“Why don’t I remember?”
“I told you I can make humans forget they saw me, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s what they did to you. Once you were at the age that you could pass for a human child, they made you forget your faerie life.”
“Like, with a potion or something?”
“Yes.”
Laurel sat stunned. “They made me forget seven years of my life?”
Tamani nodded solemnly.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
They sat in silence for several minutes as Laurel tried to comprehend what this meant for her. She began adding up the years Tamani claimed she had lost. “I’m nineteen?” she asked in amazement.
“Technically, yes. But you’re still just like a fifteen-year-old human.”
“How old are you?” she asked, anger heavy in her voice. “Fifty?”
“Twenty-one,” Tamani said quietly. “We’re almost the same age.”
“So they just made me forget everything?”
Tamani shrugged, his face tense.
Laurel’s tight clutch on her temper came loose. “Did you guys even think this through? A million things could have gone wrong. What if my parents didn’t want me? What if they found out I don’t have a heart, or blood, or that I don’t hardly have to breathe? Do you know what most people feed three-year-olds? Milk, cookies, hot dogs! I could have died!”
Tamani shook his head. “What do you take us for? Amateurs? There has rarely been a time in your life when you didn’t have at least five faeries watching you, making sure everything was going smoothly. And it wasn’t like the eating thing was a problem. That’s why you were selected in the first place.”
“Didn’t I forget what I was supposed to eat?”
“That’s the cool thing about Fall faeries. Part of their magic is knowing intrinsically what is good and bad for themselves as well as other faeries. They have to, in order to make their elixirs. We knew you wouldn’t eat something bad for you of your own free will. The only thing we had to watch for was that your parents didn’t force-feed you. Which they never did,” he said before she could ask. “We had everything completely under control. Well,” he added reluctantly, “till you left.”
“Till I left? If you were watching me so closely, you should have known we were moving.”
“We stopped watching you as closely a few years ago. I insisted. I’m…kind of in charge of you right now. You weren’t a child anymore. In terms of faerie age, you were more than an adult. The signs of you being a faerie weren’t as obvious. You didn’t fall down very often, and your parents were used to your eating habits. I felt you deserved a little more privacy. I thought you would appreciate it,” he added morosely.
“I probably would have if I had known,” Laurel conceded.
Tamani sighed. “But I pulled back too far and we totally missed you moving until the movers showed up. I wanted to go extreme and stop everything right then. Dope the movers, take you back to the realm, call the whole damn project a wash. But…let’s just say I was outvoted. So you and your parents took off in the car and then you were just…gone.” He laughed humorlessly. “Boy, did I get in trouble.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You came back. Everything’s all right now.”
She looked at him warily. “Are you going to follow me home and move into my backyard since you apparently like to watch me so much?”
He laughed. “No. We’re fine right here, thanks. Mostly we were worried about you blossoming and having major problems with that. Luckily, you managed just fine.”
“So I’ll live there and you’ll just keep living out here?”
“For the time being.”
“Then what was the point of me being a…a scion? Was I just an experiment?”
“No. Not at all.” Tamani let out a loud, exasperated breath, then looked around the clearing quickly. “The point of sending you here was to help protect this land. It’s…an important spot for faeries. It’s imperative that someone who understands be in possession of the land. That’s the main reason you were placed with them. When your mom’s mother died, your mom got really bitter and immediately put this place up for sale. She was nineteen and I guess it just held too many memories.”
“She’s told me about that.”
Tamani nodded. “Things got better when she married your dad, but she never did stop trying to sell. That’s when the Seelie Court came up with the idea of adding you to her family. Worked even better than they had hoped. After your mom really bonded with you, she stopped trying to sell. Other than an occasional buyer who comes through now and then, that part of our job has been easy. It seems to be pretty much all downhill now.” Tamani leaned back with his hands stretched behind his head. “We just sit back and wait for you to inherit.”
Laurel looked down at her hands. “What if I don’t inherit? What if—what if my parents sell?”
“They can’t sell,” he said matter-of-factly.
Her head jerked up. “Why not?”
Tamani smiled slyly. “You can’t sell a house if no one remembers it exists.”
“Huh?”
“Seeing us isn’t the only thing we can make humans forget.”
