be around, and it will be fine.”

“Fine,” Laurel repeated, nodding.

“You know those apartments down on Harding?” Tamani asked, sounding casual again.

“The green ones?”

“Aye. I’m number seven,” he said, his smile playful. “Just in case you ever need me.”

He headed towards the front door and Laurel watched him for a few seconds before reality crept back in. “Tamani, stop!” she said, leaping off her stool and sprinting to the entryway. “Do not go out of my front door with no shirt on. I have very nosy neighbours.” She reached out to grab his arm. He turned and, almost instinctively, his hand rose to cover hers. He stared down at her fingers, so light against his olive skin, and his eyes traced the length of her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again his expression was neutral. He smiled easily, gave her hand a squeeze, then released it and let it fall from his arm.

“Of course,” he said lightly. “I’ll go out the back.”

He turned towards the kitchen, then paused. He lifted his hand and touched the necklace he had given her – her baby faerie ring, which hung on its silver chain. He smiled softly. “I’m glad you still wear this.”

Chapter Three

School was almost unbearably awkward for the next few days; Tamani’s presence in Government drove Laurel crazy and his presence in Speech drove David crazy. The fact that apparently there were still trolls hanging around Crescent City would probably have disturbed Chelsea more if she weren’t so happy to have a second faerie at Del Norte High. But though he was always around, Tamani mostly ignored Laurel and her friends. And while Laurel appreciated the occasional wink or secret smile, even those served to remind her of the dangers that could be lurking round every corner.

But with the return of homework and tests and research papers, Laurel found herself slipping into her usual school routine – trolls or no trolls, Tamani or no Tamani. She knew from experience how exhausting it could get, living in constant fear, and she refused to simply endure high school. She wanted to live her life, and though Laurel hated to admit it, her life didn’t have a lot of room for Tamani.

She wasn’t sure whether to feel sad about that, or guilty, or exasperated. Whether or not there was room in her life for Tamani, Laurel knew that there was precious little room in Tamani’s life for anyone or anything but Laurel. He lived to protect her, and he’d never failed her. Annoyed her, frustrated her, hurt her, maddened her – but never once failed her.

Sometimes she wondered what he did when she wasn’t around. But, especially in the afternoons, when she would lay snuggled up on the couch with David, she thought she was probably better off not knowing. She and David didn’t discuss it – she’d told him what was happening, of course, but they had long since come to the mutually tacit conclusion that where Tamani was concerned, silence was golden.

The itchy feeling that she was being watched was almost continual now. Laurel tried not to dwell on how often it was real, and how often imagined. But she often hoped it was real, particularly when a suspicious-looking vehicle drove by her house.

Or when her doorbell rang unexpectedly.

“Ignore it,” David said, looking up from his crisp, neatly tabbed notes as Laurel slid her messy ones off her lap. “It’s probably just a sales guy or something.”

“Can’t,” Laurel said. “Mom’s expecting a package from eBay. I’ll have to sign for it.”

“Hurry back,” David said with a grin.

Laurel was still smiling when she opened the door. But the instant she saw the familiar face her smile melted away and she tried to recover by pasting on a new one. “Klea! Hi! I—”

“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” Klea said with a smirk to rival the Mona Lisa’s. She was – as usual – dressed from head to toe in formfitting black, her mirrored sunglasses drawn down over her eyes. “I was hoping I could call in a favour.”

That seemed strangely direct, coming from Klea. Laurel’s mind went to Tamani’s words last week about the calm before the storm. She hoped she wasn’t watching that storm roll in. “What kind of favour?” she asked, grateful her voice sounded steady, strong.

“Can we talk out here?” Klea asked, nodding towards the front veranda.

Laurel followed her hesitantly, though she knew no one got this close to her house without sentries tracking their every move. Klea extended one hand towards a girl who was standing silently next to the wicker chair farthest from them. “Laurel, I’d like you to meet Yuki.”

It was the girl Laurel had seen with Tamani on their first day of school – the Japanese exchange student. She was wearing a khaki canvas skirt and a light, airy top decorated with red flowers. She was a little taller than Laurel, but the way she stood made her seem very small – arms folded, shoulders slumped, chin tucked against her chest. Laurel was familiar with the posture; it was the same one she assumed when she wished she could disappear.

“Yuki?” Klea prompted. Yuki raised her chin and lifted her long eyelashes, settling her gaze on Laurel.

Laurel blinked in surprise. The girl had elegantly almond-shaped eyes, but they were a shockingly pale green that seemed at odds with her dark hair and complexion. Very beautiful, though – a striking combination.

“Hi.” Feeling awkward, Laurel thrust her hand out. Yuki took it limply; Laurel quickly let go. The whole encounter was weirding her out. “You’re our new foreign exchange student, right?” Laurel asked, her eyes flitting to Klea.

Klea cleared her throat. “Not exactly. Well, she is from Japan, but we may have falsified some paperwork to get her into your school system. Calling her a foreign exchange was the easiest way.”

Laurel’s lips formed a silent O.

“Can we sit?” Klea asked.

Laurel nodded numbly.

“You may recall, I solicited the possibility of your assistance back in the fall,” Klea began, leaning back in the wicker chair. “I hoped we wouldn’t need it, but unfortunately, we do. Yuki is. . . a person of interest to my organisation. Not an enemy,” she added quickly, cutting off Laurel’s question. She turned to Yuki and stroked her long hair, brushing it back from her face. “She needs protection. We rescued her from trolls when she was just a baby, and placed her with a host family in Japan, as far from any known hordes as we could manage.” Klea sighed. “Unfortunately, nothing is foolproof. Last fall, Yuki’s host family – um, foster parents – were killed by trolls trying to capture her. We barely got her out in time.”

Laurel looked over at Yuki, who was staring calmly back, as if Klea had not just spoken of her parents’ murder.

“They sent her to me. Again. She’s been travelling with us, but she really ought to be in school.” Klea removed her sunglasses, just long enough to rub wearily at her eyes. It wasn’t even sunny out – but of course, Klea wore the stupid things even at night, so Laurel wasn’t surprised. “Plus, we managed to clear out the trolls in this area last year. Anyway, I don’t want to put her back in danger, and I certainly don’t want any new trolls to discover her. So we’ve put her in school here.”

“I don’t understand. Why here? What do you need me for?” Laurel saw no reason to conceal her scepticism. She had seen Klea’s camp – when it came to trolls, she couldn’t think of anyone less in need of help than Klea.

“Hopefully, not much. But I’m in a real bind. I can’t risk having her with me on a hunt. If I send her too far away, she’s vulnerable to trolls I don’t know about. If I don’t send her far enough, anything that slips through our dragnet could come after her. You held your own against five trolls last year, and Jeremiah Barnes was an especially difficult case. Considering that, I suspect you could deal with any. . . rogue elements that might show up in town. And I just thought you’d be a good person to keep an eye on her. Please?” Klea added, almost as an afterthought.

There had to be more to this than Klea was saying, but Laurel couldn’t imagine what. Was Yuki here to spy on Laurel? Or was Laurel letting Tamani’s suspicions make her paranoid? Klea had saved Laurel’s life – twice! Still, her reluctance to trust Klea was an unscratchable itch. No matter how much sense the woman made, no matter how plausible her stories sounded, every word that came out of her mouth felt wrong.

Was Klea being deliberately mysterious now? Maybe it was because this was the first time Laurel had seen Klea in broad daylight, or because she was emboldened by the nearness of her faerie protectors, or even just because she was older and more confident now. But whatever the reason, Laurel decided she’d had enough. “Klea, why don’t you just tell me what you’re really doing here?”

This, strangely, made Yuki chuckle, if only a little. Klea’s face was momentarily expressionless, then she too smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Laurel – you still don’t trust me, after everything I’ve done for you. And why should you? You know nothing about me. Your caution is to your credit. But I need you to trust me now, at least enough to help me out, so I’ll give it to you straight.” She looked over at Yuki, who was staring down into her lap. Klea leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We think the trolls are after Yuki because she’s not exactly. . . human.”

Laurel’s eyes widened.

“We’ve classified her as a dryad,” Klea continued. “It seems to fit. But she’s the only specimen we’ve encountered. All we know for sure is that she’s not an animal; she has plant cells. She seems to take nourishment from the soil and sunlight as well as external sources. She doesn’t exhibit any paranormal abilities, like the strength or persuasion we see in trolls, but her metabolism is a little miraculous, so. . . anyway. I really do need you to keep an eye on her. It may be months before I can arrange a permanent safe house. My hope is that I’ve hidden her well enough for now, but if not, you’re my backup plan.”

It took less than a second for Laurel to understand. She turned back to Yuki, and Yuki finally looked up at Laurel. Her pale green eyes. They were mirrors of Laurel’s eyes. Aaron’s eyes. Katya’s eyes. And, lately, Tamani’s eyes.

Those were faerie eyes.

