Laurel felt a little sick to her stomach. She probably didn’t want to know what Aaron had been about to say.
“But I would have come regardless,” Tamani continued. “Even before you told Shar about the lighthouse, Jamison wanted to send me to find out more about Barnes’s horde,” Tamani said. “His death gave us some peace, but a troll like him would have lieutenants, or commanders. I think it’s safe to assume this is merely the calm before the storm.”
Fear was gnawing at her insides now. It was a feeling Laurel had grown used to living without and she wasn’t happy with its sudden return.
“You also gave Klea four sleeping trolls, and it’s probably too much to hope that they simply woke up, killed her, and got on with their lives. It’s possible she interrogated them and found out about you, maybe about the gate.”
Laurel snapped to attention, feeling panicked. “Interrogated? The way she talked, I figured she would just . . . kill them. Dissect them. I didn’t even—”
“It’s okay,” Tamani said. “You did the best you knew how, under the circumstances. You’re not a sentry. Maybe Klea did kill them outright; trying to interrogate them would be suicidal for most humans. And we don’t know how much Barnes told his lackeys, either. Still, we have to prepare for the worst. If these troll hunters decide to become faerie hunters, then you could be in more danger than ever. Jamison wanted to address these new developments, so he changed the plan slightly.”
“Slightly,” Laurel echoed, feeling suddenly weary. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She felt Tamani’s arm slip around her.
“Listen,” Tamani said to Aaron, “I’m going to take her inside. I think we’re done here.”
A soft nudge brought Laurel to her feet and she headed toward her house without saying good-bye. She walked quickly, pulling away from Tamani’s hand, wanting both to put distance between them and exert her independence.
What was left of it, anyway.
She pushed through the back door, leaving it open for Tamani, and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the first piece of fruit she saw.
“Do you mind if I have another one?” Tamani asked. “The one you gave me really helped.”
Wordlessly Laurel handed him the fruit, realizing she had no appetite for it.
“What’s wrong?” Tamani asked at last.
“I’m not really sure,” Laurel said, avoiding his eyes. “Everything is just so . . . crazy. I mean”—she looked up at him now—“I’m so glad you’re back. I really am.”
“Good,” Tamani said, his smile a little shaky. “I was starting to wonder there.”
“But then you tell me I’m in all this danger and suddenly I’m afraid for my life again. No offense, but it kind of overshadows the happiness.”
“Shar wanted to send someone else and just not tell you, but I thought you’d rather know. Even if it meant . . . well, all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely.
Laurel considered. Something inside her insisted it was better this way, but she wasn’t so sure. “How much danger am I really in?”
“We’re not sure.” Tamani hesitated. “There’s definitely something going on. I’ve been here only a few days, but the things I’ve seen . . . Are you familiar with tracking serums?”
“Sure. They change color, right? To show how old a trail is? I can’t make them yet—”
“No need. We have batches specially made for tracking trolls and humans. I poured some in a fresh track and it didn’t react at all.”
“So, none of your magic works?” Laurel asked, her throat tightening.
“It appears that way,” Tamani admitted.
“You’re not making me feel any safer,” Laurel said, trying to inject some humor with a smile. But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Tamani insisted. “We don’t need magic—it just makes things easier. We’re doing everything we can to patrol the area. We’re not taking any chances.” He paused. “The problem is that we don’t actually know what we’re up against. We don’t know how many there are, what they’re up to, nothing.”
“So you’re here to tell me I have to be super-careful again,” Laurel said, knowing she should feel gratitude instead of resentment. “Stay at home, sundown is Cinderella time, all that?”
“No,” Tamani said quietly, surprising her. “I’m not here to tell you anything like that. I don’t do patrols, I don’t go hunting, I just stick close to you. You live your life and continue with all of your normal activities. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, stepping forward to sweep a lock of hair back from her face. “Or die trying.”
Laurel stood frozen, knowing he meant every word. He misread her stillness as an invitation and leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek.
“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath light on her face. A gentle sigh escaped Laurel’s lips before she could stop it and as Tamani drew nearer her eyes began to close on their own.
“Nothing’s changed,” she forced herself to whisper, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers. “I made my choice.”
His hand stilled, but she sensed the slightest tremor at his fingertips. She watched him swallow once before smiling wanly and pulling back.
