She crossed her arms over her chest as she stopped. She’d reached the water. There was nowhere else to go. The wind blew at her hair, throwing it back from her face. “I don’t like having you so far away,” Tamani said after a long pause. His voice sounded normal again, without the bitter edge. “I worry. I know you’ve got guards, but…I liked it better when you were at the land. I don’t like trusting other faeries with your life. I wish…I wish I could come out and do it myself.”
Laurel was already shaking her head. “It wouldn’t work,” she said firmly.
“You don’t think I could do a good enough job?” Tamani asked, looking at her with a seriousness Laurel disliked.
“It wouldn’t work,” she repeated, knowing her reasoning was very different from Tamani’s.
“You just don’t want me in your human world,” Tamani said quietly, his words carried to her on the light breeze.
The truth of the whispered accusation stung, and Laurel turned away from him.
“You’re afraid that if I was part of your human life you might actually have to make a real decision. Right now you have the best of both worlds. You get your David.” He spoke the name scornfully, anger creeping into his tone. It was better than the pain she heard in his voice before. She almost wished he’d just yell. Anger was so much easier than sadness, hurt. “And then you come out here and have me whenever you want me. I’m at your beck and call, and you know it. Do you ever consider how that makes me feel? Every time you leave—go back to him—you tear up my emotions all over again. Sometimes…” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish you would just stop coming around.” He let out a frustrated growl. “No, I don’t actually want that, but, I just…it’s so hard when you leave, Laurel. I wish you could see that.”
A tear slipped down Laurel’s cheek, but she rubbed it away, forcing herself to remain calm. “I can’t stay,” she said, happy that her voice was solid, strong. “If I come here…every time I come here…I have to leave, eventually. Maybe it would be better for you if I stopped coming back at all—easier.”
“You have to come back,” Tamani said, concern laced through his voice. “You have to learn to be a Fall faerie. It’s your birthright. Your destiny.”
“I know enough to get me through for a while,” Laurel insisted. “What I need now is practice, and I can do that from home.” Her hands shook, but she folded her arms across her chest, trying to hide it.
“That’s not the plan,” Tamani said, his voice just short of a reprimand. “You have to come back regularly.”
Laurel forced herself to speak calmly, coolly. “No, Tamani. I don’t.”
Their eyes met, and neither seemed able to look away.
Laurel gave in first. “I have to go. It’s better for me to be in my house after dark. I need you to take me to the gate.”
“Laurel—”
“The gate!” Laurel ordered, knowing she couldn’t bear to hear whatever he was going to say. Somehow she’d spoiled their whole day, and now all she wanted was to end it.
Tamani stiffened, but there was defeat on his face. Laurel turned away from it. She couldn’t look. He put his hand at her back and prodded her forward, his fingers at her waist, guiding her from his position one step behind her.
When they reached the stone walls that surrounded the gates, Tamani made a hand signal to the guards standing at the entrance and one of them left at a run.
After a few seconds Tamani spoke. “I—I just want you to be safe,” he said apologetically.
“I know,” Laurel murmured.
“What about that Klea person?” Tamani asked. “Have you seen her again?”
Laurel shook her head. “I told you I wasn’t sure if I could trust her.”
“Does she know about you?” Tamani said, turning sharply to face her. “Does she have any idea you’re a faerie?”
“Yes, Tamani. I spilled everything to her the instant I met her,” Laurel said sarcastically. “No, of course she doesn’t! I’ve been very careful—”
“Because the second she finds out,” he continued, talking over her again, “the instant she knows, your life is in jeopardy.”
“She doesn’t know,” Laurel yelled, drawing the attention of the guards. But she didn’t care. “And even if she did, then what? Is she going to change her mind and start trying to kill me instead? I don’t think so.” It was strange to be arguing the opposite side she’d taken with David a few weeks ago, but logic seemed to be slipping away. “I’m fine!” she said in exasperation.
Their heads both turned as the sound of footsteps approached—a group of guards. Tamani’s head dropped and he stepped backward, taking his place at Laurel’s shoulder. But she could hear his breath heavy with frustration.
The group of soldiers parted to reveal Yasmine, the young Winter faerie.
“Oh,” Laurel said, surprised. “I thought they would send…someone else,” she finished lamely when the girl’s soft green eyes turned to her.
