“This is not helping my hair,” she said, gasping for breath.
“I think your hair is a lost cause,” Tamani said, letting her go.
“Sadly, I imagine you’re right,” Laurel replied. “Maybe my parents won’t notice.”
“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Tamani said, smirking.
“Oh, crap.”
“What?” Tamani said, instantly sober and alert, stepping in front of her.
“It’s fine,” Laurel said, pushing him aside and gesturing to the car parked in front of her house. “Chelsea’s here.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Tamani asked, confused. “I mean, I think she’s awesome, don’t you?”
“No, she is. But she notices everything and won’t hesitate to comment,” she said meaningfully.
“Come here,” Tamani said, pulling her backward toward him. “I can fix this.”
Laurel stood still as Tamani smoothed her hair — detangling some knots that she couldn’t see — until it laid flat again.
“Wow,” Laurel said, her hands running down her smooth tresses. “Where did you learn to do that?”
He shrugged. “It’s just hair. Come on.” They walked, no longer hand in hand, back to the house.
Chelsea was sitting at the bar with a plate of pumpkin pie in front of her, spooning the whipped cream off the top first.
“There you are!” she said, turning as Laurel came in. “I’ve been waiting for you guys for half an hour. What on earth have you been doing?”
Laurel smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Chelsea,” she said, studiously ignoring the question.
“Sorry I didn’t call,” Chelsea said, gawking rather openly at Tamani. “I just had to get away; my brothers are a nightmare. Is he staying?”
Laurel looked up at Tamani.
“I can go,” Tamani said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No, no, stay!” Chelsea said, clapping her hands together. “A chance to dig into you all by myself. I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for anything!”
“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Tamani said slowly. “And we’re not exactly alone.”
“Oh, Laurel hardly counts.”
“Thanks,” Laurel said wryly.
“Not like that. I mean without the looming bundles of testosterone. You understand.”
Sadly, Laurel did. “You really can go if you want,” she murmured to Tamani.
“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Tamani said, grinning.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Mom, we’re going upstairs.”
“Keep the door open,” her mom called reflexively.
“Yeah, ’cause that’s going to be a problem,” Laurel muttered.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mrs. S.” Chelsea laughed, bounding up the stairs in front of Laurel.
As Chelsea peppered Tamani with questions about faerie longevity, garden mythology, and folk stories from around the world, Laurel’s mind wandered. Wandered down to the football fields at the high school, specifically. Why couldn’t she resist? Why couldn’t she just be by herself for a while? Was she in love? Sometimes she was sure the answer was yes, but almost as often, she was sure the answer was no. Not while she still felt the way she did about David. She was starting to really miss him, even though she saw him almost every day. But if it wasn’t love with Tamani, what was it? Not for the first time, Laurel wondered if she could be in love with them both. And, if she could, whether it mattered; it wasn’t as though either of them was willing to share. Not that that seemed like any kind of an answer, either.
Pushing her dreary thoughts away, Laurel watched as Chelsea continued to grill Tamani with many of the same questions her father had asked, shaking her head as Tamani scrambled for answers thorough enough to please Chelsea.
“I give up!” Tamani said with a laugh, after about half an hour. “Your curiosity is insatiable and I find myself not equal to the task. Besides, the sun is setting and I have a cabin to visit, and before I leave, Laurel has promised to tell me about her research,” Tamani said, looking at Laurel, his eyes begging for a rescue.
“I do have things to show you,” Laurel said, making her way to her desk. Hoping Tamani wouldn’t comment on the beaker of phosphorescent that she hadn’t had the heart to touch in weeks, Laurel turned on her desk lamp and pulled forward several sparkling pots that appeared to be made of cut glass — but were actually solid diamond.
“I separated it into five samples. Hopefully it’s enough.” She gestured at three of the dishes as Tamani and Chelsea peered over her shoulders. “You can see I’ve tried some different things with these. I mixed this one with purified water to make a paste that I’ve been touching and tasting—”
“Tasting? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tamani asked. “It might be poisonous.”
“I checked for that first. Nothing poisonous in it. That, I can detect. Generally.” When she saw his look of alarm she rushed on. “Besides, I’ve been tasting it for three days and nothing has happened to me yet. I haven’t even had a headache. Trust me — it’s fine.”
Tamani nodded, but he didn’t look entirely convinced.
“This one I’ve mixed with a carrier oil — that’s a neutral oil that doesn’t actually affect the mixture,” Laurel explained to Tamani and Chelsea’s blank looks. “I used almond oil this time, to settle it into parts. I was able to discover two ingredients that way.”
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Chelsea said, her breath close to Laurel’s cheek.
“I am experimenting a bit,” Laurel admitted. “Breaking down a mixture into its individual ingredients is difficult. It requires me to figure out the potential of each component, then match the effects with the list of plants I know. Some are easy,” she said, feeling her confidence grow as she explained the processes she’d been going through. “Plants I work with regularly, for example, like fichus and stephanotis. But there are so many components in this stuff.”
“What are you doing with that one?” Chelsea asked, pointing to a dish cloudy with scorch marks.
“This one doesn’t have any additives in it. I’m simply heating it over a flame and letting it cool and observing the kinds of residue it leaves. Sadly, it destroys the powder’s effectiveness. But this is how I discovered the blueberry.”
“Blueberry?” Chelsea asked, then tilted her head to the side. “It is blue.”
“It’s a mask. It’s not doing anything in the mix. In fact, if there were much more, it would wreck the warding.”
“Then why put it in?” Tamani asked.
Laurel shrugged. “No idea. I’ve identified eleven components, and I know there are a couple more. But the main issue is that I still haven’t identified the dominant ingredient. This powder is more than half some kind of flowering tree, and I can’t figure out which one.”
“Like an apple tree?” Chelsea asked, but Laurel shook her head.
“More like a catalpa tree,” Laurel explained. “Flowers only — no fruit. But it’s not quite that.” She pointed at a large stack of books beside her bed. “I’ve been going through those page by page trying to figure out what it is. The most maddening part is that I know I’ve worked with it before. I just can’t remember.” She sighed and looked up at Tamani. “I’ll keep trying,” she offered.
“I know you will,” Tamani said, laying one hand on her shoulder. “And you’ll figure it out in the end.”
“I hope so,” Laurel said, turning away from him to look out the window. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed with herself. She couldn’t be expected to do what the master students at the Academy could. She hadn’t even caught up with the acolytes yet, but she still kind of felt like she should have. She was the scion! She should have skills.