Spells

as well as with the Egyptians and Japanese.” He laughed. “In Japan, we had extensive contact with the Ainu — the people who lived there before the Japanese arrived.” He grinned. “Though even the Ainu never quite comprehended how long before them we were there.”

“Hundreds of years?” Laurel guessed.

“Thousands,” Tamani said solemnly. “The fae are far older than humans. But humans have reproduced and spread much faster than us. And they are just plain heartier. Certainly more capable of surviving extreme temperatures. It’s only with the help of Fall faeries that our sentries manage to survive the winters at the gate on Hokkaido. Because of that, humans have come to dominate the world, so we have to learn to live among them, at least a little. And language is a big part of that. We have a training facility in Scotland, where, as you know, they speak English. Every sentry with dealings in the human world must train there, at least for a few weeks.”

“So you and Shar trained there?”

“Among others.” Tamani was growing increasingly animated, speaking without the hesitation that always clouded his behavior when he set foot in Avalon. “Covert operations are usually performed by Sparklers, and very rarely a Mixer will need an ingredient that doesn’t grow in Avalon. The manor is built around the gateway, in the middle of a sizable game preserve, so it guards the gate as well as forming a safely controlled connection to human affairs. It was acquired centuries ago, in much the same way we’re working to acquire your land.”

Laurel smiled at Tamani’s enthusiasm. He clearly knew more about the human world than other faeries, not simply because he lived there but because he’d spent his life studying humans.

And he did it so he could understand me. He’d dedicated literally years to understanding the person she would become as a human. She’d sacrificed her memories and left Avalon at the former Queen’s bidding and Tamani had followed her in more ways than one. It was a startling realization.

“Anyway,” Tamani concluded, “the manor has been our main connection to the world outside Avalon for centuries, so it’s only natural that we would speak the language of the humans who live nearby. But even the experts at the manor get some things badly wrong, so I guess I can’t feel too bad about forgetting a word here and there.”

“I think you do great,” Laurel said, running one finger along Tamani’s arm.

Almost instinctively, Tamani reached up and covered her hand with his own. Laurel’s eyes fixed on that hand. It looked so harmless sitting there, but it meant something and Laurel knew it. She looked up, and their eyes locked. A long moment of silence stretched out between them, and after a few seconds Laurel pulled her hand out from under Tamani’s. His expression didn’t change, but Laurel felt bad nonetheless.

She covered the awkwardness of the moment by pouring herself a drink from the first pitcher she saw and taking a big swallow. It tasted like liquified sugar as it coursed down her throat. “Oh man, what is this?” she asked, peering down at the ruby-red liquid in her glass.

Tamani glanced over. “Amrita.”

Laurel studied it dubiously. “Is it like faerie wine?” she asked, already feeling the drink going to her head.

“Kind of. It’s nectar from the flowers of the Yggdrasil tree. They only bring it out at Samhain. It’s a traditional way to toast the New Year.”

“It’s awesome.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Tamani laughed.

Laurel sighed. “I am stuffed.” Only the food in Avalon ever pushed Laurel to eat to discomfort. And she had just reached that point.

“All done then?” Tamani asked, hesitation creeping back into his tone.

“Oh, yes. Totally done,” Laurel said, smiling and settling down a little more into the pile of pillows.

“Would you…” He paused and looked out into the middle of the meadow. “Would you like to ask me to dance?”

Laurel sat up abruptly. “Would I like to ask you to dance?”

Tamani looked down at his lap. “I apologize if I was too forward.”

But Laurel scarcely heard him in her anger. “Even at a festival you can’t just ask me?”

“Is that a no?”

Something in his tone turned Laurel’s frustration into sorrow. It wasn’t Tamani’s fault. But she hated that even with her, he felt bound by the ridiculous social customs. She raised her chin and pushed back her indignance. She didn’t want to punish him. “Tamani, would you like to dance?”

His eyes softened. “I’d love to.”

Laurel looked out at the dancers and hesitated. “I don’t really know how,” she said tentatively.

“I’ll show you…if you want.”

“Okay.”

Tamani stood and offered her his hand. He had relinquished his cloak but still wore the black breeches and boots, paired with a loose white shirt with the strings loosened in the front, accentuating his tanned chest. He looked like a hero out of a movie; Wesley from The Princess Bride or Edmond Dantes from The Count of Monte Cristo. Laurel smiled and took his hand.

They wandered closer to a group of musicians; most were playing stringed instruments Laurel could not have named, but she did recognize the woodwinds — flutes and panpipes and something like a simple clarinet. Tamani led her skillfully through dance steps she almost seemed to remember, her feet moving with a grace she didn’t know she had. She bounced and kicked and skipped along with the other couples and, even if she wasn’t quite as graceful as everyone else, she could have held her own at a similar gathering of humans. She danced to another song, and another, until she had lost track of how long they’d been dancing. The sweet-smelling meadow grew more and more crowded as others left their meals to join in the dance, and soon Laurel was awash in a sea of lithe limbs and graceful bodies, rolling and swaying and even crashing to the rhythm of the Summer faeries’ intoxicating music, gauzy clothing fluttering in the temperate air of Avalon’s eternal springtime.

Tamani guided Laurel under his arm in a long string of spins until her head whirled and she collapsed against his chest, laughing and breathing hard. It took her a moment to realize how tightly she was pressed against him. It was different from being close to David; for one thing, Tamani was much nearer to Laurel’s height. Standing so close, their hips met snugly.

She felt his arm tight at her back, holding her in. He would probably let go if she pushed away, but she didn’t. His fingers ran through her hair, then cradled the back of her neck, tilting her face back. He let his nose rest softly against hers and his breath was cool against her face as her fingers curled against the bare skin between the laces of his shirt.

“Laurel.” Tamani’s whisper was so quiet she wasn’t completely sure she’d heard it at all. And before she could think to protest, he kissed her.

His mouth was so soft, gentle, and tender against hers. The sweet taste of him melted into her. The dancing around them became a leisurely waltz as the earth seemed to slow in its orbit, then stop, just for her and Tamani.

Just for a moment.

The illusion shattered as Laurel turned her head, breaking contact, and forced herself to walk away. Out of the green, away from the dancers. Away from Tamani.

Angry, confused feelings spun through her as she walked out of the clearing. Tamani followed but said nothing.

“I should go,” she said vaguely, not turning to face him. And it wasn’t an empty excuse. She wasn’t sure just how long she’d been dancing, but probably too long. She had to get back. She headed in what she guessed was the general direction of the gate, hoping she would start to recognize her surroundings. She waited, optimistically, for Tamani’s hand to touch her waist, gently guiding her in the right direction as he had so many times before.

No such luck.

“You could at least apologize,” Laurel said. Her mood had turned sullen and she wasn’t quite sure why. Her head was a mess of confusion.

“I’m not sorry,” Tamani said, his tone not apologetic in the least.

“Well, you should be!” Laurel said, turning toward him for just a second.

“Why?” Tamani asked, his voice annoyingly calm.