Tamani pressed his forehead against the chilly window-pane, fighting back a wave of exhaustion. Sleep wasn’t an option, not while the only thing between him and an angry Winter faerie was a thin line of table-salt.
Tonight, he was Fear-gleidhidh twice over.
The old word was one he normally wore with pride. It marked him as Laurel’s guardian, her protector. But it had a richer meaning, one that went beyond the more traditional Am-fear-faire. Fear-gleidhidh meant warden and Tamani was charged with not only keeping Laurel safe, but making certain she accomplished the mission Avalon had given her as a child.
Now he played prison warden, too.
He looked over at his captive. Yuki’s chair sat on the scuffed linoleum in the middle of a thick circle of white, granular salt. She slept, her cheek resting on her knees, hands remained cuffed loosely behind her. She looked uncomfortable. Beaten.
Harmless.
“I would have given up everything for you.” Her voice was hushed but clear.
Not sleeping after all. And she could never be harmless, he reminded himself. The small white flower blooming from the middle of her back, marking her a Winter faerie, was proof enough of that. It had been over an hour since David cuffed her to the chair—an hour since Chelsea had exposed the irrefutable proof that she was, in fact a Winter faerie—and Tamani still hadn’t gotten used to the sight. It filled him with an icy fear he had rarely felt before.
“I was ready. That’s why I stopped you before you brought me inside.” Yuki looked up and unfolded her legs, stretching as best she could under the circumstances. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Tamani held his tongue. He had known. And for a moment he’d been tempted to let her make her confession. But it wouldn’t have ended well. Yuki would eventually have discovered that his affections were a sham, and then he would be at the mercy of a Winter faerie scorned. Better to cut the charade short.
He hoped he wasn’t deceiving himself about that. She posed a threat; he shouldn’t have felt any guilt about lying to her in the first place, much less now that he knew she’d been lying too. The power Winter faeries had over plants also made it possible for them to sense plant-life at a distance, so from the instant Yuki had met Tamani, she had known him for a faerie. Known Laurel, too. She had played them all.
So why did he still wonder whether he’d done the right thing?
“We could have been so good together, Tam,” Yuki continued, her voice silky as her rumpled silver dress, but with a malicious edge that made Tamani shiver. “Laurel’s not going to leave him for you. She may be a faerie on the outside, but inside she’s all human. David or no David, she belongs here, and you know it.”
Avoiding his captain’s eyes, Tamani turned back to the window and peered out into the darkness, pretending to look at . . . something. Anything. A sentry’s life was full of viciousness and Tamani and Shar had both seen each other take extreme measures to protect their homeland. But always against an obvious threat, a violent attacker, a proven foe. Trolls were their enemy—had always been. Winter faeries were the rulers of Avalon and though Yuki had deceived them, she’d never actually harmed them. Somehow, putting her in chains felt worse than killing a hundred trolls.
“You and me, Tam, we’re the same,” Yuki continued. “We’re being used by people who don’t care what we want or what makes us happy. We don’t belong with them; we belong together.”
Reluctantly, Tamani glanced at her again. He was surprised to see that she wasn’t looking at him as she spoke—she was staring past him, out the window, as if at some bright future she still imagined possible. Tamani knew better.
“There isn’t a door in this world that can be closed to us, Tam. If you vouched for me, we could even go peacefully to Avalon. We could stay there together and live in the palace.”
“How do you know about the palace?” Tamani asked reflexively, knowing even as he did that he was snapping at her bait. A barely audible sigh came from Shar, and Tamani wondered if it was directed at Yuki’s stupidity or his own.
“Or we could stay here,” she continued, calmly, as though Tamani hadn’t said anything. “Anywhere we wanted to go, anything we wanted to do, we could. Between your power over animals and mine over plants, the world would be ours. You know, the pairing of a Spring and Winter would work really well. Our talents complement each other perfectly.”
Tamani wondered if she understood just how right she was—or how little it tempted him.
“I would have loved you forever,” she whispered, bowing her head. Her dark, lustrous hair fell forward, veiling her face, and she sniffled quietly. Was she crying, or stifling a laugh?
Tamani startled when a knock sounded at the door. Before he could take a step, Shar moved silently to the peephole. Knife in his fist, Tamani tensed—ready. Was it Klea? That’s what everything was for—the circle, Yuki in cuffs—an elaborate trap to snare the scheming Fall faeriewho might be trying to kill them.
And might not.
If only they could know for sure.
Until they did, Tamani had to assume they were a threat—a lethal one.
But with a shimmer of a grimace Shar pulled the door open and Laurel entered the room, Chelsea close behind her.
