“Is this your sister?” Laurel asked, pointing to the faerie child.
“No,” Tamani said, and Rhoslyn laughed.
“At my age?” she said with a smile. “Earth and sky, no. Tam is my youngest and I was a bit old even for him.”
“This is Rowen,” Tamani said, poking the little girl’s ribs. “Her mother is my sister.”
“Oh. Your niece,” Laurel said.
Tamani shrugged. “We don’t really use terms here for anything other than mother, father, brother, and sister. Beyond that, we all belong to one another, and we help out with everyone’s children.” He tickled the little faerie, and she squealed in delight. “Rowen here may get extra attention from us because she is more closely connected than other seedlings, but we don’t stake claims beyond that. We’re all family.”
“Oh.” It was a concept Laurel both liked and disliked. It would be fun to have a whole society of people who considered themselves part of your family. But she would miss the ties she had to her admittedly sparse extended family.
Laurel blinked in surprise at a small creature that looked like a purple squirrel with pink butterfly wings perched on Rowen’s shoulder. Laurel was sure it hadn’t been there a few moments ago. As she watched, Rowen whispered to the thing, then laughed quietly, as if sharing a friendly joke.
“Tamani?” Laurel whispered, not taking her eyes from the strange thing.
“What?” Tamani responded, following her gaze.
“What is that thing?”
“That’s her familiar,” Tamani responded, suppressing a grin. “At least for the moment. She changes it regularly.”
“Is there any need to tell you I’m totally confused?”
Tamani found a stool and sat, setting Rowen back on the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Think of it as a not-so-imaginary imaginary friend.”
“It’s imaginary?”
“It’s an illusion.” He grinned as Laurel continued to look flustered. “Rowen,” Tamani said, his voice warm, “is a Summer faerie.”
Rowen smiled shyly.
Rhoslyn beamed. “We’re very proud of her.”
“Creating an illusionary playmate is one of the first manifestations of a Summer faerie’s magic. Rowen’s been making hers since about two weeks out of her sprout. It’s like having a special blanket or pet plaything but way more fun. For one thing, my favorite toys never moved like that.”
Laurel eyed the purple squirrel-thing warily. “So it’s not real?”
“Only slightly more real than any other faerie’s imaginary friend.”
“That’s amazing.”
Tamani rolled his eyes. “Amazing, nothing. You should see the heroic rescuers she conjures up to save her from the monster under the bed.” He paused. “Which is also her creation.”
“Where are her parents?”
“They’re up in Summer this afternoon,” Rhoslyn said. “Rowen is almost of age to begin training, and they’re making arrangements with her director.”
“So young?”
“She’s almost three,” Tamani replied.
“Really?” Laurel asked, studying the girl as she played on the floor. “She looks so much younger,” she said quietly. She paused. “And acts much older. I was going to ask you about that.”
Rowen stared up at Laurel. “I’m just like all the other fae my age. Aren’t I?” She directed her question to Tamani.
“You’re perfect, Rowen.” He scooped her onto his lap, and the pink-and-purple thing settled onto the top of his head.
Laurel forced herself to look away, although she did wonder if it was rude to stare, if the thing you were staring at wasn’t really there. “Let me tell you something about Laurel,” Tamani said to Rowen. “She’s very special. She lives in the human world.”
“Just like you,” Rowen said matter-of-factly.
“Not exactly like me,” Tamani said, laughing. “Laurel lives with the humans.”
Rowen’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes. In fact, she didn’t even know she was a faerie until last year, when she blossomed.”
“What did you think you were?” Rowen asked.
“I thought I was human, like my parents.”
“That’s silly,” Rowen said dismissively. “How could a faerie be a human? Humans are strange. And scary,” she added after a short pause. Then she whispered conspiratorially, “They’re animals.”
“They’re not so scary, Rowen,” Tamani said. “And they look just like us. If you didn’t know anything about faeries, you might think you were a human too.”
“Oh, I could never be a human,” Rowen responded soberly.
“Well, you’ll never have to be,” Tamani said. “You’re going to be the most beautiful Summer faerie in Avalon.”
Rowen smiled and lowered her eyelids demurely and Laurel had no doubt Tamani was right. With her soft, curly brown hair and long lashes, she was as pretty as any baby Laurel had ever seen. Then she opened her rosebud mouth wide into a yawn.
“Nap time, Rowen,” Rhoslyn said.
Rowen’s face fell and she started to pout. “But I want to play with Laurel.”
“Laurel will be back another time,” Rhoslyn said, her eyes darting to Laurel’s as if to test the validity of that promise. Laurel nodded quickly, not certain if it was the truth. “You can sleep in Tam’s bed,” Rhoslyn added when Rowen still hung back. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said to Tamani, who shook his head.
The little faerie’s face brightened considerably and Rhoslyn herded her down the narrow hall, leaving Tamani and Laurel alone.
“Is she really only three?” Laurel asked.
“Aye. And very normal for a faerie her age,” Tamani said, lounging in the broad armchair. It was fascinating for Laurel to watch him. She had never seen him quite so at ease.
“You told me that faeries age differently, but I…” Her voice trailed off.
“You didn’t believe me?” Tamani said with a grin.
“I believed you. Just, seeing it is something else.” She looked over at him. “Are faeries ever babies?”
“Not in the sense that you mean.”
“And I was older than Rowen when I went to live with my parents?”
Tamani nodded, a small smile flirting with the corners of his mouth. “You were seven. Just barely.”
“And you and I — we went to school together?”
He chuckled. “What good would Fall faerie classes have done me?”
“So how did I know you?”
“I spent a lot of time at the Academy with my mother.”
As if sensing she was being spoken of, Rhoslyn walked back into the room with cups of warm heliconia nectar. Laurel had tasted it once at the Academy, where she was informed that the sweet beverage was a favorite in Avalon and often hard to come by. She felt complimented to be served it now.
“What is a Gardener?” Laurel asked, addressing Rhoslyn now. “Tamani said it was like a midwife.”
Rhoslyn clicked her tongue disparagingly. “Tamani and his human words. Can’t say I know what a midwife is, but a Gardener is a Tender who nurtures germinating sprouts.”
“Oh.” But Laurel was still confused. “Don’t the parents take care of them themselves?”
Rhoslyn shook her head. “Not enough time. Sprouts need constant and very specialized tending. We all have daily tasks to do, and if every mother took off a year or longer to tend her sprout, too many jobs would go undone. Besides, a couple might decide to make a seed just to get out of a year of work, and new life is far too important to be undertaken for so frivolous a reason.”