Chapter Four

Laurel pushed the door closed, wanting nothing more than to turn back time; to have ignored the doorbell like David suggested. Not that an unanswered door would be likely to deter Klea, but. . .

“Well?”

Laurel spun round, startled by the sound of Tamani’s voice. He was standing next to David in the front room. Both had their arms crossed in front of them.

“When did you get here?” she asked, confused.

“About half a second before you answered the door,” David replied for him.

“What did she want?” Tamani asked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she picked that spot on purpose – like she knew I was there.”

Laurel shook her head. “It’s the porch, Tamani. It’s a common place to sit and chat.”

Tamani looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “So what’s going on? Why was Yuki with her?”

“Who’s Yuki?” David asked.

“The girl from Japan,” Tamani said brusquely. “The exchange student.”

Laurel stared at him for a second, wondering if he already knew. But she remembered that they had all toured the school together. Obviously Robison would have made introductions. Besides, he would have told her if he knew – wouldn’t he?

“She’s a faerie,” Laurel said softly.

Stunned silence buzzed in her ears.

Tamani opened his mouth, then stopped and closed it. He laughed humourlessly. “Those eyes. I should have seen it.” His grimace became a determined scowl. “So Klea knows about faeries – we have to assume she knows about you.”

“I’m not sure she does know about faeries,” Laurel said slowly. “She called Yuki a dryad.” Laurel sat down on the couch – where David immediately joined her – and related the rest of the conversation as Tamani paced the room. “I don’t like her and I don’t trust her, but I don’t think Klea actually knows what Yuki is.”

Tamani stood still now, his knuckles pressed softly against his mouth.

“Klea did save our lives. Twice, even,” David said. “But bringing another faerie to Del Norte seems like a pretty big coincidence.”

“Right,” Laurel said, trying to sort out her feelings. Part of her was overjoyed. Another faerie, living as a human! And not just for show, like Tamani, but raised from a young age by adoptive parents. That part of Laurel wanted to embrace Yuki and pull her inside the house and grill her about her life, her coping techniques, her daily routine. What did she eat? Had she blossomed yet? But revealing anything to Yuki surely meant telling Klea as well, and that was not something Laurel wanted to do.

“What do we know about Yuki?” David asked, looking to Tamani, who again crossed his arms and shook his head.

“Basically nothing. But she’s involved with Klea, so we know she can’t be trusted,” Tamani said darkly.

“What if Klea’s telling the truth?” Whatever her doubts about Klea, Laurel found herself hoping that Yuki was, at worst, an innocent pawn. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps just a natural desire to defend her own kind. Besides, she seemed so timid and shy. “I mean, if she’s here to spy, why reveal herself at all?”

“There are a lot of different ways to spy,” Tamani said slowly. “Yuki could be a diversion, or she could be hiding in plain sight. Knowing Yuki is a faerie isn’t nearly as important as knowing what kind.”

“Aren’t most of you Spring faeries?” asked David.

“Sure,” Tamani agreed. “And a strong Ticer surrounded by humans is as good as an army.”

David blanched, but Laurel shook her head. “Klea said Yuki didn’t have any powers.”

“Klea could be lying. Or Yuki could be hiding her abilities from Klea.” He paused, grinning a little. “In fact, Yuki could be the one lying to Klea. Wouldn’t that be something.”

“So what’s the worst-case scenario?” David asked. “She entices me or Chelsea into spilling your secrets?”

“Or she’s a Sparkler and she’s in here right now, invisible, listening to this conversation,” Tamani said.

“Summer faeries can do that?” Laurel asked.

“Some of them,” Tamani said. “Not that she’s likely to figure that out without training. But until today, I would have told you that I knew the location of every faerie outside of Avalon, so I guess anything is possible. For all we know, Yuki could be a Winter,” he closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. The thought made Laurel’s stomach clench. “Or a Fall.” He hesitated again, then spoke in a rush, as though afraid someone would stop him before he’d had his say. “She could even be the Mixer who poisoned your father.”

Laurel felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She managed to choke out a strangled, “What?”

“I— I—” Tamani stammered. “Look, the point is, she could be harmless, but she could be very, very dangerous. So we need to act quickly,” Tamani said, avoiding the question.

But Laurel wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “You mean two years ago – when he got sick? You said it was trolls.”

Tamani sighed. “It could have been the trolls. But in centuries of dealing with the trolls, we’ve never seen them use poison like that. They’re brutal and manipulative. . . but they’re not Mixers. So when your father got sick—”

“You think a Fall faerie did that?” Laurel asked blankly. Suddenly it made horrible sense.

“Yes. No. We thought maybe—”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Laurel felt her anger rising. What else had Tamani been holding back? He was supposed to teach her about the faerie realm, not keep her in the dark! “I’ve been to the Academy twice since then! Where basically all of the Fall faeries live! You should have said something!”

“I tried,” Tamani protested, “but Shar stopped me. And he was right to stop me. We investigated. Aside from you, no Mixers have been through the gates without constant supervision in decades. We don’t let fae cross out of Avalon lightly.”

“You let me,” Laurel insisted.

Tamani smiled softly, almost sadly. “You are very, very special.” He cleared his throat and continued. “No one wanted you to go into the Academy suspecting every Mixer you met of trying to kill your father. Especially since it probably wasn’t one of them.”

Laurel contemplated that. She knew several Fall faeries who were experts at animal poisons. Including Mara, who was still nursing an ancient grudge. “But now you think Yuki had something to do with it?” she asked, pushing that thought aside to focus on the threat at hand.

“Maybe. I mean, it doesn’t seem likely. She’s so young. And on top of that, Barnes showed resistance to our potions, so he could have been an unusually gifted troll in other ways too. All I know for sure is, Yuki shouldn’t be here. No wild faerie should be here.”

“Hang on,” David said, leaning forward, placing a hand on Laurel’s leg. “If Yuki poisoned your dad, then Yuki had to be working for Barnes – but if Yuki was working for Barnes, why is she with Klea now? Klea killed Barnes.”

“Maybe she was Barnes’s prisoner and Klea rescued her,” Laurel said.

“Then why not tell you that?” David asked. “Why lie about Yuki being an orphan?”

“And we’re back to Klea lying again,” Tamani said wryly.

After a long silence, Laurel shook her head. “It doesn’t add up. We don’t know anything. All we have is what Klea told me.” She hesitated. “What I’d really like is to get Yuki’s side of the story.”

“Impossible,” Tamani said instantly.

Laurel glared, annoyed at his dismissal. “Why?”

Tamani saw the change in her expression and softened his tone. “I think it’s too dangerous,” he said softly.

“Can’t you entice her?” David asked.

“It doesn’t really work on faeries,” Laurel said. But it had worked on her, before she knew what she was – maybe David had a point.

Tamani shook his head. “It’s worse than that. If it doesn’t work at all, it will be because she knows about enticement, and then she’ll know I’m fae. I can’t risk that until we know more.”

“How are we supposed to know more?” Laurel asked, exasperated. The impossibility of the situation was suffocating. “We don’t know who’s lying and who’s telling the truth. Maybe no one’s telling the truth!”

“I think we need to go see Jamison,” Tamani said after a pause.

Laurel found herself nodding. “I think that’s a good idea,” she said slowly.

Tamani pulled something out of his pocket, and began tapping at it.

“Oh my gosh, is that an iPhone?” Laurel asked, her voice unconsciously rising in pitch and volume.

Tamani looked up at her, his expression blank. “Yeah?”

“He has an iPhone,” Laurel said to David. “My faerie sentry who generally lives without running water has an iPhone. That’s. Just. Great. Everyone in the whole world has a cell phone except me. That’s awesome.” Her parents still insisted that cell phones were for adults and college students. So behind the times.

“It’s essential for communication purposes,” Tamani said defensively. “I have to admit, humans are far beyond the fae in terms of communication. With this we can deliver messages instantly. A few buttons and I can talk to Shar! It’s astounding.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “I’m aware of what they do.” She paused, a pained expression clouding her features. “Shar has one too?”

“Granted,” Tamani said slowly, not answering her question, “it doesn’t work quite as well for us as humans. Our bodies don’t conduct electrical currents the same, so sometimes I have to touch the screen more than once to get it to react. Still, I can hardly complain.”

David offered Laurel an apologetic smile. “You’re always welcome to use mine.”

Tamani growled and muttered an unfamiliar word under his breath. “No answer.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and stood with his hands on his hips, looking pensive.

Laurel stared at him, his tense shoulders, his dominating posture. He’d been back for about two weeks, and everything in Laurel’s life had been thrown into chaos.

Sexy, sexy chaos.

At least he had his shirt on this time. She cleared her throat and looked away, pulling her thoughts back where they belonged.

“We need to go to the land,” Tamani said, pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

“What? Wait!” Laurel said, rising to her feet and feeling David do the same at her side. “We can’t go to the land tonight.”

