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  David was silent and still, his knuckles white on the hilt of the sword. Could he really cut down the gate? Would he?

  David spun on his heel and presented the Queen with his back. Wordlessly he jumped the trench and stood looking at the bodies surrounding him. Klea, Yuki, Klea’s mindless warriors, the still-blackened grass that filled the circle. Then he turned and, making eye contact with the Queen, thrust the sword into the earth, almost to the hilt.

  But he didn’t let go.

  He just crouched, glaring at Marion for nearly a minute. Everything else was silent.

  Then he released his hold on the sword, one finger at a time, until his arm fell and he stood and walked away.

  When he reached them, David wrapped his arms round Chelsea and buried his face in her neck, his whole body shaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. After everything they’ve been through, I can’t . . . I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” Chelsea said, holding him close. She squeezed her eyes shut and her voice quavered as she spoke. “You did the right thing. And hey, there are worse places to live, right?”

  Laurel threw her arms round both of them; behind her, Tamani struggled to his feet and joined them, his weight leaning heavy on her shoulder. “Guys, I can—” he started to whisper.

  “I will not stand by and let this happen.”

  They all turned to see Jamison on his feet, Yasmine tucked under his arm, bearing him up. “I will open the gate for them. And then I will accept my punishment.”

  “Jamison, no,” Tamani said quietly.

  “I’ve so little time left anyway – it would be an honour,” Jamison said, his chin high.

  But Tamani was already shaking his head. “No one is sacrificing themselves today. Not even you.”

  Jamison eyed Tamani appraisingly, but after a moment they seemed to come to some kind of understanding that Laurel couldn’t comprehend, and Jamison took one step back, silent now.

  Tamani turned to Laurel, David, and Chelsea. “I will make things right,” he said softly.

  “How?” Laurel said. “We can’t just—”

  “If you have ever trusted me, any of you, trust me now,” he whispered. He looked around the circle, meeting everyone’s eyes. They all nodded.

  With visible effort Tamani straightened, speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear him. “I have a few things to do. Laurel,” Tamani said, turning to her, “will you help Jamison to the Gate Garden?”

  “You can’t let him do this for us,” Laurel said quietly.

  “Please?” Tamani replied.

  She had agreed to trust him. She nodded slowly.

  “Chelsea? Will you come help me?”

  Chelsea mustered up a smile. “Of course.”

  “One hour – I want everyone together at the Gate Garden.” Tamani looked up and met the Queen’s eyes. “You should be there too.”

  “I am not accustomed to being ordered about like a—”

  “You’ll want to stop me if I’m better than you think I am, won’t you?” Tamani interrupted with a raised eyebrow. Never before had he sounded so much like Shar’s protégé. Laurel recalled how he once had trembled in the presence of Autumn faeries, how he had cowered beneath the gaze of the Queen – it was as if a different faerie stood before her now.

  Marion was silent and Laurel realised Tamani had caught her in a trap. If she didn’t come, Tamani might succeed. But if she did, it would prove she was afraid.

  Control or appearances?

  Queen Marion turned purposefully and departed without a word. But Laurel suspected that, in the end, Avalon’s monarch would comply.

  Laurel watched Tamani lumbering down the road to the Spring quarter, one arm slung across Chelsea’s shoulders for support. He was getting stronger every minute, but the serum cleansing the poison from his system would not change the fact that he was clearly exhausted.

  They all were. Dark rings hung beneath Chelsea’s and David’s eyes, and Tamani’s body had been badly battered even before Klea poisoned him. But Chelsea would take care of him – Laurel knew without a doubt that she could depend on her friend for that.

  “That boy has something in mind,” Jamison said, a twinkle in his eye. “And I am most anxious to see what it is.”

  Laurel nodded, though what she felt was fear. Tamani had proven his willingness to sacrifice himself for her and Laurel could only hope that wasn’t what he was planning now. Not that she could see how it would change anything. She helped Jamison to his feet and took one of his arms while Yasmine took the other.

  David stood to the side, hesitating, then joined them, his arm linked with Laurel’s.

  “It feels strange for Klea to be dead,” Laurel admitted as they walked slowly down the path. “I feel like I’ve been trying to figure her out and stay safe from her every moment of every day for . . . more than a year, I guess.”

  “I do wish things could have ended differently for her,” Jamison admitted.

  “I didn’t like putting myself in her head, but it’s the only reason I came up with that final ingredient,” Laurel said.

  “That is because she had a brilliant mind. And, perhaps more importantly, she had an open mind. She was willing to ask questions and pursue answers in ways other faeries simply could not fathom. In the end it was her downfall, but it was also her salvation.”

  “You told me once that I could be as good as someone, but you didn’t say who. Were you talking about her?”

  “I was indeed. I have thought of her often in the past fifty years, and how much Avalon lost when we gave up on her.”

  Laurel hesitated, then blurted out, “How can you remember her potential after everything she’s done? When I think of Klea all I see is misery and death.”

  David squeezed her arm sympathetically.

  “Then try to remember how often she has saved your family and friends.”

