Tamani was waiting for her, not at the edge of the tree line, but right up in the yard of the small cabin. He was leaning against the front gate, a long black cloak hanging from his shoulders, his knee-length breeches tucked into tall, black boots. Her breathing quickened at the sight of him.
Not for the first time, Laurel wondered if coming today had been a mistake. It’s not too late to change my mind.
As Laurel approached, Tamani stood motionless, his eyes following her. He didn’t speak until she stopped in front of him, close enough that he could have reached out and pulled her to him if he tried.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said, his voice breaking a little, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. As if he had stood out in the cold all night, waiting for her.
Maybe he had.
She could leave. Tamani would forgive her. Eventually. She looked up at him. There was something wary in his demeanor, like he could sense she was on the verge of turning back.
A gust of wind burst through the trees and brushed Tamani’s hair across his eyes. He lifted one hand and tucked the long strands behind his ear. For just a second, as his forearm crossed over his face, his eyes dropped, scanning the length of her from head to toe—something he almost never did. And in that split second, something felt different. Laurel wasn’t sure just what.
“To Avalon?” Tamani beckoned toward the trees as his hand pressed, gently, against the small of Laurel’s back. She was approaching the point of no return; some part of her sensed it.
She looked at Tamani; she looked at the trees.
Then she stepped forward and crossed the line.
The streets of Avalon were teeming with faeries. Even with Tamani carefully guiding her, it was a little difficult to wade through the crowd.
“What exactly do you do at a festival?” Laurel asked, ducking around a tight circle of faeries conversing in the middle of the street.
“It depends. Today we’re going to the Grande Theatre in Summer to see a ballet. Afterward we’ll all gather on the common green where there will be music, food, and dancing.” He hesitated. “Then everyone will stay or disperse as they choose and the revelries will continue until everyone is satisfied and returns to their usual pursuits. This way,” he said, pointing up a gentle hill.
As they climbed, the coliseum slowly came into view. Unlike the Academy, which was mostly stone, or the homes of the Summer faeries, which were glass, the walls of the coliseum were living trees, like the one where Tamani’s mother lived. But instead of being round and hollow, these black-barked trees were stretched and flattened, overlapping one another to form a solid wooden wall at least fifty feet high topped with dense foliage. Bolts of brightly colored silk, brilliantly painted murals, and statues of marble and granite adorned the walls almost haphazardly, lending a festive atmosphere to the massive structure.
Laurel’s awe was dampened when they found themselves near the end of a long line of faeries waiting to enter the coliseum. All were smartly dressed, though Laurel didn’t see anyone else in clothing as fine as hers. Dressed wrong again. She sighed and turned to Tamani. “This is going to take ages.”
Tamani shook his head. “That’s not your entrance.” He pointed to the right of the line and continued guiding her through the crowd. They came to a small archway in the coliseum’s walls, about fifty feet from the main entrance. Two tall guards in deep blue uniforms stood on either side of the door.
“Laurel Sewell,” Tamani said quietly to the guards.
One glanced at Laurel before his eyes swung back to Tamani. For some reason he looked up and down Tamani’s arms before speaking. “Am fear-faire for a Fall?”
“Fear-gleidhidh,” Tamani corrected, glancing uncomfortably at Laurel. “I’m Tamani de Rhoslyn. Hecate’s eye, man, I said this is Laurel Sewell.”
The guard straightened a little and nodded at his partner, who opened the door. “You may pass.”
“Fear-glide?” Laurel asked, knowing even as the phrase came out of her mouth that she was butchering it. She remembered Jamison’s explanation of Am fear-faire earlier in the summer, but this was something new.
“It means I’m your…escort,” Tamani said, furrowing his brow. “When I gave him your human surname, I assumed he’d realize who you were and not make a fuss. But he clearly never trained at the manor.”
“The manor?” How did every conversation with Tamani turn into a crash course in faerie culture?
“Not now,” Tamani replied gently. “It’s not important.”
And indeed, as Laurel surveyed the interior of the expansive coliseum, all questions evaporated from her mind and she gasped in delight.
The coliseum walls had been grown around a steeply inclined depression in the top of the hill. She stood now on an expansive mezzanine, an outgrowth of tightly woven branches that extended from the coliseum’s living walls. Except for three ornate golden chairs on a dais at the center of the mezzanine, all the seats were wooden, cushioned in red silk and complete with armrests that grew seamlessly from the floor. They had clearly been arranged with attention to view rather than the most efficient seating capacity.
Fifty feet away, Laurel saw faeries crowding through the main entrance and descending into the ground floor, which was little more than a grassy hillside. There was no seating below the mezzanine, but faeries crowded together amicably, jostling to get as close as they could to the biggest stage Laurel had ever seen. It was draped in silky white curtains that glittered with thousands of crystals that swung gently in the breeze, casting rainbows over the entire theater. From above, sunlight poured through a thin canopy of gauzy material that billowed and waved with the wind. It softened the glare of the sun without blocking out its beneficial rays.