“Why not? Jamison needs to know about this. I’ll drive.”

That sounded so wrong coming out of Tamani’s mouth. “Because it’s almost six o’clock. My parents are going to be home soon and I still have homework.”

Tamani looked confused. “So?”

Laurel shook her head. “Tamani, I can’t go. I have things to do here. You go. You don’t need me. Besides,” she added, glancing out at the purpling sky, “it’ll be dark soon. This whole thing has really put me on edge and I would feel better if we were all home before sundown tonight. You’re the one who told me there are still trolls around,” she added.

“That’s why I have to stay close to you,” he insisted. “It’s my job.”

“Well, high school is my job,” Laurel said. “Not to mention keeping my family and friends safe. Anyway, you have your phone. Call Shar again later; have him arrange a time this weekend for Jamison to come out and talk with us. We have a half-day at school on Friday, so we can go then. Or Saturday, when we can be back in plenty of time before sundown.”

Tamani was gritting his teeth, and Laurel could tell that although he didn’t like what she was saying, he knew it made more sense than rushing off on an hour-long drive to the land just as the sun was starting to set. “Fine,” he said at last. “But we’re going on Friday, not Saturday.”

“After school,” Laurel said.

“Right after school.”

“Deal.”

Tamani nodded stoically. “David should probably head home then. It’ll be sunset soon.” And with that he turned and headed towards the back of the house. Laurel listened for a door, but heard nothing. After a few seconds she peeked into the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be seen.

David nestled his face against her neck, his breath hot on her collarbone. She wanted to hold him closer, tighter, but knew it would have to wait. Despite Tamani’s assurance that he could handle things, Laurel was back to wanting David safe inside his house at sundown.

“You really should get home,” she whispered. “I don’t want you outside after dark.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much,” David said.

Laurel pulled back and looked up at him. “Yes, I do,” she said softly. “What would I do without you?” It was a question that no longer seemed so hypothetical, and she didn’t want to know the answer.

Chapter Five

Tamani shut the door noiselessly behind him, breaking into a silent run towards the darkening tree line. He didn’t have much time – one of the less pleasant parts of his job was seeing that David got home alive once Laurel was safely in for the night. Keeping the human boy breathing didn’t rate high on Tamani’s personal priority scale, but since Laurel’s happiness was second only to her safety, David was watched.

Aaron reached out to grab Tamani’s arm as he passed the nearest tree. “What’s happening?” he whispered.

“We have trouble,” Tamani replied grimly.

Trouble was the least of what they had. Now that he didn’t have to look confident and strong for Laurel’s benefit, Tamani sank to the ground, ran his fingers through his hair – he still wasn’t used to it being so short – and let his worst fears wash over him. Not for the first time, Tamani wished Jamison would simply order Laurel to Avalon for good. But Jamison insisted it wasn’t time and that Laurel had to come willingly.

“Another faerie has arrived,” he said.

Aaron raised one eyebrow. “Shar didn’t say anything—”

“With the Huntress. Not from Avalon.”

Aaron’s other eyebrow went up. “Unseelie?”

“That doesn’t seem likely. She’s got to be some kind of. . . wild faerie.”

“But that’s impossible,” Aaron said, stepping closer, his fists on his hips.

“I know,” Tamani said, looking towards the house and seeing two silhouettes moving about the kitchen in the dying evening light. He recapped the visit to Aaron, fear gripping his chest as worst-case scenarios ran through his head.

“What does this mean for us?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know,” Tamani replied. “More reinforcements, for one.”

“More?” Aaron stared in disbelief. “At this rate we’ll have half of Avalon here by winter.”

“It can’t be helped. We’ll need at least one squad watching the new girl. Maybe two. Jamison promised me more sentries if we need them, and I don’t want to take anyone from Laurel’s house.”

Tamani looked up at the sound of a car engine turning over. David’s car – it had a distinctive tick that had become all too familiar the last couple of weeks. It was time to go. Rising to his feet, Tamani pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d try Shar again as he tracked David. He turned and placed his free hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “This faerie has the potential to destroy everything we’ve worked for. We cannot take her lightly.”

He didn’t wait for Aaron’s reply before sprinting off after David’s tail-lights.

Whatever Yuki was up to, it apparently required her to ignore Laurel at all costs.

At first Laurel thought Yuki was simply shy, as any attempt to approach her resulted in a murmured apology followed by a hasty retreat. But when Laurel settled for smiling at her in the hallway, Yuki pretended not to notice. By Thursday, even finding Yuki became a challenge, and Laurel’s efforts were giving her a headache. Laurel didn’t want to go to Jamison before she’d found something out about Yuki, but the elusive faerie wasn’t giving her much choice.

On Friday morning Tamani wasn’t in Government when Laurel walked in. She was beginning to worry when he plopped himself down in his seat just as the final bell rang. Mrs Harms didn’t mark him tardy, but she did raise one menacing eyebrow that seemed to say, Next time.

“Shar’s still not answering,” Tamani hissed as soon as Mrs Harms turned her back to write on the whiteboard.

Laurel shot him a concerned look. “Not at all?”

“Not once.” He was practically twitching in his seat. “It could be nothing,” he added, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “Shar hates his phone. He doesn’t think we should be using human technology; says we always get into trouble when we do. So he’s stubborn enough to not answer it on principle. But it. . . it could mean something’s happened. We’re still on for today, right?”

“Yes,” Laurel said earnestly. “I told my parents and everything. We’re good to go.”

“Great,” he said, sounding more nervous than excited.

“Are we still going to get to see Jamison?” Laurel asked.

Tamani hesitated and Laurel looked questioningly at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Shar is really paranoid about opening the gate – especially without warning.”

“We have to see Jamison,” Laurel insisted in a whisper. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Tamani looked at her for a moment with a strange expression on his face that almost made Laurel think he was mad at her. “For you, I guess,” he said darkly, then turned to the front of the room, doodling furiously as Laurel took notes. Laurel tried to catch his eye, but he looked steadfastly away from her. What had she said?

As soon as the bell rang Tamani stood and hurried towards the door without a backward glance. Just as he passed into the hall, Laurel heard a grunt and a scuffle. Craning her neck, she saw David and Tamani standing chest to chest, a couple of books on the floor at their feet.

“Sorry,” David murmured. “Didn’t see you.”

Tamani glared at David for a moment, then he lowered his eyes and mumbled an apology as he retrieved his books, and slid out into the hallway.

“What was that?” Laurel asked as she and David fell into step beside each other in the hall.

“It was an accident,” David said. “The bell rang and he came barrelling out. I didn’t have time to move.” He hesitated before adding, “He didn’t look happy.”

“He’s mad at me,” Laurel said, watching Tamani’s back disappear into the crowd. “I don’t know why.”

“What happened?”

Laurel explained as they walked to their side-by-side lockers. Being a senior was not without its perks.

“Is it because I’m not that worried about Shar?” she asked.

David hesitated. “It could be,” he admitted. “Don’t you get mad at him when he doesn’t seem worried about me? Or Chelsea?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. You and Chelsea aren’t like Shar. Tamani doesn’t worry about you because you don’t matter to him,” Laurel said, stifling the anger she always felt at Tamani’s general scorn for humans. “I’m not worried about Shar because he is totally capable of taking care of himself. It’s. . . a respect thing.”

“I get that, but if Tamani’s worried,” David said, lowering his voice, “don’t you think maybe you should be too?”

It made sense, and Laurel felt her old grudge melt away – for the moment. “You’re right,” she said. “I should apologise.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time this afternoon,” David said in a deceptively light voice.

Laurel laughed, giving a mock-gasp. “David, are you jealous?”

“No! Well, I mean, I’d love to spend the afternoon with you, so in that way, yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged. “I just wish I could go.” He paused, then looked at her with transparent innocence. “I could wait in the car.”

“It’s probably not a good idea,” Laurel said softly, thinking about the conversation she’d just had with Tamani. “We’re trying to get into Avalon without advance notice as it is. Bringing you with us would probably just put them on edge.”

“OK.” David paused again, then leaned his head closer to her and said in a fierce whisper, “I wish I could go through that gate with you.”

Her throat tightened. Avalon was the one thing she could never share with David. And it wasn’t just that the fae would never let him through the gate – Laurel was a little worried about how David would be treated even if he were allowed. “I know,” she whispered, reaching her hands up to touch his cheeks.

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

She laughed. “I’m not leaving yet!”

“Yeah, but you’re going to class. I’ll miss you till it’s over.”

Laurel slapped his shoulder playfully. “You are so sappy.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“I do,” Laurel said, folding herself into his arms.

When class let out for the day, Laurel headed straight for the parking lot, knowing how anxious Tamani was. And, admittedly, she was a little curious to see what kind of car he drove. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see a convertible. Tamani said nothing as he unlocked her door and lowered the car’s top.

For the first couple of minutes, Laurel was simply fascinated by the sight of Tamani driving. The novelty of seeing him in distinctly human situations was starting to wear off, but it wasn’t gone yet.