  “We were never actually in danger,” Laurel argued, remembering the first night they’d met Klea. The first time she’d ‘saved’ them. “She sent those trolls after us to begin with. It’s not the same. Even her saving us from Barnes was because she lost control of him.”

  “Ah, but you told me yourself that she said she made the best toxins and antidotes. I believe the healing tonic I gave you saved your father, and has also been administered to your human friends on occasion.”

  Laurel sucked in a breath, thinking of the small blue bottle she kept in her kit back home. “She made that?”

  Jamison nodded. “I have encountered few truly bad seeds in my life. Even people who find themselves acting out of envy, or greed, or selfish pride, do not lose their ability to act out of love. In the end, even Yuki found her way back. I’m sorry that Callista was unable to do the same, but I still believe she had goodness inside her at one point.”

  “Yeah,” Laurel said, but she was unconvinced. After watching Tamani nearly die, she was not inclined to think nice thoughts about Klea.

  Jamison was silent for a spell, then said, “I do not know that I will still be here when you next return to Avalon.”

  “Jamison—”

  “Please,” Jamison interrupted, his face almost unfamiliar in its seriousness. “This is important. So very, very important.” He paused and glanced around conspiratorially, then took both Laurel’s hands in his and met her eyes. “It has been more than fifty years since we first decided to place a scion in the human world and began putting our plan into action. I was reluctant. I did not think the timing was right. Cora was ready to wilt and I could see the kind of queen Marion was going to be. But I was outvoted. Then one day, many years later, they brought us a new Winter faerie, fresh from her sprout.”

  Jamison laid a fatherly arm round Yasmine and she smiled up at him.

  “I looked down at this tiny Winter faerie – one who was doomed to never rule, as she was too close to Marion’s age – and I thought of the potential in her that would be wasted. Just like Callista. And I knew at that moment that I coul
d not let that happen again. Days later, they brought in the final two candidates for the human scion.”

  “Mara and me?” Laurel asked, and Jamison nodded.

  “I realised I knew one of the young Mixers. I had seen her often when I was in the Academy, watching the Gardener care for the Winter sprout. This little Mixer was best friends with the Gardener’s son.”

  “Tamani,” Laurel whispered.

  “And I realied that perhaps this was the answer. A scion – a good, kind scion with someone in Avalon who loved her, truly loved her, someone who could be her anchor, who could keep her coming back to our realm.

  “But not empty-handed. I needed a scion who would not look down on humans, but who would love them – a scion who would reject traditions and prejudices so difficult to unlearn that I could not even trust a memory elixir to erase them. And what if this scion could show the fae of Avalon that there was another way? Might she prove a worthy adviser to the throne? Would it be possible to conduct a peaceful revolution – to bring new glory, a new way of life to our realm?”

  “Jamison!” Laurel gasped.

  “And while this scion was learning another way, I could teach that tiny Winter faerie to respect all the faeries in Avalon, not just those with power. And maybe, just maybe, when the time was right, she would have a chance to rule – a chance to make Avalon the place I always secretly dreamed it could be.”

  “You planned this!” Laurel said breathlessly, trying to grasp the scope of Jamison’s involvement. “You picked me, you helped Tamani, you planned everything!”

  “Not everything. Not this,” Jamison said, gesturing to the evidence of the destruction that surrounded them. “Never this. But after Callista was exiled, I had to do something. I had to start a change. It is our secret,” Jamison said, sobering as he looked down at Yasmine, then back at Laurel. “And now it is yours too. Move slowly, my no-longer-so-little sprout. The best, most lasting changes are those which come about gradually; to reach great heights, a tree must first put down extensive roots. But I promise you this, when it’s time – when Avalon is prepared and when you’re ready to join us here – Yasmine will be ready. Then we can have a true revolution. A peaceful one; one with the support of all the Avalon faeries behind it. And with you and Yasmine working together, Avalon can finally be everything we’ve always hoped it could be.”

  Her eyes wide, Laurel looked down at Yasmine, seeing all the goodness Laurel had always loved in Jamsion shining in this young faerie’s eyes.

  Avalon’s future, Laurel realised, and her face broke into a smile. She looked at them both and nodded, silently joining their secret crusade.

  They began walking again as Laurel tried to comprehend everything Jamison had done – the seeds he had planted, literally and figuratively, and the harvest he had planned even though he knew he would not live to see it. When they reached the gate Laurel numbly helped Jamison sit on the little stone bench inside the shattered doors to the Garden, Yasmine beside him, their Am Fear-faire standing at attention on all sides.

  “I – I’ll be back,” Laurel murmured, needing a few minutes to digest everything.

  With David at her heels, Laurel passed back out through the entrance and walked a way before putting her back against the stone wall and sliding down to the ground.

  “I can’t believe he had everything planned,” she said softly.

  “And now he’ll die to see it through,” David said, joining her on the ground. “To make sure we get out.”

  But Laurel shook her head. “Tamani will think of something.”

  “I hope so.”

