Wild

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.”