As Tamani pulled on to the highway, Laurel finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?” Tamani replied, donning a convincingly unaffected air.

“For not taking you seriously. About Shar.”

“It’s OK,” Tamani said guardedly. “I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t,” Laurel insisted. “I should have listened.”

Tamani was silent.

Laurel sat, not knowing what to say next. “If anything happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do,” Tamani finally said, his words coming out in a rush.

Not wanting to interrupt and make him clam up, Laurel simply nodded.

“Shar is – I would probably say he’s like a brother, if I knew what that was like.” He glanced over at her for a second before returning his eyes to the road. “Everything I am now, I owe to him. I wasn’t even technically old enough to be in the guard when he took it upon himself to make a proper sentry out of me.” Finally, Tamani smiled again. “He’s the main reason I got to meet you again.”

“He’ll be fine,” Laurel said, trying to sound confident rather than dismissive. “From everything you’ve told me and everything I know about him, he’s really amazing. I’m sure he’s OK.”

“I hope so,” Tamani said, edging his speed up a little higher.

Laurel watched the road, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Tamani stealing glances at her. “You hardly talk to me at school,” Laurel said a few minutes later as Tamani sped down the passing lane, overtaking a convoy of trucks. She was impressed. He had a manual transmission and was shifting through gears way better than she had when she was a new driver.

Tamani shrugged. “Well, we’re not supposed to know each other, remember?”

“Yeah, but you talk to me in Government. You could at least wave in the halls.”

Tamani glanced her way. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because of Yuki. Klea. Trolls. Take your pick.” He paused. “I worry about too many faeries being together in one place. I’d like to,” he added, smiling, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Laurel said in mock cheerfulness. “We should hide our friendship instead, and then if anyone sees us driving around like this they’ll assume I’m cheating on my boyfriend. That’s a much better idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” She glanced sidelong at him. “Trust me, in a small town, scandal draws way more attention than group vegetarianism.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tamani asked.

Laurel considered that. “Wave in the halls. Say hi. Don’t ignore me in Speech class. In a couple of weeks, it won’t seem out of the ordinary to anyone. Not even Yuki or Klea, assuming they care.”

Tamani grinned. “Don’t you think you’re brilliant.”

“I don’t think,” Laurel said with a laugh, leaning her head a little to the side so the wind caught her long, golden hair and threw it back behind her. “I know.” After a pause she added, “You could be David’s friend too.” She glanced at Tamani when he said nothing. He was frowning. “The two of you really have a lot in common, and we’re all in this together.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Why not? He’s a nice guy. And it would do you good to have some human friends,” she said, hinting at what she suspected was the root of the problem.

“It’s not that,” Tamani said, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

“Then why?” Laurel asked, exasperated.

“I just don’t want to cosy up to the guy whose girl I have every intention of stealing,” he said flatly, without looking at her.

Laurel stared silently out the window for the rest of the trip.

Chapter Six

When they arrived at the land, Tamani turned to her. “Stay here,” he said, his eyes on the tree line. “Just until we know it’s safe,” he added. Laurel relented; after all, he was combat-trained and she wasn’t. He unbuckled his seat belt and sprang out of the convertible without bothering to open the door.

Just before he reached the shadow of the trees, someone in green leaped out from Tamani’s right and toppled him over. At first Laurel couldn’t identify the blur that knocked Tamani to the ground, but as soon as she realised it was Shar she opened the door and hurried to them.

The two sentries were tangled in the dirt, Tamani with his arms wrenched firmly behind him, his legs wrapped round Shar’s waist, pinning him to the ground. Each struggled to get free of the other but it looked like a stalemate. Laurel crossed her arms and grinned as the faeries grunted out Gaelic epithets and outlandish faerie slurs.

“Rot-headed spore! Make me worry.”

“Pansy sentry, totally unprepared.”

Finally Tamani called truce and they got to their feet, dusting off their clothes and shaking leaves out of their hair. Laurel noticed that Shar’s hair, like Tamani’s, was no longer green at the roots. Apparently Tamani hadn’t been the only one to change his diet.

“Why didn’t you answer the phone, mate? I’ve been calling you all week!”

Laurel put up a hand to cover her smile as she listened to Tamani’s accent thicken with every word. Shar reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out his iPhone with the same look Laurel’s mother reserved for leftovers found mouldering in the back of the fridge. “I can’t work this blighted thing,” Shar said. “Half of the time I don’t feel it buzzing until it’s too late, and even when I do, I put it up to my ear like you said and nothing happens.”

“Did you slide the bar?” Tamani asked.

“What bar? It’s as smooth as a holly leaf,” Shar said, looking at the phone Laurel noticed he was holding upside down. “You told me it’s as easy as picking it up and talking. That’s what I did.”

Tamani sighed, then reached out and punched Shar in the shoulder. Shar didn’t even move, much less flinch. “There’s not even anything to remember! It tells you right on the screen what to do. Let’s try it again,” Tamani said, reaching into his pocket.

“No point in that,” Shar said moodily, his eyes darting towards Laurel. “I can hear you now.” He turned and walked down the path. “Best get out of sight. Would be our luck that after six months with no trolls, one would wander by as we’re standing out in the open, gawking at human trinkets.”

Tamani stood for a few seconds, phone in hand, then shoved his hands in his pockets and tramped after Shar, looking back with a shrug to make sure Laurel was following. But Laurel could see the relief in his eyes.

About ten feet into the woods, Shar drew abruptly to a halt. “So why are you here?” he asked, his face very serious, playful demeanour gone. “The plan was never for you to bounce back and forth. You are supposed to maintain your post in the human world.”

Tamani sobered as well. “The situation has changed. The Huntress enrolled a faerie at Laurel’s school.”

Shar’s eyebrow twitched; a big reaction, from him. “The Huntress is back?”

Tamani nodded.

“And she has a faerie with her. How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. Supposedly, Klea’s people found her in Japan, where she was raised by human parents. We don’t know what she’s capable of, if anything.” Tamani’s eyes darted to Laurel. “I told Laurel about the toxin. The wild faerie – Yuki – looks too young to have made something like that, but who could say for sure?”

Shar’s eyes narrowed. “How young does she look?”

“Younger than thirty. Older than ten. You know it would be impossible to say for sure. But from what I’ve observed of her behaviour, she could be within a year or two of Laurel’s age.”

Laurel hadn’t even considered that. She knew faeries aged differently from humans, but the differences were most pronounced in very young faeries – like Tamani’s niece, Rowen – and middle-aged faeries, who might spend a century looking like a human in the prime of life. Yuki didn’t look out of place at Del Norte, but that only meant she was at least as old as her classmates.

Shar was frowning thoughtfully, but asked no further questions.

“Now that I know your sorry pulp isn’t crushed to death under some troll’s boot, we need to see Jamison,” said Tamani. “He’ll know what to do.”

“We do not just summon Jamison, Tam. You know that,” Shar said flatly.

“Shar, it’s important.”

Shar stepped close to Tamani, his words so quiet Laurel hardly heard them. “The last time I demanded the presence of a Winter faerie it was to save your life. I have watched other fae die when Avalon could have saved them because I knew I could not put my home at risk. We don’t call the Winters down for a chat.” He paused. “I will send a request. When they bring a response, I’ll let you know. That is all I can do.”

Tamani’s face sank. “I thought—”

“You did not think,” Shar said sternly, and Tamani’s mouth clapped shut. Shar chased his reproach with a scowl, but after a moment he sighed and his expression softened. “And that is partly my fault. If I had been able to speak to you on that ridiculous thing you wouldn’t have been so concerned, and I could have made the request days ago. I apologise.” He placed one hand on Tamani’s arm. “It is a matter of great importance, but do not forget who you are. You are a sentry; you are a Spring faerie. Even your position of great notice doesn’t change that.”

Tamani nodded solemnly, saying nothing.

Laurel stood silently for a few seconds, staring at the two fae in disbelief. Despite her assurances to Tamani that she wanted Shar to be safe, she came to see Jamison.

And she wasn’t leaving until she had.

Lifting her chin defiantly, Laurel turned and headed into the forest as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

“Laurel!” Tamani called immediately after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Avalon,” she said, holding her voice as steady as she could manage.

“Laurel, stop!” Tamani said, wrapping one hand round her upper arm.

Laurel pulled her arm from his grasp, the strength of his fingers stinging against her skin. “Don’t try and stop me!” she said loudly. “You have no right!” Without pausing to look at his face, she pivoted and continued the way she had been heading. As she walked, several faeries approached the path, spears raised, but as soon as they recognised her, they backed off.

When she reached the tree that disguised the gate it was guarded by five fully armed sentries. Taking a deep breath and reminding herself that, whatever else they might do, these warriors would never actually harm her, Laurel marched up to the closest one. “I am Laurel Sewell, Apprentice Fall, scion in the human world. I have business with Jamison, the Winter faerie, advisor to Queen Marion, and I demand entrance to Avalon.”