Not for the first time, Laurel wondered if coming today had been a mistake. It’s not too late to change my mind.
As Laurel approached, Tamani stood motionless, his eyes following her. He didn’t speak until she stopped in front of him, close enough that he could have reached out and pulled her to him if he tried.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said, his voice breaking a little, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. As if he had stood out in the cold all night, waiting for her.
Maybe he had.
She could leave. Tamani would forgive her. Eventually. She looked up at him. There was something wary in his demeanor, like he could sense she was on the verge of turning back.
A gust of wind burst through the trees and brushed Tamani’s hair across his eyes. He lifted one hand and tucked the long strands behind his ear. For just a second, as his forearm crossed over his face, his eyes dropped, scanning the length of her from head to toe—something he almost never did. And in that split second, something felt different. Laurel wasn’t sure just what.
“To Avalon?” Tamani beckoned toward the trees as his hand pressed, gently, against the small of Laurel’s back. She was approaching the point of no return; some part of her sensed it.
She looked at Tamani; she looked at the trees.
Then she stepped forward and crossed the line.
The streets of Avalon were teeming with faeries. Even with Tamani carefully guiding her, it was a little difficult to wade through the crowd.
“What exactly do you do at a festival?” Laurel asked, ducking around a tight circle of faeries conversing in the middle of the street.
“It depends. Today we’re going to the Grande Theatre in Summer to see a ballet. Afterward we’ll all gather on the common green where there will be music, food, and dancing.” He hesitated. “Then everyone will stay or disperse as they choose and the revelries will continue until everyone is satisfied and returns to their usual pursuits. This way,” he said, pointing up a gentle hill.
As they climbed, the coliseum slowly came into view. Unlike the Academy, which was mostly stone, or the homes of the Summer faeries, which were glass, the walls of the coliseum were living trees, like the one where Tamani’s mother lived. But instead of being round and hollow, these black-barked trees were stretched and flattened, overlapping one another to form a solid wooden wall at least fifty feet high topped with dense foliage. Bolts of brightly colored silk, brilliantly painted murals, and statues of marble and granite adorned the walls almost haphazardly, lending a festive atmosphere to the massive structure.
Laurel’s awe was dampened when they found themselves near the end of a long line of faeries waiting to enter the coliseum. All were smartly dressed, though Laurel didn’t see anyone else in clothing as fine as hers. Dressed wrong again. She sighed and turned to Tamani. “This is going to take ages.”
Tamani shook his head. “That’s not your entrance.” He pointed to the right of the line and continued guiding her through the crowd. They came to a small archway in the coliseum’s walls, about fifty feet from the main entrance. Two tall guards in deep blue uniforms stood on either side of the door.
“Laurel Sewell,” Tamani said quietly to the guards.
One glanced at Laurel before his eyes swung back to Tamani. For some reason he looked up and down Tamani’s arms before speaking. “Am fear-faire for a Fall?”
“Fear-gleidhidh,” Tamani corrected, glancing uncomfortably at Laurel. “I’m Tamani de Rhoslyn. Hecate’s eye, man, I said this is Laurel Sewell.”
The guard straightened a little and nodded at his partner, who opened the door. “You may pass.”
“Fear-glide?” Laurel asked, knowing even as the phrase came out of her mouth that she was butchering it. She remembered Jamison’s explanation of Am fear-faire earlier in the summer, but this was something new.
“It means I’m your…escort,” Tamani said, furrowing his brow. “When I gave him your human surname, I assumed he’d realize who you were and not make a fuss. But he clearly never trained at the manor.”
“The manor?” How did every conversation with Tamani turn into a crash course in faerie culture?
“Not now,” Tamani replied gently. “It’s not important.”
And indeed, as Laurel surveyed the interior of the expansive coliseum, all questions evaporated from her mind and she gasped in delight.
The coliseum walls had been grown around a steeply inclined depression in the top of the hill. She stood now on an expansive mezzanine, an outgrowth of tightly woven branches that extended from the coliseum’s living walls. Except for three ornate golden chairs on a dais at the center of the mezzanine, all the seats were wooden, cushioned in red silk and complete with armrests that grew seamlessly from the floor. They had clearly been arranged with attention to view rather than the most efficient seating capacity.
Fifty feet away, Laurel saw faeries crowding through the main entrance and descending into the ground floor, which was little more than a grassy hillside. There was no seating below the mezzanine, but faeries crowded together amicably, jostling to get as close as they could to the biggest stage Laurel had ever seen. It was draped in silky white curtains that glittered with thousands of crystals that swung gently in the breeze, casting rainbows over the entire theater. From above, sunlight poured through a thin canopy of gauzy material that billowed and waved with the wind. It softened the glare of the sun without blocking out its beneficial rays.
