Wild

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.