Tamani shook his head again. “This is my place. There”—he gestured to the red silk seating at the lip of the mezzanine—“is yours.”
“Jamison will be here, Tam. We’ll both insist you be allowed to sit with me. I’m sure of it.”
Tamani’s eyes flitted back and forth between Laurel, the Fall faeries milling around the mezzanine, and the crush of Spring faeries pouring through the main entrance. “Fine,” he said with a sigh.
“Thank you!” Laurel said, pushing impulsively up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t. She pulled back a few inches and couldn’t seem to go any farther. Tamani turned his head to look her full in the face. He was so close, their noses almost touched. His breath caressed her lips, and she felt herself leaning toward him.
Tamani turned his face away. “Lead on,” he said in a voice so quiet Laurel barely heard him.
So Laurel led Tamani down the steps of the mezzanine, and this time he followed. But the nervous, almost frightened Tamani following her was a stranger to Laurel. His cockiness was gone, his confidence sapped; he looked like he was trying to disappear into his cloak.
Laurel stopped and turned to him, her hands on the sides of his arms, not speaking until he finally raised his eyes to hers. “What is wrong?”
“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “I don’t belong here.”
“You belong with me,” Laurel said firmly. “I need you at my side.”
He looked down at her, an edge of fear in his eyes that she’d never seen before. Not even when Barnes shot him. “It’s not my place,” he insisted again. “I don’t want to be that faerie.”
“What faerie?”
“The kind who latches on to a girl above his station, consumed by ambition like a common animal. That’s not what I’m doing; my oath to you, it’s not. I just wanted to meet you afterward. I didn’t plan this.”
“Is this because you’re a Spring faerie?” she asked sharply. The buzz of the crowd kept their conversation relatively private, but she lowered her voice just the same.
Tamani refused to meet her gaze.
“It is! Not only do
“It’s just the way things are,” Tamani muttered, still not looking at her.
“Well, it’s not the way they should be!” Laurel hissed. She grabbed both of Tamani’s shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Tamani, you are twice the faerie of any Fall faerie in the Academy. There’s no one I would rather have by my side in all of Avalon.” She gritted her teeth before continuing, knowing it would hurt him, but it might be the only thing he would listen to. “And if you care about me half as much as you claim, then it should matter way more to you what
The eyes staring into hers darkened. A long moment passed before he nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice still quiet.
She nodded but didn’t smile. It wasn’t a smiling moment.
He trailed behind her, his black cape swirling around his feet. Now he brooded silently but with a determined air.
“Laurel!” came a familiar voice. Laurel turned to see Katya, resplendent in a silk dress that accentuated her figure. Pale pink petals matching the shade of her dress stood out over Katya’s shoulders. Her light blond hair lay perfectly around her face, and she wore a sparkling silver comb over her left ear.
“Katya.” Laurel smiled.
“I hoped you might come to this!” Katya said. “It’s the very best festival to come to all year long.”
“Is it?” Laurel asked.
“Of course. The start of the New Year! New goals, new studies, new class placements. I look forward to it all year long.” She twined her arm through Laurel’s and pulled her toward the far end of the mezzanine. “I think Mara’s finally going to be elevated to journeyman tomorrow,” she said with a giggle. Her eyes flitted over to where the dark-eyed Fall stood in a stunning purple dress with a neckline cut far lower than Laurel would have ever dared in public. Like Katya, Mara was in bloom, a modest, six-pointed star resembling a narcissus flower setting off the color of her dress.
Laurel looked back to make sure Tamani was following and gave him a quick smile when he met her eyes.
“You brought him?” Katya said in a whisper.
“Of course,” Laurel said at full volume.
Katya smiled, only a little tightly. “Silly of me. You certainly need a guide. You’ve never been to one of these. I should have thought. I’ll see you after the show, okay?” Katya waved happily, then turned and disappeared into a small group of faeries, most of whom Laurel recognized from the Academy. A few of them were staring at her unashamedly. She had been so busy looking at the scenery that she hadn’t noticed the faeries in the mezzanine stealing long looks at her and Tamani. It took her a moment to realize why.
Katya and Mara weren’t the only ones in full bloom. The blossoms dotting the mezzanine were small and unassuming compared with those Laurel had seen this summer, tending toward single colors and simple shapes, like hers. But they were all in bloom; every single female Fall.
Except her.
Laurel thought about the temperature in Avalon; it was a little bit cooler than when she had been there in the summer, but only just. She wondered how the faeries’ bodies knew when to bloom. Was it the angle of the sun? The slight changes in temperature? It did make sense that Avalon’s temperate weather would delay autumn blooming — and maybe prolong blossoming — but for how long? Laurel made a mental note to find out more about blossoming when she was in Avalon next summer. Until then, she could only conclude that something was different between Avalon and Crescent City. Two days earlier, two degrees higher, and maybe she wouldn’t have felt so out of place.
Lifting her chin resolutely, Laurel walked to the edge of the balcony. She touched Tamani’s arm and looked down at his hands. Sure enough, at some point he had pulled on a pair of black velvety gloves. Even he had noticed. Refusing to dwell on it, Laurel looked at the main floor below her, turning her attention from the decorations to the faeries themselves. Their apparel was much plainer and Laurel didn’t see many sparkles of jewelry, but the Spring faeries looked completely happy. Hugs were shared, children were caught up in embraces, greetings exchanged, and even from her spot so far above, peals of laughter found their way to Laurel’s ears.
“Are they all Spring faeries?” Laurel asked.
“Most of them,” Tamani said. “There are a few Summer faeries who are too young to perform, but most of the Summer faeries are involved in the show.”
“Is…” She hesitated. “Is Rowen down there?”
“Somewhere. With my sister.”
Laurel nodded, not knowing what else to say. She hadn’t considered that accompanying her meant Tamani wouldn’t be able to sit with his family. A familiar guilt filled her. It was too easy to believe that Tamani lived only for her, that his life did not exist at all except where it intersected her own. To forget that there were other people who loved him.
The buzz of the crowd changed abruptly, and the faeries below the mezzanine all looked up with an air of anticipation.
Laurel felt Tamani’s hand around her arm and suddenly he was half escorting, half dragging her to a seat several rows farther away from the center of the mezzanine. “This should be the Winter faeries,” Tamani whispered. “Jamison, Yasmine, and Her Majesty, Queen Marion.”
Laurel’s throat tightened as she turned away from Tamani, her attention — like all the other faeries — on the archway at the top of the mezzanine. She wasn’t sure whether she was more surprised that there were only three, or that there were as many as three. She’d only ever considered Jamison and the elusive Queen before.
An entourage of guards in sky-blue uniforms came through first; Laurel recognized them from the last time she’d seen Jamison. They were followed immediately by Jamison himself, dressed in deep green robes with his usual twinkling smile. He was escorting a young girl who looked about twelve, her smooth, ebony skin and carefully arranged ringlets setting off an extremely formal gown of pale purple silk. Then the entire coliseum seemed to breathe in all at once as the Queen entered.
She was wearing a shimmering white dress with a train of glittering threading that curled up from the ground
