Just before he reached the shadow of the trees, someone in green leaped out from Tamani’s right and toppled him over. At first Laurel couldn’t identify the blur that knocked Tamani to the ground, but as soon as she realized it was Shar she opened the door and hurried to them.
The two sentries were tangled in the dirt, Tamani with his arms wrenched firmly behind him, his legs wrapped around Shar’s waist, pinning him to the ground. Each struggled to get free of the other, but it looked like a stalemate. Laurel crossed her arms and grinned as the faeries grunted out Gaelic epithets and outlandish faerie slurs.
“Rot-headed spore! Make me worry.”
“Pansy sentry, totally unprepared.”
Finally Tamani called truce and they got to their feet, dusting off their clothes and shaking leaves out of their hair. Laurel noticed that Shar’s hair, like Tamani’s, was no longer green at the roots. Apparently Tamani hadn’t been the only one to change his diet.
“Why didn’t you answer the phone, mate? I’ve been calling you all week!”
Laurel put up a hand to cover her smile as she listened to Tamani’s accent thicken with every word. Shar reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out his iPhone with the same look Laurel’s mother reserved for leftovers found moldering in the back of the fridge. “I can’t work this blighted thing,” Shar said. “Half the time I don’t feel it buzzing until it’s too late, and even when I do, I put it up to my ear like you said and nothing happens.”
“Did you slide the bar?” Tamani asked.
“What bar? It’s as smooth as a holly leaf,” Shar said, looking at the phone Laurel noticed he was holding upside down. “You told me it’s as easy as picking it up and talking. That’s what I did.”
Tamani sighed, then reached out and punched Shar in the shoulder. Shar didn’t even move, much less flinch. “There’s not even anything to remember! It tells you right on the screen what to do. Let’s try it again,” Tamani said, reaching into his pocket.
“No point in that,” Shar said moodily, his eyes darting toward Laurel. “I can hear you now.” He turned and walked down the path. “Best get out of sight. Would be our luck that after six months with no trolls, one would wander by as we’re standing out in the open, gawking at human trinkets.”
Tamani stood for a few seconds, phone in hand, then shoved his hands in his pockets and tromped after Shar, looking back with a shrug to make sure Laurel was following. But Laurel could see the relief in his eyes.
About ten feet into the woods, Shar drew abruptly to a halt. “So why are you here?” he asked, his face serious, playful demeanor gone. “The plan was never for you to bounce back and forth. You are supposed to maintain your post in the human world.”
Tamani sobered as well. “The situation has changed. The Huntress enrolled a faerie at Laurel’s school.”
Shar’s eyebrow twitched; a big reaction, from him. “The Huntress is back?”
Tamani nodded.
“And she has a faerie with her. How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. Supposedly, Klea’s people found her in Japan, where she was raised by human parents. We don’t know what she’s capable of, if anything.” Tamani’s eyes darted to Laurel. “I told Laurel about the toxin. The wild faerie — Yuki — looks too young to have made something like that, but who could say for sure?”
Shar’s eyes narrowed. “How young does she look?”
“Younger than thirty. Older than ten. You know it would be impossible to say for sure. But from what I’ve observed of her behavior, she could be within a year or two of Laurel’s age.”
Laurel hadn’t even considered that. She knew faeries aged differently from humans, but the differences were most pronounced in very young faeries — like Tamani’s niece, Rowen — and middle-aged faeries, who might spend a century looking like a human in the prime of life. Yuki didn’t look out of place at Del Norte, but that only meant she was at least as old as her classmates.
Shar was frowning thoughtfully, but asked no further questions.
“Now that I know your sorry pulp isn’t crushed to death under some troll’s boot, we need to see Jamison,” said Tamani. “He’ll know what to do.”
“We do not just summon Jamison, Tam. You know that,” Shar said flatly.
“Shar, it’s important.”
Shar stepped close to Tamani, his words so quiet Laurel hardly heard them. “The last time I demanded the presence of a Winter faerie it was to save your life. I have watched other fae die when Avalon could have saved them because I knew I could not put my home at risk. We don’t call the Winters down for a chat.” He paused. “I will send a request. When they bring a response, I’ll let you know. That is all I can do.”
Tamani’s face sank. “I thought—”
“You did not think,” Shar said sternly, and Tamani’s mouth clapped shut. Shar chased his reproach with a scowl, but after a moment he sighed and his expression softened. “And that is partly my fault. If I had been able to speak to you on that ridiculous thing you wouldn’t have been so concerned, and I could have made the request days ago. I apologize.” He placed one hand on Tamani’s arm. “It is a matter of great importance, but do not forget who you are. You are a sentry; you are a Spring faerie. Even your position of great notice doesn’t change that.”
Tamani nodded solemnly, saying nothing.
Laurel stood silently for a few seconds, staring at the two fae in disbelief. Despite her assurances to Tamani that she wanted Shar to be safe, she came to see Jamison.
And she wasn’t leaving until she had.
Lifting her chin defiantly, Laurel turned and headed into the forest as fast as she could without breaking into a run.
“Laurel!” Tamani called immediately after her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Avalon,” she said, holding her voice as steady as she could manage.
“Laurel, stop!” Tamani said, wrapping one hand around her upper arm.
Laurel pulled her arm from his grasp, the strength of his fingers stinging against her skin. “Don’t try and stop me!” she said loudly. “You have no right!” Without pausing to look at his face, she pivoted and continued the way she had been heading. As she walked, several faeries approached the path, spears raised, but as soon as they recognized her, they backed off.
When she reached the tree that disguised the gate it was guarded by five fully armed sentries. Taking a deep breath and reminding herself that, whatever else they might do, these warriors would never actually harm her, Laurel marched up to the closest one. “I am Laurel Sewell, Apprentice Fall, scion in the human world. I have business with Jamison, the Winter faerie, advisor to Queen Marion, and I demand entrance to Avalon.”
The guards, clearly thrown by this display, bowed respectfully at the waist and turned questioning eyes to Shar, who stepped forward and also bowed. Guilt welled up in Laurel’s chest, but she forced it down.
“Of course,” Shar said softly. “I will send your request immediately. It is, however, up to the Winter faeries to decide whether they will open the gate.”
“I’m quite aware,” Laurel said, proud that her voice didn’t quaver.
Shar bowed again, not meeting her eyes. He circled to the far side of the tree and Laurel wished she could go and see what he did — how he communicated with Avalon. But following him might destroy the illusion of power that, she had to admit, she was doing an excellent job of maintaining. So she averted her eyes and tried to look bored as silent minutes ticked by.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, Shar emerged from behind the tree. “They are sending someone,” he said, his voice just a touch raspy. Laurel tried to catch his eye, but though his chin was raised as high and proud as hers, he would not meet her gaze.