The guards, clearly thrown by this display, bowed respectfully at the waist and turned questioning eyes to Shar, who stepped forward and also bowed. Guilt welled up in Laurel’s chest, but she forced it down.

“Of course,” Shar said softly. “I will send your request immediately. It is, however, up to the Winter faeries to decide whether they will open the gate.”

“I’m quite aware,” Laurel said, proud that her voice didn’t quaver.

Shar bowed again, not meeting her eyes. He circled to the far side of the tree and Laurel wished she could go and see what he did – how he communicated with Avalon. But following him might destroy the illusion of power that, she had to admit, she was doing an excellent job of maintaining. So she averted her eyes and tried to look bored as silent minutes ticked by.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Shar emerged from behind the tree. “They are sending someone,” he said, his voice just a touch raspy. Laurel tried to catch his eye, but though his chin was raised as high and proud as hers, he would not meet her gaze.

“Good,” she said, as though she were not the least bit surprised. “I will need to be accompanied by my, um, guardian.” She indicated Tamani with a flick of her head. She almost tried the Gaelic word that Tamani used to refer to himself, but didn’t trust herself to say it right.

“Of course,” Shar said, eyes still glued to the ground. “Your safety is of highest priority to us. Sentries, my first twelve to the front,” he ordered.

Laurel felt rather than saw Tamani start forward, but with a quick intake of breath he planted both feet again.

Twelve sentries filed past a large knot on the tree, each placing a hand on it. Laurel remembered with a twinge of sorrow the way Shar had lifted Tamani’s nearly lifeless hand to the same knot when she’d brought him back – almost dead – after being shot by Barnes.

She tried to look unimpressed as the tree changed before her, transforming with a brilliant flash of light into the golden-barred gate that protected the faerie realm of Avalon. Beyond the gate, Laurel saw only blackness. Jamison had not yet arrived. Then, slowly, like the sun filtering out from behind a cloud, small fingers appeared and encircled the bars. A moment later the gate swung open, light flowing in to fill the space where there had been only darkness a moment before.

A girl who looked about twelve years old – if she were human, Laurel reminded herself; the young faerie was probably fourteen or fifteen – stood in the gateway, dwarfed by the height of the magnificent gate. It was Yasmine, Jamison’s protégé. Laurel lowered her eyes and inclined her head in respect. Playing the role meant stepping into all aspects of it. She straightened and glanced behind her.

And almost lost her nerve.

She hated seeing Tamani act like a Spring faerie. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were downcast. His shoulders were subtly drawn forward and he looked very small, despite being half a foot taller than Laurel. Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Laurel said, “Come on,” in the most commanding tone she could muster, and stepped forward.

The young Winter faerie smiled up at Laurel. “Lovely to see you again,” Yasmine said, in a sweet, tinkling voice. Her gaze travelled back to Tamani and she smiled. “And Tamani. A pleasure.”

Tamani’s face softened into a smile so genuine it made Laurel’s heart ache to see it. But he bowed the moment she met his eyes, and Laurel looked away. She couldn’t bear to witness such obeisance from Tamani. Proud, powerful Tamani.

Yasmine stepped back, beckoning them forward. Laurel and Tamani passed by her, but instead of following, Yasmine greeted someone else. Laurel turned to see Shar step forward and present himself with a bow.

“Captain?” Yasmine asked.

“If I could, since you are here anyway, may I make use of the Hokkaido gate? I will be ready and waiting when you return with the scion.”

“Of course,” Yasmine said.

Shar skittered through the gate and Laurel turned to watch it close behind him, the blackness seeping in behind the bars.

“It will take just a moment for the sentries in Hokkaido to prepare for the opening,” a small, dark-haired sentry said as she bowed to Yasmine. Yasmine merely nodded as the sentries on the Avalon side gathered around the east-facing gate. Laurel had never seen any of the other gates opened.

“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?” Tamani hissed to Shar.

A sharp look was his only response. “Don’t do it, Shar,” Tamani said. “You’re always depressed for weeks. We can’t afford that now. We need you focused.”

“It is because of the new faerie that I am going to her,” Shar said seriously. He paused and his eyes darted to Laurel. “If this new faerie was raised as a human in Japan, her appearance could be evidence of the Glamour at work. And if that is the case, they may know something. Like it or not, they have knowledge and experience that we don’t. I will do whatever it takes to protect Avalon, Tam. Especially if. . .” His voice trailed off. “Just in case,” he said in a whisper.

“Shar,” Tamani began. Then he pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Captain?” Yasmine’s silky voice interrupted them.

“Of course,” Shar said, turning away.

An arc of sentries lay just beyond the gate that Yasmine was holding open. They looked almost identical to the circle that always greeted Laurel, except that they were wearing long sleeves and heavy breeches – a strange sight among faeries. A gust of chilly air rushed through the gate, sharp enough to make Laurel gasp. She looked at Shar, but he was already striding forward, pulling a voluminous cloak out of his pack. Then he was gone, and the gate closed behind him.

“This way, ” Yasmine said, heading up the meandering path that led out of the walled garden. A half-dozen guards, clad in blue, fell into step around them – Yasmine’s Am fear-faire, the young faerie’s guardians and almost constant companions. For this alone Laurel would not have wanted to be a Winter faerie, no matter how powerful they were. She valued what little privacy she had.

They walked silently, passing through the stone walls that enclosed the gates and into Avalon’s earthy resplendence. Laurel paused to savour the island’s sweet air; the sheer perfection of nature in Avalon was enough to take anyone’s breath away. Evening was already falling, and a brilliant sunset was painting itself across the Western horizon. “I’m sorry Jamison could not come and greet you himself,” Yasmine said, addressing Laurel, “but he has asked that I bring you to him.”

“Where is he?” Laurel asked. She hadn’t intended to disturb Jamison in the middle of something important.

“In the Winter Palace,” Yasmine said casually.

Laurel stopped in her tracks and looked up the hill to where the crumbling white marble spires of the Winter Palace could just be seen. She glanced back at Tamani. He stared resolutely at the ground, but a slight tremor of his hands, clasped in front of him, showed her that the thought of entering the sanctuary of the Winter faeries frightened him even more than it frightened her.

Chapter Seven

Laurel looked up at the Winter Palace as they approached it on a sharply sloped path. She had noted the green vines that supported large portions of the structure from afar, but as they drew closer she could see where tiny threads sprouted from the vines, enmeshing themselves in the shimmering white stone, encasing the castle in a lover’s embrace. Laurel had never seen a building that looked so alive!

At the top of the slope, they came to an enormous white archway. On either side sprawled the disintegrating ruins of what must have once been a magnificent wall, and as they passed into the courtyard, Laurel saw that she was surrounded by destruction. Crumbling relics – from statues and fountains to sections of the destroyed wall – jutted incongruously from the beautifully manicured lawn. Nowhere else had Laurel seen such disrepair in Avalon. Everything at the Academy was fixed as soon as it was broken, every structure meticulously maintained. Everywhere else she had visited in Avalon seemed much the same – but not the palace. Laurel couldn’t imagine why.

Inside, however, the palace was bustling with faeries dressed in crisp white uniforms, polishing every surface and watering hundreds of plants potted in elaborately crafted urns. It had the same familiar neatness and luxury that Laurel had gotten used to seeing at the Academy. She and Tamani followed Yasmine to the foot of a wide, grand staircase. The more steps they mounted, the quieter the chamber grew. At first Laurel thought it was a trick of acoustics, but by the time they were halfway up the staircase, the entire room was silent.

Laurel ventured a glance over her shoulder. Tamani was right behind her, but his hands, which had been trembling very slightly before, were now clasped so tightly Laurel imagined he must be hurting himself. Every faerie servant on the floor below them was staring, dusters and watering cans held limply in their unmoving hands. Even the Am fear-faire had stopped at the foot of the stairs, not following when Yasmine began her ascent.

“We’re going into the upper rooms of the Winter Palace,” Tamani whispered quietly, his voice strained. “No one goes into the upper rooms. Except Winter faeries, I mean.”

Laurel looked up to the top of the stairs. Rather than opening into a wide foyer, as she had expected, they ended in a huge set of double doors, heavily gilded where they showed through a thick hanging of vines. They were the largest doors Laurel had ever seen. They looked too big, too heavy, for Yasmine to move at all.

But the young faerie didn’t pause as she reached them. She raised both her hands in front of her, palms out, and made a gentle pushing motion towards the doors without actually touching them. There was visible effort in her movement, as though something in the air was pushing back at her, and gradually, with the rustling of greenery, the doors glided open, just wide enough to pass through single file.

Yasmine looked back at Laurel calmly, expectantly. After a moment’s hesitation, Laurel eased through the door, followed by a slightly more reluctant Tamani.

