Aprilynne Pike: Destined

“Maybe,” Laurel said, although at this moment she couldn’t fathom rejecting him for any reason.

His fingers found her chin, lifting it so he could look her in the eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“No,” she said, running one finger across his bottom lip, “thank you .” Then she pulled his face down, their lips meeting, melting together again. She wished they could stay there all day, all year, all eternity, but reality came creeping slowly back in.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re up to,” she said at last.

“One more minute,” Tamani said, smiling against her lips.

“We don’t need minutes,” Laurel said. “We have forever.”

Tamani pulled back to look at her, his eyes shining with wonder. “Forever,” he whispered, before pulling her in for another long kiss.

“So, does this make us entwined?” Laurel asked, a sharp twinge of grief piercing her happiness as she repeated the word Katya had used, so long ago, to describe committed faerie couples.

“I believe it does,” Tamani said, beaming. He leaned closer, his nose touching hers. “A sentry and a Mixer? We shall be quite the scandal.”

Laurel smiled. “I love a good scandal.”

“I love you ,” Tamani whispered.

“I love you, too,” Laurel replied, relishing the words as she said them. And with them, the world was new and bright — there was hope. There were dreams.

But most of all, there was Tamani.

Not since Samhain had Laurel seen so many faeries gathered into one place. While she had occupied herself with Tamani, they had crowded their way into the Gate Garden, lined its battlements, clustered around the entrances, and spilled back out into the trees where the trolls had breached the walls. Most wore the plain, practical garb of Spring faeries, but flashy Summers and even a few Autumns were interspersed through the crowd. In fact, the only group Laurel didn’t see represented in the crowd were the ceremonially garbed sentries whose job it would probably have been to clear the Garden of the rabble. With sadness she wondered if any of the Garden sentries had survived.

David had not moved from where she’d left him; he rose to his feet as Laurel and Tamani approached and Laurel tried not to see the sadness in his eyes. She couldn’t protect him from that, and it bothered her deeply that she’d inflicted a wound she couldn’t cure. But at least by realising that the time had come to let him go, she wouldn’t make his pain any worse.

“She should be here by now,” Tamani said softly.

“Who?”

“Chelsea — ah! There we go.”

Laurel turned to see Chelsea coming up the pathway with more Spring and Summer faeries in tow.

“Tamani,” Laurel asked, feeling a nervous bubble of laughter building up in the back of her throat. “Seriously, you have to tell me! What did you do?”

“I had Chelsea tell the Ticers and Sparklers that Marion was about to either trap their hero in Avalon forever or execute Jamison, and that they should come… Uh… watch .”

“You didn’t!” Laurel cried, delighted.

“Believe me,” Tamani said ruefully, “what’s about to happen should be witnessed by as many fae as possible.”

As Chelsea reached them Tamani pulled her close, planting a fond kiss atop her head. “Thank you. And not just for this,” Tamani said, his gesture taking in the crowd round them. “For everything.”

Chelsea beamed as Laurel turned and beckoned to David. Together, the four of them passed through the destroyed Garden doors; the crowd parted to admit them with smiles and words of thanks, a few adding in a warning whisper that the Winter faeries were waiting at the gateways.

As they traversed the crowded enclosure, with its rich earth paths and enormous moss-covered trees, Laurel marvelled at just how little it all had changed in spite of yesterday’s battles. The grass was trampled and several of the trees looked like they’d been caught in a nasty hailstorm, but the bodies had been cleared away, the weapons disposed of. Avalon had suffered a serious wound, but like Tamani, it was already healing.

As Laurel had suspected, all three of Avalon’s Winter faeries were waiting on a marble bench near the gateways, surrounded by a passel of Am Fear-faire — Queen Marion unable to relinquish her tight-fisted control. Remembering her conversation with Jamison Laurel smiled inwardly. It would take time yet, but Laurel looked forward to the inevitable day when she and Yasmine — well, all of Avalon, really — would wrench that control away from her.

All around them clustered many Springs and Summers, some swathed in bandages or exhibiting cuts and scrapes from the previous day’s battles — and even here, a few Mixers were plying their trade, treating the wounded who were in need of care but who had presumably refused to miss the spectacle anyway. A murmur of conversation that was both excited and angry buzzed through the Gate Garden and electrified the air.

In the centre of it all glittered the four-sided gates of gold, their tiny flowers twinkling warmly in the morning light.

“We’re leaving,” Tamani said to Jamison, not even acknowledging his Queen’s presence.

“I don’t think so,” Marion said, rising to her feet. “I have already made my decree — if Jamison or Yasmine open that gate, it will be an act of treason punishable by death.”

The milling faeries breathed a collective gasp.

“You’ve gathered quite a crowd,” Marion added. “Did you think to intimidate me with their presence?”

“Not at all,” Tamani said. His tone was casual, but Laurel could feel that his body was tense. “I wanted them all to hear for themselves the words of their Queen on this matter.”

“I am not accustomed to making appearances for your amusement .” Marion scowled. “Gate guards, do your duty. Clear the Garden; this audience is at an end.”

From somewhere in the crowd, the gate guard’s captain emerged with four other sentries. They looked like they’d crawled through hell on their bellies; they were still in the armour they’d been wearing yesterday and blood caked their hands. Laurel realised it was they who had cleared the fallen trolls — and their fallen friends — from the Garden. They must have been at it all night.

“I apologise, Your Grace,” said the captain, her voice gravelly. “We are too few.”

Marion’s eyes were wide with shock. For a moment Laurel wondered whether the Queen could actually be ignorant of the number of sentries who had died protecting the gates.

“You will do as I command or I will strip you of your duties,” she said at last, and Laurel realised that what had actually surprised her was that someone had told her no.

With a bow, the gate captain drew a gleaming, long-handled sword from the scabbard at her waist. The sentries behind her did the same, and for a moment Laurel feared they were going to turn their weapons against the gathered audience. She felt her fingers digging into Tamani’s arm; she didn’t think she could handle another day of fighting.

The captain held up her sword, crossed in front of Laurel’s face and met Tamani’s eyes — steely glare for steely glare.

Then she threw her sword on to the ground and stretched out her arm, beckoning for them to pass. The rest of the sentries stepped back into a short line and dropped their weapons as well.

Marion was too angry to speak, but it hardly mattered; anything she might have said would have been drowned out by the cacophonous cheering of the crowd. When at last she found her tongue, she addressed Jamison and Yasmine.

“Stop them,” she said. “I command you. Take them into custody.”