“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 traveled 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.
“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 traveled 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.