Laurel’s eyes widened as she understood. “You’ve been sabotaging them! You made people forget they’d even seen the house.”
“We had to.”
“And the appraisers?”
“Trust me, it would be too tempting if your mom found out how much this land is worth.”
“So you made them forget too?”
“It was necessary, Laurel. Believe me.”
“Um…it didn’t work,” Laurel said quietly.
Tamani’s face turned wary. “What do you mean?” he asked in a low, serious tone.
“My mom’s selling the land.”
“To who? No one’s come out to look. We’d have taken care of it.”
“I don’t know; some guy my dad met in Brookings.”
Tamani leaned forward. “Laurel, this is very important. You can’t let her sell.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, because I live here. I wouldn’t really appreciate being homeless. But—” He glanced around and growled in frustration. “I can’t explain everything right now, but you can’t let her sell. Whatever it takes, you need to talk to her when you get home and do anything you can to convince her to tell this guy no.”
“Um, that could be a problem.”
“Why?”
“The offer’s already in. They’re drawing up the papers soon.”
“Oh, no.” Tamani pushed his hair off his forehead. “This is bad, this is so bad. Shar’s going to kill me.” He sighed. “Can you do anything about it?”
“It’s not really my decision,” Laurel said. “I can’t tell them what to do.”
“I’m just asking you to try. Say…something. We’ll try to figure it out from over here too. If you knew how important this land is to the realm, you wouldn’t sleep until it was safe. I don’t know that I’ll be able to sleep until you come back and tell me it’s safe.”
“Why?”
He released a breath in an exasperated hiss. “I can’t say—it’s forbidden.”
“Forbidden? I’m a faerie, aren’t I?”
“You don’t understand, Laurel. You don’t get to know everything just because you’re one of us—not yet. Even in the realm, young faeries aren’t allowed to enter the human world until they’ve proven their loyalty—if at all. You’re asking me to reveal one of the greatest secrets of our species. You can’t expect that of me.”
Several seconds passed in silence. “I’ll do what I can,” Laurel finally said.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
She forced a smile. “My parents are going to think I’m nuts.”
“That’s okay with me.”
Laurel looked at him for a few seconds before reaching out to smack his shoulder.
&n
bsp; Tamani just laughed.
Then he sobered and stared at her. Hesitantly, he slid closer and let his fingers run down her bare arm. “I’m glad you came today,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I…I think maybe I missed you too.”
“Really?” Hope shone in his eyes so raw that Laurel had to look away and laugh nervously.
“You know, after I got done thinking you were a crazy homeless guy.”
They laughed together and Laurel marveled at the soft, tinkling quality of Tamani’s voice. It made a warm tingle shiver up her back. She glanced at her watch. “I…need to get going,” she said, apology heavy in her voice.
“Come back soon,” Tamani said. “We’ll talk more.”
Laurel smiled. “I’d like that.”
“And you promise you’ll talk to your parents?”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Will you bring me news?”
“As soon as I can. But I don’t know when that will be.”
“Are you going to tell your parents about all this?” Tamani asked.
“I don’t know,” Laurel said. “I don’t really think they’d believe me. Especially since I don’t have the blossom to prove it anymore. That’s how I convinced David.”
“David,” Tamani said with a scoffing tone.
“What’s wrong with David?”
“Nothing, I guess. But are you sure he’s trustworthy?”
“I’m sure.”
Tamani sighed. “I guess you had to tell someone. I don’t like it, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a human. Everyone knows humans can’t be trusted. You should be careful.”
“I don’t have to be careful with him. He wouldn’t tell.”
“I hope you’re right.”
They walked slowly, Laurel leading the way down the familiar path. They stopped at the edge of the tree line. “Are you sure you have to go?” Tamani asked quietly.
Laurel was surprised by the emotion in his voice. She had sensed in their conversation that he liked her…a lot. But this seemed like something more. Something more personal. She was a little surprised to realize that she was reluctant to leave as well. “My parents don’t even know I’m here. I kind of snuck away.”
Tamani nodded. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered.
Laurel laughed nervously. “You hardly know me.”
“I’ll miss you anyway.” He met her eyes. “If I give you something, will you keep it to remember me by—and maybe think of me just a little more?”
“Maybe.” Tamani’s dark green eyes seemed to see through her—into her.
