Wild

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.