Illusions

vicinity.”

“What about a faerie who hasn’t blossomed yet?”

“You can go to the records room — it’s just downstairs — and look her up.”

“Not here,” Laurel said. “In California.”

Yeardley’s eyes narrowed. “A faerie in the human world? Besides yourself, and your entourage?”

Laurel nodded.

“Unseelie?”

The Unseelie were still a mystery to Laurel. No one would talk about them directly, but she had gathered from bits and pieces that they all lived in an isolated community outside one of the gates. “I don’t think so. But there is some… confusion regarding her history, so we can’t be sure.”

“And she doesn’t know what season she is?”

Laurel hesitated. “If she does, it’s not something I can ask her.”

Comprehension dawned on Yeardley’s face. “Ah, I see.” He sighed and pressed his fingers against his lips, contemplating. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask for such a thing. Have you, Katya?”

When Katya shook her head, Yeardley continued. “We keep meticulous records of every seedling in Avalon, so this problem presents a unique challenge. But there must be something. Perhaps you could formulate a potion of your own?”

“Am I ready for that?” Laurel asked hopefully.

“Almost certainly not,” Yeardley said in his most matter-of-fact tone. “But practice needn’t always lead to success, after all. I think it would be good for you to begin learning the basic concepts of fabrication. And this seems a fine place to start. An identification powder, like Cyoan,” he said, referencing a simple powder that identified humans and non-humans. “Except you would have to figure out what separates the castes on a cellular level, and I’m unaware of much research in that area. It simply doesn’t lead anywhere.”

“What about thylakoid membranes?” Katya asked softly. As one, they all turned to face her.

“What was that?” Yeardley asked.

“Thylakoid membranes,” Katya continued, a little louder this time. “In the chloroplasm. The thylakoid membranes of Sparklers are more efficient. For lighting their illusions.”

Yeardley cocked his head to the side. “Really?”

Katya nodded. “When I was younger we sometimes stole the phosphorescing serums for the lamps and… um… drank them. It would make us glow in the dark,” she said, lowering her lashes as she related the childish antic. “I… had a Summer friend, and she did it with us one day. But instead of glowing for one night, she glowed for three days. It took me years to figure out why.”

“Excellent, Katya,” Yeardley said, a distinct note of pleasure in his voice. “I would like to discuss that more fully with you in the classroom sometime this week.”

Katya nodded eagerly.

Yeardley turned back to Laurel. “It’s a start. Focus on plants with phosphorescing qualities that could show evidence of a more efficient thylakoid, and try to repeat the kind of reaction you get with Cyoan powder. I will work personally with Katya, here at the Academy.”

“But what if she’s not a Summer faerie?”

“Then you would be twenty-five percent closer to your goal, would you not?”

Laurel nodded. “I need to write this down,” she said, not wanting to admit to Yeardley that she had no idea what Katya was talking about. But David probably would. Laurel grabbed a few note cards from her desk where — after last summer — the staff always kept them stocked, and sat by Katya. Katya spoke quietly as Laurel wrote down the basics and fervently hoped that the biological terminology was the same in Avalon as the human world.

“Experiment when you can, and we’ll see what Katya and I can come up with here,” Yeardley said. “I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you tonight.” He paused, giving her an approving smile. “Glad to see you again, Laurel.”

Stifling her disappointment, Laurel returned his smile as he left the room, closing the door behind him. After the near-fit she’d thrown getting here, the whole visit felt very unproductive.

“Did you hear that?” Katya said, her voice low but excited. “He’s going to work with me personally. I’m part of your entourage now,” she added, taking Laurel’s hand. “I am going to help with a potion that might be used in the human world. I’m so excited!”

She grabbed Laurel’s shoulder, pulled her in, and kissed both cheeks quickly before darting toward the door. “Next time you’re here,” she said, poking her head back through the doorway, “come see me first, okay?” She clicked the door shut behind her, leaving the room feeling quiet and empty.

“We’d better hurry,” Laurel said to Tamani, walking past him without looking him in the face. She didn’t want him to see her discouragement.

After a short and silent walk back to the gateway, they approached Jamison’s circle of Am fear- faire, all standing at attention, but Jamison did not stir from his quiet conversation with Shar. After a few seconds, both men nodded, then looked up at Laurel and Tamani.

“Did your visit to the Academy bear fruit?” Jamison asked.

“Not yet, but hopefully soon,” Laurel replied.

“Are you ready, then?” Jamison asked.

They nodded and Jamison reached out for the gate. As it swung open he looked first at Shar, then at Tamani. “The Huntress and the Wildflower should be watched closely, but do not let them consume your attention. What remains of Barnes’s horde will surely be looking for an opportunity to strike. If you need anything — reinforcements, supplies, anything—you have but to ask.”

“We will need more sentries. For the Wildflower,” Tamani said. Here, away from the Palace and the Academy, he was confident again, speaking easily and standing tall.

“Of course,” Jamison replied. “Anything you need and more. We will keep Laurel safe, but she needs to remain in Crescent City. Especially if we are to see how these events will play out.”

Laurel was a little uncomfortable with how close that sounded to Laurel is the bait. But Tamani had never failed her before, and she had no reason to believe he would do so now.

Chapter Nine

AS SOON AS THE GATE CLOSED, TAMANI TURNED TO Shar, hoping — and doubting — that his old friend was okay. “So, did you get what you were after?”

Shar shook his head. “Not really. But I probably got what I deserved.”

Don’t be so hard on yourself, Tamani thought, but he said nothing. Never did. However difficult it was for Shar to visit Japan, Tamani doubted the experience was half as bad as the emotional torment he always put himself through afterward.

“Who did you go to see, Shar?” Laurel asked.

Shar met her question with silence. Tamani placed a hand at the small of Laurel’s back and gently urged her to walk a little faster. Now was not the time to be asking Shar about Hokkaido.

They stopped at the edge of the woods and a grin played at the corners of Shar’s mouth. “Hurry,” he teased Tamani. “The sun will be setting soon and you have school tomorrow.”

Tamani swallowed his frustration. He hated his stupid classes and Shar knew it. “Just answer your blighting phone next time, okay?” Tamani said, getting in a parting shot.

Shar’s hand flitted to the pouch where his phone was stowed, but he said nothing.

Once he and Laurel were in the convertible, Tamani pulled back onto the highway and set his cruise control considerably lower than he had on the way to the land. The sun was still an hour from setting, the breeze was cool, and he had Laurel in the car. No need to hurry.

They traveled a ways in silence before Laurel finally asked, “Where did Shar go?”

Tamani hesitated. It wasn’t really his place to spill Shar’s secrets, and technically he was only supposed to tell Laurel things she needed to know to fulfill her mission. But he preferred to think of that particular order as a strongly worded preference—and besides, it was at least plausible that the Unseelie had something to do with Yuki’s appearance. “He went to go see his mother.”

“In Hokkaido?”