Yasmine said nothing, just turned toward the wall.
“Can she open it by herself?” Laurel whispered to Tamani.
“Of course,” Tamani said, his tone clipped. “It’s not a skill. You just have to be a Winter faerie.”
Laurel was already shaking her head. “It wouldn’t work,” she said firmly.
“You don’t think I could do a good enough job?” Tamani asked, looking at her with a seriousness Laurel disliked.
“It wouldn’t work,” she repeated, knowing her reasoning was very different from Tamani’s.
“You just don’t want me in your human world,” Tamani said quietly, his words carried to her on the light breeze.
The truth of the whispered accusation stung, and Laurel turned away from him.
“You’re afraid that if I was part of your human life you might actually have to make a real decision. Right now you have the best of both worlds. You get your David.” He spoke the name scornfully, anger creeping into his tone. It was better than the pain she heard in his voice before. She almost wished he’d just yell. Anger was so much easier than sadness, hurt. “And then you come out here and have me whenever you want me. I’m at your beck and call, and you know it. Do you ever consider how that makes me feel? Every time you leave—go back to him—you tear up my emotions all over again. Sometimes…” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish you would just stop coming around.” He let out a frustrated growl. “No, I don’t actually want that, but, I just…it’s so hard when you leave, Laurel. I wish you could see that.”
A tear slipped down Laurel’s cheek, but she rubbed it away, forcing herself to remain calm. “I can’t stay,” she said, happy that her voice was solid, strong. “If I come here…every time I come here…I have to leave, eventually. Maybe it would be better for you if I stopped coming back at all—easier.”
“You have to come back,” Tamani said, concern laced through his voice. “You have to learn to be a Fall faerie. It’s your birthright. Your destiny.”
“I know enough to get me through for a while,” Laurel insisted. “What I need now is practice, and I can do that from home.” Her hands shook, but she folded her arms across her chest, trying to hide it.
“That’s not the plan,” Tamani said, his voice just short of a reprimand. “You have to come back regularly.”
Laurel forced herself to speak calmly, coolly. “No, Tamani. I don’t.”
Their eyes met, and neither seemed able to look away.
Laurel gave in first. “I have to go. It’s better for me to be in my house after dark. I need you to take me to the gate.”
“Laurel—”
“The gate!” Laurel ordered, knowing she couldn’t bear to hear whatever he was going to say. Somehow she’d spoiled their whole day, and now all she wanted was to end it.
Tamani stiffened, but there was defeat on his face. Laurel turned away from it. She couldn’t look. He put his hand at her back and prodded her forward, his fingers at her waist, guiding her from his position one step behind her.
When they reached the stone walls that surrounded the gates, Tamani made a hand signal to the guards standing at the entrance and one of them left at a run.
After a few seconds Tamani spoke. “I—I just want you to be safe,” he said apologetically.
“I know,” Laurel murmured.
“What about that Klea person?” Tamani asked. “Have you seen her again?”
Laurel shook her head. “I told you I wasn’t sure if I could trust her.”
“Does she know about you?” Tamani said, turning sharply to face her. “Does she have any idea you’re a faerie?”
“Yes, Tamani. I spilled everything to her the instant I met her,” Laurel said sarcastically. “No, of course she doesn’t! I’ve been very careful—”
“Because the second she finds out,” he continued, talking over her again, “the instant she knows, your life is in jeopardy.”
“She doesn’t know,” Laurel yelled, drawing the attention of the guards. But she didn’t care. “And even if she did, then what? Is she going to change her mind and start trying to kill me instead? I don’t think so.” It was strange to be arguing the opposite side she’d taken with David a few weeks ago, but logic seemed to be slipping away. “I’m fine!” she said in exasperation.
Their heads both turned as the sound of footsteps approached—a group of guards. Tamani’s head dropped and he stepped backward, taking his place at Laurel’s shoulder. But she could hear his breath heavy with frustration.
The group of soldiers parted to reveal Yasmine, the young Winter faerie.
“Oh,” Laurel said, surprised. “I thought they would send…someone else,” she finished lamely when the girl’s soft green eyes turned to her.
Yasmine said nothing, just turned toward the wall.
“Can she open it by herself?” Laurel whispered to Tamani.
“Of course,” Tamani said, his tone clipped. “It’s not a skill. You just have to be a Winter faerie.”