“But I would have come regardless,” Tamani continued. “Even before you told Shar about the lighthouse, Jamison wanted to send me to find out more about Barnes’s horde,” Tamani said. “His death gave us some peace, but a troll like him would have lieutenants, or commanders. I think it’s safe to assume this is merely the calm before the storm.”
Fear was gnawing at her insides now. It was a feeling Laurel had grown used to living without and she wasn’t happy with its sudden return.
“You also gave Klea four sleeping trolls, and it’s probably too much to hope that they simply woke up, killed her, and got on with their lives. It’s possible she interrogated them and found out about you, maybe about the gate.”
Laurel snapped to attention, feeling panicked. “Interrogated? The way she talked, I figured she would just . . . kill them. Dissect them. I didn’t even—”
“It’s okay,” Tamani said. “You did the best you knew how, under the circumstances. You’re not a sentry. Maybe Klea did kill them outright; trying to interrogate them would be suicidal for most humans. And we don’t know how much Barnes told his lackeys, either. Still, we have to prepare for the worst. If these troll hunters decide to become faerie hunters, then you could be in more danger than ever. Jamison wanted to address these new developments, so he changed the plan slightly.”
“Slightly,” Laurel echoed, feeling suddenly weary. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She felt Tamani’s arm slip around her.
“Listen,” Tamani said to Aaron, “I’m going to take her inside. I think we’re done here.”
A soft nudge brought Laurel to her feet and she headed toward her house without saying good-bye. She walked quickly, pulling away from Tamani’s hand, wanting both to put distance between them and exert her independence.
What was left of it, anyway.
She pushed through the back door, leaving it open for Tamani, and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the first piece of fruit she saw.
“Do you mind if I have another one?” Tamani asked. “The one you gave me really helped.”
Wordlessly Laurel handed him the fruit, realizing she had no appetite for it.
“What’s wrong?” Tamani asked at last.
“I’m not really sure,” Laurel said, avoiding his eyes. “Everything is just so . . . crazy. I mean”—she looked up at him now—“I’m so glad you’re back. I really am.”
“Good,” Tamani said, his smile a little shaky. “I was starting to wonder there.”
“But then you tell me I’m in all this danger and suddenly I’m afraid for my life again. No offense, but it kind of overshadows the happiness.”
“Shar wanted to send someone else and just not tell you, but I thought you’d rather know. Even if it meant . . . well, all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely.
Laurel considered. Something inside her insisted it was better this way, but she wasn’t so sure. “How much danger am I really in?”
“We’re not sure.” Tamani hesitated. “There’s definitely something going on. I’ve been here only a few days, but the things I’ve seen . . . Are you familiar with tracking serums?”
“Sure. They change color, right? To show how old a trail is? I can’t make them yet—”
“No need. We have batches specially made for tracking trolls and humans. I poured some in a fresh track and it didn’t react at all.”
“So, none of your magic works?” Laurel asked, her throat tightening.
“It appears that way,” Tamani admitted.
“You’re not making me feel any safer,” Laurel said, trying to inject some humor with a smile. But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Tamani insisted. “We don’t need magic—it just makes things easier. We’re doing everything we can to patrol the area. We’re not taking any chances.” He paused. “The problem is that we don’t actually know what we’re up against. We don’t know how many there are, what they’re up to, nothing.”
“So you’re here to tell me I have to be super-careful again,” Laurel said, knowing she should feel gratitude instead of resentment. “Stay at home, sundown is Cinderella time, all that?”
“No,” Tamani said quietly, surprising her. “I’m not here to tell you anything like that. I don’t do patrols, I don’t go hunting, I just stick close to you. You live your life and continue with all of your normal activities. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, stepping forward to sweep a lock of hair back from her face. “Or die trying.”
Laurel stood frozen, knowing he meant every word. He misread her stillness as an invitation and leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek.
“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath light on her face. A gentle sigh escaped Laurel’s lips before she could stop it and as Tamani drew nearer her eyes began to close on their own.
“Nothing’s changed,” she forced herself to whisper, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers. “I made my choice.”
His hand stilled, but she sensed the slightest tremor at his fingertips. She watched him swallow once before smiling wanly and pulling back.