It was like walking under the canopy of the World Tree. The air was alive with magic – with power.

“We do not frequently allow other fae into the upper chambers,” Yasmine said calmly, “but Jamison felt that anything which would cause our scion to demand a meeting with him must surely call for secrecy only the upper rooms can provide.”

Laurel was starting to regret her haste and the impulsive demands she had made to get here. She wondered what Jamison would do when he discovered why they had come. Was a wild faerie in Laurel’s school worth all this concern?

“He’s back here,” Yasmine said, beckoning them through a cavernous room decorated in white and gold. An eclectic mix of items was on display atop a series of alabaster pillars – a small painting, a pearl-encrusted crown, a shiny silver cup. Laurel squinted at a long-necked lute made of a very dark wood. Cocking her head to the side, she stepped off the deep-blue carpet that streaked across the room and headed towards the lute, obeying a pull it seemed unnecessary to question. She paused before it, wanting nothing else so much as to strum its delicate strings.

Just as she reached for it, Yasmine’s hand wrapped round her wrist and pulled her arm back with surprising strength. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” she said matter-of-factly. “My apologies, I should have warned you; we are all used to the lure. We hardly notice it any more.”

Yasmine padded softly back to the dark-blue rug, her bare feet making no sound on the marble floor. Laurel looked back at the lute. She still wanted to play it, but the pull wasn’t quite as strong as before. She hurried away before she could dwell on it too long.

They turned a corner at the end of the vast room. By the time Laurel saw Jamison, he had already heard them coming. He turned from whatever he was doing and stepped towards them through a marble archway, gesturing broadly with both arms as he approached. From either side of the archway, two massive stone walls slid slowly together with a deep, echoing rumble. Over Jamison’s shoulder Laurel glimpsed a sword, driven point-down into a squat granite block. The blade gleamed like a polished diamond before vanishing behind the heavy slabs.

“Any luck?” Yasmine asked.

“No more than usual,” he said with a smile.

“What was that?” Laurel asked, before she thought to stop herself.

But Jamison just waved her question away. “An old problem. And like most old problems, nothing urgent. But you,” he said, smiling, “I’m happy to see you.” He extended one hand to Laurel and one to Tamani. Laurel was quick to grasp his hand in both of hers, while inclining her head respectfully. Tamani hesitated, gripped Jamison’s hand in a traditional handshake, then let his hand drop and bent formally at the waist without saying anything at all.

“Come,” Jamison said, gesturing to a small room just off the marble hall, “we can talk in here.” Laurel walked into the finely furnished room and sat on one end of a red brocade sofa. Jamison took his place in a large armchair on her left. She looked up at Tamani, who stood, hesitating. He glanced at the spot beside her, then – changing his mind, or perhaps losing his nerve – stood against the wall and folded his hands in front of him.

Yasmine lingered in the doorway.

Jamison looked up. “Yasmine, thank you for escorting my guests. We have a great deal of training tomorrow. The sun has nearly set and I don’t want you exhausted.”

Laurel saw the beginnings of a pout form on Yasmine’s lips, but at the last second she pulled it back. “Of course, Jamison,” she said politely, then slowly withdrew, sneaking one last peek before disappearing round the corner. In that moment Laurel was sharply reminded that, in spite of being powerful and revered, Yasmine was still only a child – and so was Laurel, especially to someone as ancient and wise as Jamison.

“So,” Jamison said once Yasmine’s footsteps had faded, “what can I do for you?”

“Well,” Laurel said shyly, increasingly certain that her actions back at the gate had been rash and unjustified. “It’s important,” she blurted finally, “but I don’t know that it justifies all this,” she said, gesturing to the grandeur surrounding them.

“Better overprepared than overconfident,” Jamison said. “Now tell me.”

Laurel nodded, trying to stifle her sudden rush of nerves. “It’s Klea,” she began. “She’s back.”

“I did expect that,” Jamison nodded. “Surely you didn’t think we’d seen the end of her?”

“I didn’t know,” Laurel said defensively. “I thought maybe—“ She cut herself off. That wasn’t the point. She cleared her throat and straightened. “She brought someone with her. A faerie.”

This time Jamison’s eyes widened and he glanced at Tamani. Tamani met the old faerie’s gaze, but said nothing, and after a moment Jamison returned his attention to Laurel. “Go on.”

Laurel related Klea’s story – how Yuki was found as a seedling, how trolls had killed her parents. “Klea asked me to keep an eye on her. To be her friend, I guess. Because she knows I managed to escape from the trolls before.”

“Klea,” Jamison said softly. He looked at Laurel. “What does she look like?”

“Uh. . . she’s tall. She has short auburn hair. She’s thin, but not skinny. She wears a lot of black,” Laurel finished with a shrug.

Jamison was studying her, unblinking – a tingling sensation made her forehead warm. It was so subtle that Laurel wondered if it was just her imagination. After a moment his gaze grew unnerving, but as Laurel turned to Tamani for guidance, Jamison straightened and sighed. “Never was my particular talent,” he murmured, sounding disappointed.

Laurel touched her forehead. It felt cool. “What did you just—”

“Do come sit,” Jamison said, turning away from her question to address Tamani. “I feel I have to shout with you standing so far away.”

Swiftly, but with a jerkiness that spoke of reluctance, Tamani pushed away from the wall and took a seat beside Laurel.

“Any sign this faerie has hostile intentions?” Jamison asked.

“No. Actually, she seems rather shy. Reserved,” Tamani said.

“Any outward signs of power?”

“Not that I’ve observed,” Tamani said. “Klea claims Yuki doesn’t have any abilities beyond being a plant. She called her a dryad, but we have no way of knowing whether that’s a ruse.”

“Is there any reason for us to believe this wild faerie is a threat to Laurel or to Avalon?”

“Well, no, not yet, but – at any point –” Tamani stopped talking and Laurel saw him fix his jaw the way he always did when he was trying to put his emotions in check. “No, sir,” he said.

“All right then.” Jamison stood, and Laurel and Tamani rose to their feet in response. Tamani started to turn and Jamison stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not saying you were wrong to come, Tam.”

Tamani looked at Jamison, his expression guarded, and Laurel felt guilt smoulder inside her – after all, she was the one who had been so insistent. She had wanted Jamison’s advice so badly.

“We could not have foreseen this turn of events. But,” Jamison said, raising one finger, “you may find that less has changed than you think. You already saw Klea as a possible threat to Laurel’s safety, did you not?”

Tamani nodded silently.

“So perhaps this Yuki is as well. But,” he continued, his tone intense, “if that is the case, then the place you need to be – the place you must be – is at Laurel’s side in Crescent City. Not here.” Jamison placed both hands on Tamani’s shoulders and Tamani’s gaze fell to the floor. “Be confident, Tam. You have always had a sharp mind and keen intuition. Use it. Decide what needs to be done, and do it. I gave you that authority when I sent you.”

Tamani’s head bobbed up and down, an infinitesimal nod.

Laurel wanted to speak up, to tell Jamison it was her fault, not Tamani’s, but her voice died in her throat. She wished, strangely, that they hadn’t come at all. Being reprimanded, even gently, had to be difficult enough without an audience to compound his embarrassment. She wanted to say something, to defend him – but she couldn’t find the words.

“I do have one suggestion,” Jamison said as he guided them back towards the large double doors that led to the foyer. “It would be wise to discern this wildflower’s caste – as a precaution, but also in case she can be of use to you.”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to Laurel. Whatever Klea was doing, if they could win Yuki over, perhaps she could be the key to unlocking Klea’s secrets. But if she’s too young to blossom—

Before Laurel could voice her question, Jamison turned to address her. “Discovering her powers could be difficult. A stop at the Academy, to consult with your professors, might be in order. Then back to California,” he said firmly. “I don’t like the idea of you so far from your sentries after sunset. But a quick visit should still get you back to the gate in plenty of time. I know it is later here,” he added, gesturing to a picture window that looked out on a black, velvety sky with stars beginning to appear.

Jamison escorted them through the gilded doors – which opened wide without so much as a flick of his wrist – and all the way down to the foyer. It was mostly empty now, soft phosphorescing flowers beaming dimly throughout the capacious room. Jamison’s entourage of Am fear-faire, however, were ready and waiting. They closed in round him as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yasmine has gone to bed,” Jamison said as they crossed beneath a dragon-arched entryway, “so I will open the gate for you.” He laughed. “But these old stems move much slower than your young ones. You go down to the Academy. I will head to the Gate Garden and we will meet there in a short while.”

Laurel and Tamani left the courtyard some fifty paces ahead of Jamison. As soon as they were out of earshot Laurel slowed her steps, falling back to share the broad pathway with Tamani. “I should have told him this was my idea,” she blurted.

“It wasn’t your idea,” Tamani said quietly. “It was mine, earlier this week.”

“Yeah, but I was the one who pushed it and got us in today. I let Jamison scold you and he should have been scolding me.”