  They were silent for a long time as the sun started to peek over the horizon and a cool breeze tousled Laurel’s hair. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry you got stuck with the sword.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, then I’m sorry you were put in a position where you had to kill so many trolls.”

  He didn’t respond, but she knew how tormented he must be on the inside.

  “It was – it was great, though. You really saved the day. You’re my hero,” she added, hoping he would warm to the praise.

  But David didn’t crack a smile. “You can’t even imagine what it feels like to take hold of that sword.” He shrugged. “Actually, maybe you can. Maybe this is what it feels like when you do magic.”

  “Trust me, Mixing doesn’t feel much different than home ec.”

  “You touch it,” David continued, as though she hadn’t spoken, and Laurel closed her mouth and let him talk. Clearly he needed to get it out. “And this surge of power just pours into you. And it doesn’t go away as long as you’re touching the sword.”

  Laurel thought of the World Tree and wondered if it was similar to that.

  “And it’s the most incredible rush in the world and you can’t help but believe that . . . that you can do anything.” He looked down at his hands, clenched in his lap. “But even the unbeatable sword can’t give me what I really want.”

  He hesitated, and Laurel knew what was coming next.

  “We’re not getting back together, are we?”

  Laurel looked down at her feet and shook her head.

  She saw his face fall, but he said nothing.

  “I wish,” Laurel began tentatively, “I wish there was a way that no one could get hurt in all this. And I hate that I’m the one who has to do it.”

  “I think it’s better to know, though,” David said.

  “I didn’t know,” Laurel said. “Not for sure. Not until I almost lost him.”

  “Well, staring death in the face does tend to put things in perspective,” David said, leaning back against the wall.

  “David,” Laurel said, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong, or that you weren’t good enough. You were the perfect boyfriend. Always. You would have done anything for me, and I knew that.”

  David maintained his pose, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “And I don’t know,” Laurel continued, “if this is making things better or worse, but you have to know how much I loved you – how much I needed you. You were the best thing that could have ever happened to me in high school. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Thanks for that,” David said, sounding sincere. “And – it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. I mean, I hoped it wouldn’t, but . . .”

  Laurel looked away.

  “I think Tam’s the only person in the world who could love you as much as I do,” David said grudgingly.

  Laurel nodded, but remained silent.

  “So will you stay here with him?”

  “No,” Laurel said firmly, and David looked up in surprise. “I don’t belong here, David. Not yet. Maybe someday. If – when Yasmine becomes Queen, she’ll need me, but for now, what Avalon really needs is someone in the human world, just like Jamison said. Someone to remind them how great humans really are. How great you are,” she added. “And I intend to do that.”

  “Laurel?”

  There was an edge of desperation in his voice, a deep sorrow she knew she had put there. “Yeah?”

  He was quiet for a long time and Laurel wondered if he had changed his mind when he blurted, “We could have made it. If it hadn’t been for . . . for him, we would have had the real thing. Our whole lives. I truly believe that.”

  Laurel smiled sadly. “Me too.” She threw herself into David’s arms, pressing her cheek against his warm chest, the same way she’d hugged him countless times before. But there was something more in it, this time, as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. And she knew, despite the fact that she would probably see him every day from now through graduation, that this was goodbye.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  A movement caught the corner of her eye; he was far away, but she knew him in an instant. Tamani was struggling up the pathway on his own, hardly able to put one foot in front of the other. Even as she
watched he stumbled and barely caught himself.

  Laurel gasped and was on her feet in an instant. “I have to go help him,” she said.

  David met her eyes and held her gaze for several seconds before he looked down and nodded. “Go,” he said. “He needs you.”

  “David?” Laurel said. “Sometimes . . .” She tried to remember how Chelsea had explained it to her once. “Sometimes we’re so busy looking at one thing, one . . . person . . . that we can’t see anything else. Maybe – maybe it’s time for you to open your eyes and look around.”

  That message delivered, Laurel whirled and headed for Tamani without a backwards glance.

  “Tamani!” Laurel called, running to him.

  He looked up and for a second Laurel saw joy in his eyes. But then darkness clouded his expression. He blinked and looked down at the ground, running his fingers through his hair almost nervously.

  Laurel tucked herself beneath his good arm, wanting to chide him for trying to do so much. Beneath her fingertips Laurel could feel no trace of Klea’s virulent toxin, which was encouraging, but his wounds were grievous enough on their own. “Are you all right?”

  He shook his head and his eyes looked haunted in a way she had never seen before. Yesterday she had been peripherally aware that he was pushing his emotions aside to accomplish the tasks before him. But here, with no one around but Laurel, with no lives to save, he had let all his defences go and allowed himself to really feel. And it showed. “No,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’m not all right. And I don’t think I’m going to be all right for a long time. But I’ll live,” he added after a brief pause.

  “Sit,” Laurel said, pulling him off the path to a patch of grass where a large pine shaded them from not only the rising sun, but prying eyes. For just a moment, she wanted him all to herself. “Where’s Chelsea?”

  “She’ll be here soon,” he said wearily.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  He was silent for a moment. “Shar’s house,” he finally said, his voice cracking.