“Laurel,” was all Tamani managed to say, his fingers falling from the knife. Even after loving Laurel for as long as he could remember, and lately becoming something . . . something more, he still felt a leap of joy every time he saw her.
She had changed out of her dark-blue formal—the one she’d worn when he held her in his arms over a year ago at the Samhain festival, when he’d kissed her so passionately. It seemed so far away.
Laurel wasn’t looking at him; she only had eyes for Yuki.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Tamani whispered.
Laurel arched one eyebrow in response. “I wanted to see for myself.”
Tamani clenched his teeth. In truth, he did want her there, but his own selfish desires were at odds with his concern for her safety. Would he ever be able to satisfy both?
“I thought you were going after David,” Tamani said to Chelsea, who was still in her deep-red formal. She’d ditched her heels somewhere, so the bottom of the dress pooled at her feet like blood.
“I couldn’t find him,” Chelsea said, her lip quivering almost imperceptibly. She looked at Laurel, who was still studying their silent prisoner.
“Yuki?” Laurel said tentatively. “Are you okay?”
Yuki looked up, glaring at Laurel with steel and fury. “Do I look okay to you? I’ve been abducted! I’m handcuffed to a metal chair! How would you be?”
The Winter faerie’s venomous tone seemed to hit Laurel like a breaking wave and she took a step backward. “I came to check on you.” Laurel glanced at Tamani, but Tamani wasn’t sure what she wanted. Encouragement? Permission? He offered her a pained grimace and a tiny, helpless shrug.
Laurel turned back to Yuki, the Winter faerie’s expression unreadable, her chin held high. “What does Klea want from me?” Laurel asked.
Tamani didn’t expect her to answer, but Yuki met Laurel’s gaze and simply said, “Nothing.”
“Then why did you come?”
Yuki smiled now, a crooked, mischievous smile. “I didn’t say she never wanted anything. But she doesn’t need you anymore.”
Laurel’s eyes darted to Tamani, then to Shar, before returning to Yuki.
“Laurel, listen,” Yuki said, her voice quiet, comforting. “This whole charade is completely unnecessary. I’ll talk to you if you just get me out of here.”
“That’s enough,” Tamani said.
“Step in here and shut me up,” Yuki said, glaring at Tamani before turning back to Laurel. “I’ve never done anything to hurt you and you know I could have. I could have killed you a million times, but I didn’t. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
Tamani opened his mouth, but Laurel laid a hand on his chest, silencing him. “You’re right. But you’re a Winter faerie. You hid that, even though you had to know about us. Why?”
“Why do you think? The moment your soldier friends found out what I was, they chained me to a chair!”
Tamani hated that she was right—that Laurel wouldn’t be able to deny it.
“Okay, well, maybe we just need to start over,” Laurel said. “If we can all figure this out before Klea shows up, even better. If you could just tell us—”
“Tamani has the keys,” Yuki said, looking over at him, malice gleaming in her eyes. “Let me out of here, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“No deal,” Tamani said, doing his best to sound bored.
Laurel spoke to Yuki again, cutting them off. “It’s probably safest for everyone if—”
“No!” Yuki shouted. “I can’t believe you’re even a part of this! After what they did to you? To your parents?”
Tamani frowned; what did Laurel’s parents have to do with anything?
But Laurel was already shaking her head. “Yuki, I don’t like that they made me forget. But I can’t change the past—”
“Forget? I’m not talking about memory elixirs. What about the poison?”
“Oh, come on—” Tamani blurted.
Laurel shushed him. “Yuki, do you know who poisoned my father?”
Tamani was pretty certain of the answer, and he knew Laurel was too—it had to have been Klea. But if Laurel could convince Yuki to confirm their suspicions . . .
“Your father?” Yuki looked confused. “Why would they poison your father? I’m talking about your mother.”
Again Laurel looked at Tamani, and he shook his head with a tiny shrug. What was Yuki playing at?
“You don’t even know, do you? Big coincidence that the couple who happened to own the land around the gate just happened to be childless—waiting for a little blonde baby to pop into their lives. How . . . convenient. Wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s enough,” Tamani said sharply. He should have guessed; more games. Yuki was just looking for ways to get them doubting themselves—and each other.
“They did that,” Yuki said. “Fifteen years before you even showed up on their doorstep, the faeries made sure your mother was baby-hungry enough to take you without question. They damaged her, Laurel. Made sure she could never have her own children. They ruined her life and you’re siding with them.”
“Don’t listen to her, Laurel. It’s not true,” Tamani said. “She’s just trying to get into your head.”
“Am I? Why don’t we ask him?”
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