“Please,” Tamani said with a grin on his face, “I’d take a scolding for you any day and call it a privilege.”

Laurel looked away flustered, and hurried her pace. Moving downhill helped the walk go quickly and soon the lights of the Academy came into view through the darkness, guiding their steps. Laurel looked up at the imposing grey structure and a smile spread across her face.

When had the Academy started to look like home?

Chapter Eight

While the Winter Palace slumbered, the Academy hummed along, both students and staff. If nothing else, there was always someone working on a mixture that had to be cured by starlight. As they walked toward the staircase Laurel waved at a few faeries she knew and their eyes widened upon seeing her. But true to their carefully honed discipline, they returned to their projects without comment and left Laurel and Tamani alone.

As soon as Laurel’s foot touched the bottom step, a tall female faerie scuttled over to them. She was dressed in the unassuming clothes of the Spring staff. “I’m sorry, but it’s far past visiting hours. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Laurel looked over in surprise. “I’m Laurel Sewell,” she said.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go up, Laurelsule,” the faerie said firmly, squishing Laurel’s first and last name together.

“I’m Laurel. Sewell. Apprentice. I’m going up to my room.”

The faerie’s eyes widened and she immediately bowed at the waist. “My most abject apologies. I’ve never seen you before. I didn’t recognise—”

“Please,” Laurel said, cutting her off. “It’s fine. We’ll be done soon and then I’ll be gone again.”

The faerie looked mortified. “I hope I didn’t offend you – there’s no reason you can’t stay!”

Laurel forced herself to smile warmly at the faerie – surely a new Spring, worried about being demoted from her position. “Oh, no, it wasn’t you at all. I’m needed back at my post.” She hesitated. “Could you. . . could you alert Yeardley that I am here? I need to speak to him.”

“In your room?” the faerie clarified, eager to please.

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

The faerie dropped into a deep curtsy – first to Laurel and then to Tamani – before hurrying off towards the staff quarters.

Tamani wore a strange expression as Laurel led him upstairs and down the hall. A smile blossomed on her face when she saw the curlicues of her name engraved on her familiar cherry door. She turned the well-oiled doorknob – that neither had nor needed a lock – and entered her room.

Everything was just as she’d left it, though she knew the staff must come in to dust regularly. Even the hairbrush she’d forgotten was still lying in the middle of her bed. Laurel picked it up with a grin and thought about bringing it back with her, but decided to tuck it away instead. A spare. After all, she’d bought another one when she got home.

She looked around for Tamani. He was lingering in the doorway.

“Well, come in,” she said. “You should know by now that I don’t bite.”

He looked up at her then shook his head. “I’ll wait here.”

“No, you won’t,” Laurel said sternly. “When Yeardley comes I’ll have to close the door so we don’t wake the other students. If you’re not in here you’ll miss the entire conversation.”

At that Tamani went ahead and entered her room, but he left the door open and stayed within arm’s reach of the door frame. Laurel shook her head ruefully as she walked over and closed the door. She paused, hand on the knob, and looked up at Tamani. “I’ve been meaning to apologise for the way I acted earlier,” she said softly.

Tamani looked confused. “What do you mean? I told you, I don’t care if Jamison blames me, I—”

“Not that,” Laurel said, looking down at her hands. “Pulling rank at the land. Snapping at you, acting lofty. That’s all it was, an act. None of the other sentries were going to take me seriously if I didn’t act like a pain-in-the-ass Mixer with a superiority complex.” She hesitated. “So I did. But it was all fake. I don’t – I don’t think that way. You know that; I hope you know that. I don’t approve of other fae thinking that way either and – anyway, that’s an argument with no end.” She took a breath. “The point is, I’m sorry. I never meant it.”

“It’s fine,” Tamani mumbled. “I need to be reminded of my place now and again.”

“Tamani, no,” Laurel said. “Not with me. I can’t change the way the rest of Avalon treats you – not yet, anyway. But with me, you are never just a Spring faerie,” she said, touching his arm.

He looked up at her, but only for a second before his eyes focused on the ground again, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“Tam, what? What’s wrong?”

He met her eyes. “The Spring faerie down there, she didn’t know what I was. She just knew I was with you and I guess she assumed I was a Mixer too.” He hesitated. “She bowed to me, Laurel. Bowing is what I do. It was weird. I – I kinda liked it,” he admitted. He continued on, his confession spilling out with gathering momentum. “For just those few seconds, I wasn’t a Spring faerie. She didn’t look at a sentry uniform and immediately put me in my place. It – it felt good. And bad,” he tacked on. “All at the same time. It felt like—” His words were cut off by a soft knock at the door.

Disappointment flooded through Laurel as their conversation was cut short. “That’ll be Yeardley,” she said softly. Tamani nodded and took his place against the wall.

Laurel opened the door and was assaulted by a mass of pink silk. “I thought I heard you!” Katya squealed, throwing her arms round Laurel’s neck. “And I could hardly believe it. You didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon.”

“I didn’t know myself,” Laurel said, grinning. It was impossible not to smile around Katya. She was wearing a silky, sleeveless nightgown, its back cut low to accommodate the blossom Katya would have in another month or so. She had grown her blonde hair down to her shoulders, which made her look even younger.

“Either way, I’m glad you’re here. How long can you stay?”

Laurel smiled apologetically. “Just a few minutes, I’m afraid. Yeardley is on his way up, and once I’m done speaking with him I need to get back to the gate.”

“But it’s dark,” Katya protested. “You should at least stay the night.”

“It’s still afternoon in California,” Laurel said. “I really do need to get home.”

Katya grinned playfully. “I guess if you must.” She looked at Tamani, her eyes a touch flirtatious. “Who’s your friend?”

Laurel reached out to touch Tamani’s shoulder, prompting him to step forward a little. “This is Tamani.”

To Laurel’s dismay, Tamani immediately dropped into a respectful bow.

“Oh,” Katya said, realisation dawning on her. “Your soldier friend from Samhain, right?”

“Sentry,” Laurel corrected.

“Yes, that,” Katya said dismissively. She grabbed both of Laurel’s hands and didn’t give Tamani another look. “Now come over here and tell me what in the world you are wearing.”

Laurel laughed and allowed Katya to feel the stiff fabric of her denim skirt, but she shot Tamani an apologetic grimace. Not that it mattered; he was back to standing against the wall and averting his eyes.

Katya flounced down on the bed, the silken folds of her nightgown tracing her graceful curves, its low back revealing so much perfect skin. It made Laurel feel plain in her cotton tank top and skirt, and inspired a fleeting wish that she hadn’t brought Tamani upstairs. But she brushed the thought aside and joined her friend. Katya prattled on about inconsequential things that had happened in the Academy since Laurel’s departure only last month, and Laurel smiled. Just over a year ago, she wouldn’t have believed that the daunting, unfamiliar Academy was somewhere she might laugh and talk with a friend. But then, she had felt the same way about public school the year before that.

Things change, she told herself. Including me.

Katya sobered suddenly and reached out to place her fingertips on each side of Laurel’s face. “You look happy again,” Katya said.

“Do I?” Laurel asked.

Katya nodded. “Don’t mistake me,” she said, in that formal way Katya had, “it was lovely to have you here this summer, but you were sad.” She paused. “I didn’t want to pry. But you’re happy again. I’m glad.”

Laurel was silent – surprised. Had she been sad? She ventured a glance at Tamani, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

A sharp rap sounded at the door and Laurel jumped off her bed and hurried to open it. There stood Yeardley, tall and imposing, wearing only a loose pair of drawstring breeches. His arms were folded across his bare chest and, as usual, he wasn’t wearing shoes.

“Laurel, you asked for me?” His tone was stern, but there was warmth in his eyes. After two summers of working together he seemed to have grown a soft spot for her. Not that you could tell by the amount of class work he gave her. He was – above all else – a demanding tutor.

“Yes,” Laurel answered quickly. “Please come in.”

Yeardley walked to the centre of the room and Laurel began to shut the door.

“Do you need me to leave?” Katya asked quietly. Laurel looked down at her friend. “No – no, I don’t think so,” Laurel said, glancing at Tamani. “It’s really not a secret; not here, anyway.”

Tamani met her eyes. There was tension in his face, and Laurel half expected him to contradict her, but after a moment he looked away and shrugged. She turned back to Yeardley.

“I need a way to test a faerie’s, um, season.” Laurel would not use the word caste. Not in front of Tamani. Preferably not ever.

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

Yeardley shrugged, nonchalant. “Watch for her blossom. Or for pollen production on males in the vicinity.”

“What about a faerie who hasn’t blossomed yet?”

“You can go to the records room – it’s just downstairs – and look her up.”

“Not here,” Laurel said. “In California.”

Yeardley’s eyes narrowed. “A faerie in the human world? Besides yourself, and your entourage?”

Laurel nodded.

“Unseelie?”

