Destined Read online

  Dedication

  To Neil Gleichman, who taught me the importance of finishing strong.

  I hope I have.

  Thanks, Coach.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Author’s Note

  The Last Word

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Aprilynne Pike

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Tamani pressed his forehead against the chilly windowpane, 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 circle of white, granular salt. She slept, her cheek resting on her knees, hands cuffed loosely behind her. She looked uncomfortable. Beaten.

  Harmless.

  “I would have given up everything for you.” Her words were hushed but clear.

  Tamani felt Shar stiffen at the sound of her voice, breaking the thick silence.

  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 more than 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. The Winter 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 as 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 forwards, veiling her face, and she sniffled quietly. Was she crying, or stifling a laugh?

  Tamani started 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 Autumn faerie who 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.

  “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 dress – the one she’d worn when he’d held her in his arms over a year ago at the Samhain festival, when he’d kissed her so passionately. It seemed far away.

  Laurel wasn’t looking at him now; 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 dress. 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 imperc
eptibly. She looked at Laurel, who was still studying their silent prisoner.

  “Yuki?” Laurel said tentatively. “Are you OK?”

  Yuki looked up, glaring at Laurel with steel and fury. “Do I look OK 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 backwards. “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 cut off my power and chained me to a chair!”

  Tamani hated that she was right.

  “OK, well, maybe we just need to start over,” Laurel said. “If we can 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, and 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?”

  Laurel followed Yuki’s eyes to Shar, who stood as still as a statue, his face betraying nothing.

  It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Not Shar, who had been her unseen guardian since she first left Avalon.

  So why isn’t he denying it?

  “Tell her,” Yuki said, straining against her chair. “Tell her what you did to her mother.”

  Shar’s mouth stayed closed.

  “Shar,” Laurel begged quietly. She wanted to hear him say it wasn’t true. Needed him to say it. “Please.”

  “It was necessary,” Shar replied at last. “We didn’t choose them. They just lived there. The plan had to work, Laurel. We had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice,” Laurel whispered, her mouth suddenly dry, her chin quivering with anger. Shar had poisoned her mother. Shar, who had been watching over her even longer than Tamani, had poisoned her mother.

  “I have a home and family to protect. And I will do whatever it takes to keep Avalon safe.”

  Laurel bristled. “You didn’t have to—”

  “Yes, I did,” Shar said. “I have to do a lot of things I don’t want to do, Laurel. Do you think I wanted to sabotage your human parents? Wanted to make you forget? I do as I’m told. It’s why I watched you every day, before Tamani came along. Why I know everything there is to know about you. The heirloom bowl you broke and lied about. The dog you buried outside your window, because you couldn’t bear to have him further away. The time you spent with Tamani, out at the cabin in October.”

  “Shar,” Tamani said, his voice a clear warning.

  “I gave you what space I could,” Shar said quietly, his voice at last holding a hint of remorse. But the tiny apology was clearly extended to Tamani, not to Laurel; the sudden urge to stride across the room and slap Shar across the face was stifled only by her paralysing rage.

  Yuki’s smile faded. “This is the force you’ve allied with, Laurel? I may not have always been truthful with you, but even I thought you were better than these monsters.” She looked down at the salt encircling her chair. “A little swish of your foot and I can put a stop to this. I’ll take you with me and show you how wrong Avalon is. And you can help me make it right.”

  Laurel stared at the salt. Part of her wanted to do it, just to lash out at Shar. “How do you know about Avalon?”

  “Does it matter?” Yuki asked, her face unreadable.

  “Maybe.”

  “Set me free. I’ll give you the answers they’ve been keeping from you.”

  “Don’t do it, Laurel,” Tamani said softly. “I don’t like it either, but letting her go doesn’t make anything better.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Laurel snapped, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the white circle at her feet.

  Tamani drew back, silent.

  Laurel wanted to kick the circle – she did. It was an irrational urge, one she knew she’d never act on, but hot tears pooled in her eyes as the desire burned in her throat.

  “Laurel.” A soft hand touched her arm, pulling her back to reality. She turned to a white-faced Chelsea. “Come with me. We’ll talk it over, take a drive, whatever you need to cool down.”

  Laurel stared at her friend, focusing on the one person in the room who had never hurt her, never wronged her. She nodded, not looking at anyone else. “Let’s go,” she said. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  Once they were outside, Chelsea closed the door then stopped. “Damn it,” she cursed softly. “I put my keys down somewhere. Stupid dress with no pockets,” she muttered, gathering the hem so she wouldn’t trip on it. “I’ll be right back.”

  She turned and the door opened before she could touch the knob.

  “Keys,” Chelsea explained as she pushed past Tamani.

  He pulled the door shu
t, leaving the two of them alone on the porch. She fixed her gaze on the stairwell, suddenly unwilling to look at him.

  But then, he wasn’t meeting her eyes, either.

  “I didn’t know,” Tamani whispered after a long pause. “I promise.”

  “I know,” Laurel whispered. She put her back against the wall and slid down to the ground, hugging her knees. Her voice was flat even to her own ears. “My mom was an only child. Her dad left when she was a baby. It was just her and her mom. And then Grandma died too. Mom always wanted a big family. Five kids, she told me one day. She wanted five kids. But it never happened.”

  She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but talking made her feel better somehow, so she kept going.

  “They went to a ton of doctors and no one could figure out what was wrong. None of them. That basically cemented her mistrust of doctors. It also wiped out their savings for a long time. And it doesn’t even matter, because Mom would have kept me even if she had other kids,” Laurel said firmly. “I know she would have. Shar didn’t have to do it at all.”

  She was silent for a while. “You know what really makes me mad?”

  Tamani had the grace to shake his head silently.

  “I have a secret now. I tell them everything. Everything. It hasn’t been easy, but being open and honest has been the most wonderful part of my life the past year or so. Now, I have this – this thing that I can’t tell them ever, because they would never look at me or faeries the same way.” Her anger flared, white hot. “And I hate him for that,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” Tamani said. “I know how much they mean to you and . . . and I’m sorry they got hurt.”