The Unseelie were still a mystery to Laurel. No one would talk about them directly, but she had gathered from bits and pieces that they all lived in an isolated community outside one of the gates. “I don’t think so. But there is some. . . confusion regarding her history, so we can’t be sure.”

“And she doesn’t know what season she is?”

Laurel hesitated. “If she does, it’s not something I can ask her.”

Comprehension dawned on Yeardley’s face. “Ah, I see.” He sighed and pressed his fingers against his lips, contemplating. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask for such a thing. Have you, Katya?”

When Katya shook her head, Yeardley continued. “We keep meticulous records of every seedling in Avalon, so this problem presents a unique challenge. But there must be something. Perhaps you could formulate a potion of your own?”

“Am I ready for that?” Laurel asked hopefully.

“Almost certainly not,” Yeardley said in his most matter-of-fact tone. “But practice needn’t always lead to success, after all. I think it would be good for you to begin learning the basic concepts of fabrication. And this seems a fine place to start. An identification powder, like Cyoan,” he said, referencing a simple powder that identified humans and non-humans. “Except you would have to figure out what separates the castes on a cellular level, and I’m unaware of much research in that area. It simply doesn’t lead anywhere.”

“What about thylakoid membranes?” Katya asked softly. As one, they all turned to face her.

“What was that?” Yeardley asked.

“Thylakoid membranes,” Katya continued, a little louder this time. “In the chloroplasm. The thylakoid membranes of Sparklers are more efficient. For lighting their illusions.”

Yeardley cocked his head to the side. “Really?”

Katya nodded. “When I was younger we sometimes stole the phosphorescing serums for the lamps and. . . um. . . drank them. It would make us glow in the dark,” she said, lowering her lashes as she related the childish antic. “I. . . had a Summer friend, and she did it with us one day. But instead of glowing for one night, she glowed for three days. It took me years to figure out why.”

“Excellent, Katya,” Yeardley said, a distinct note of pleasure in his voice. “I would like to discuss that more fully with you in the classroom sometime this week.”

Katya nodded eagerly.

Yeardley turned back to Laurel. “It’s a start. Focus on plants with phosphorescing qualities that could show evidence of a more efficient thylakoid, and try to repeat the kind of reaction you get with Cyoan powder. I will work personally with Katya, here at the Academy.”

“But what if she’s not a Summer faerie?”

“Then you would be twenty-five per cent closer to your goal, would you not?”

Laurel nodded. “I need to write this down,” she said, not wanting to admit to Yeardley that she had no idea what Katya was talking about. But David probably would. Laurel grabbed a few note cards from her desk where – after last summer – the staff always kept them stocked, and sat by Katya. Katya spoke quietly as Laurel wrote down the basics and fervently hoped that the biological terminology was the same in Avalon as the human world.

“Experiment when you can, and we’ll see what Katya and I can come up with here,” Yeardley said. “I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you tonight. Glad to see you again, Laurel.”

Stifling her disappointment, Laurel smiled after Yeardley as he left the room, closing the door behind him. After the near-fit she’d thrown getting here, the whole visit felt very unproductive.

“Did you hear that?” Katya said, her voice low but excited. “He’s going to work with me personally. I’m part of your entourage now,” she added, taking Laurel’s hand. “I am going to help with a potion that might be used in the human world. I’m so excited!”

She grabbed Laurel’s shoulder, pulled her in, and kissed both cheeks quickly before darting towards the door. “Next time you’re here,” she said, poking her head back through the doorway, “come see me first, OK?” She clicked the door shut behind her, leaving the room feeling quiet and empty.

“We’d better hurry,” Laurel said to Tamani, walking past him without looking him in the face. She didn’t want him to see her discouragement.

After a short and silent walk back to the gateway, they approached Jamison’s circle of Am fear-faire, all standing at attention, but Jamison did not stir from his quiet conversation with Shar. After a few seconds, both men nodded, then looked up at Laurel and Tamani.

“Did your visit to the Academy bear fruit?” Jamison asked.

“Not yet, but hopefully soon,” Laurel replied.

“Are you ready then?” Jamison asked.

They nodded and Jamison reached out for the gate. As it swung open he looked first at Shar, then at Tamani. “The Huntress and the Wildflower should be watched closely, but do not let them consume your attention. What remains of Barnes’s horde will surely be looking for an opportunity to strike. If you need anything – reinforcements, supplies, anything – you have but to ask.”

“We will need more sentries. For the Wildflower,” Tamani said. Here, away from the Palace and the Academy, he was confident again, speaking easily and standing tall.

“Of course,” Jamison replied. “Anything you need and more. We will keep Laurel safe, but she needs to remain in Crescent City. Especially if we are to see how these events will play out.”

Laurel was a little uncomfortable with how close that sounded to Laurel is the bait. But Tamani had never failed her before, and she had no reason to believe he would do so now.

Chapter Nine

As soon as the gate closed, Tamani turned to Shar, hoping – and doubting – that his old friend was OK. “So, did you get what you were after?”

Shar shook his head. “Not really. But I probably got what I deserved.”

Don’t be so hard on yourself, Tamani thought, but he said nothing. Never did. However difficult it was for Shar to visit Japan, Tamani doubted the experience was half as bad as the emotional torment he always put himself through afterwards.

“Who did you go to see, Shar?” Laurel asked.

Shar met her question with silence. Tamani placed a hand at the small of Laurel’s back and gently urged her to walk a little faster. Now was not the time to be asking Shar about Hokkaido.

They stopped at the edge of the woods and a grin played at the corners of Shar’s mouth. “Hurry,” he teased Tamani. “The sun will be setting soon and you have school tomorrow.”

Tamani swallowed his frustration. He hated his stupid classes and Shar knew it. “Just answer your blighting phone next time, OK?” Tamani said, getting in a parting shot.

Shar’s hand flitted to the pouch where his phone was stowed, but he said nothing.

Once he and Laurel were in the convertible, Tamani pulled back on to the highway and set his cruise control considerably lower than he had on the way to the land. The sun was still an hour from setting, the breeze was cool, and he had Laurel in the car. No need to hurry.

They travelled a way in silence before Laurel finally asked, “Where did Shar go?”

Tamani hesitated. It wasn’t really his place to spill Shar’s secrets, and technically he was only supposed to tell Laurel things she needed to know to fulfil her mission. But he preferred to think of that particular order as a strongly worded preference – and besides, it was at least plausible that the Unseelie had something to do with Yuki’s appearance. “He went to go see his mother.”

“In Hokkaido?”

Tamani nodded.

“Why does she live in Japan? Is she a sentry there?” Tamani shook his head, a tiny, sharp movement. “His mother is Unseelie.”

Laurel sighed. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“She’s been cast out,” Tamani said, trying to figure out a better way to say it – something that sounded less harsh.

“Like, an exile? That’s what Unseelie means?”

“Not. . . exactly.” Tamani bit his bottom lip and sighed. Where to begin? “Once upon a time,” he began, remembering that humans liked to start their most accurate histories this way, “there were two faerie courts. Their rivalry was. . . complicated, but it boiled down to human contact. One court was friendly to humans – the humans called them Seelie. The other court sought to dominate humans, enslave them, torment them for amusement, or kill them for sport. They were the Unseelie.

“Somewhere along the way, a rift developed in the Seelie Court. There were some fae who believed that the best thing we could do for the humans was leave them alone. Isolationists, basically.”

“Isn’t that how the fae live now?”

“Yes,” Tamani said. “But they never used to. The Seelie even made treaties with some human kingdoms – including Camelot.”

“But that failed, right?” asked Laurel. “That’s what you said at the festival last year.”

“Well, it worked for a while. In some ways the pact with Camelot was a huge success. With Arthur’s help, the Seelie drove the trolls out of Avalon for good and hunted the Unseelie practically to extinction. But eventually, things. . . fell apart.”

It pained Tamani to gloss over so much detail, but when it came to the Unseelie, it was hard to decide where one explanation ended and another began. And it would take him hours to explain everything that had gone wrong in Camelot. Especially considering that, even in Avalon, the story was ancient enough for its accuracy to be disputed. Some claimed that the memories collected in the World Tree kept their history pure, but – having conversed with the Silent Ones himself – Tamani did not think it gave answers straight enough to qualify as historical facts.

He would have to do his best with what he had.

“When the trolls overran Camelot, it was taken as final proof that even our most well-intentioned involvement with humans was doomed to end in disaster. The isolationists rose to power. Everyone else was branded Unseelie.”

“So part of the Seelie Court became the new Unseelie Court?”

Tamani frowned. “Well, there hasn’t been an Unseelie ‘Court’ in more than a thousand years. But Titania was dethroned, Oberon crowned as rightful king, and the universal decree was that, for the good of the human race, the fae would leave humans alone forever. Everyone was summoned back to Avalon, Oberon created the gates, and for the most part we’ve been isolated ever since. But the idea that faeries should meddle in human affairs – as benefactors or

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