He snapped a thin piece of string from around his neck and held out a small, glistening circle. “This is for you.”
He laid the tiny sparkle on her hand. It was a shining gold circlet, just bigger than a pea, with a minuscule crystal flower on the top. “What is it?” Laurel asked in awe.
“It’s a ring for a seedling,” Tamani replied. “You know, a baby faerie. Every seedling gets a ring when they are young. If you wear it, it grows with you. Winter faeries make them. Well, Spring faeries make them, but Winter faeries enchant them.” He held up his hand to show her a plain silver band. “See, this is mine. It used to be as small as that one. You’re not a seedling anymore, so it won’t adjust to your finger, but I thought maybe you’d like it.”
The tiny ring was exquisite, beautiful in every detail. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“To help you feel more like one of us. You can hang it on a necklace.” He hesitated a moment longer. “I just think you should have it.”
Laurel looked up at him in question, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wished she had more time to draw secrets from him. “I’ll wear it always,” she said.
“And think of me?” His eyes held her captive, and she knew there was only one answer.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She started to turn, but before she could step away, Tamani grabbed her hand. Without breaking eye contact, he raised her hand to his face and brushed his lips over her knuckles. For just a second, his eyes were unguarded. A spark went through Laurel at what she saw there: raw, unbridled desire. Before she could look any closer, he smiled, and the flash was gone.
Laurel walked toward her bike, her breath shallow as she tried to stop the warm flush that was spreading through her body from the place Tamani’s lips had touched. She kept glancing back at him as she rode toward the highway. Every time she turned, his eyes were still locked on her. Even when she pedaled onto the bike path along the road, she could feel them following her long after she could see them.
FIFTEEN
IT WAS FOUR O’CLOCK WHEN LAUREL PARKED HER bike in the garage, way later than any study session could really justify. She braced herself and pushed open the front door.
Her father was napping on the couch, his snores a quiet, familiar rhythm. No threat of trouble from that source. She listened for her mother and heard bottles clinking in the kitchen. “Mom?” she called as she came around the corner.
“There you are. You and David must have gotten that last page done quickly. I only called half an hour ago.”
“Uh, yeah. It was easier than I thought,” she said quickly.
“Did you have a good time? He’s a nice boy.”
Laurel nodded, her mind nowhere near David—about forty-two miles away from David, to be precise.
“Are you two…?”
“What?” Laurel tried to focus on what her mom was saying.
“Well, you spend an awful lot of time over at his house; I thought maybe the two of you were…becoming an item.”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Maybe.”
“It’s just—I know David’s mom sometimes works long hours, so you and David spend a lot of time alone. It’s easy for things to get out of control when you’re in an empty house together.”
“I’ll be careful, Mom,” she said wryly.
“I know you will, but I’m the mom, and I have to say it anyway,” she said with a smile. “Remember,” she added, “just because you haven’t started your period doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t get pregnant.”
“Mom!”
“I’m just saying.”
Laurel thought of Tamani’s words earlier that day. Pollination is for reproduction—sex is just for fun. She wondered what her mom would say if Laurel told her she couldn’t get pregnant—would never start her period. That sex for her was just sex, with no strings attached. If there was anything Laurel could say to truly rattle her mother, that would be it. She was still trying to wrap her mind around it.
“Mom,” Laurel said haltingly, “I wanted to talk to you about the land. It’s been in your family for so long. And we lived there for my whole life.” She ducked her head when she thought of her real origins—her secret home. “As long as I can remember, anyway.” Unexpected tears pricked at her eyes when she looked back up at her mom. “It’s the most magical place in the world. I wish you wouldn’t sell it.”
Her mom looked at her for a long time. “Mr. Barnes is offering us a lot of money, Laurel. All the things you’ve wanted lately that we couldn’t afford would be in our budget again.”
“But what if you didn’t sell? Would we be okay?”
Her mom sighed and thought about that for a moment. “Your dad is doing good business, but there’s no guarantee that will continue.” She leaned forward over the counter on her elbows. “We would have this tight budget for a long time, Laurel. I don’t like living this frugally. You’re not the only one who has to give things up.”
Laurel was quiet for a while. It seemed too monumental a task for a fifteen-year-old girl. But then, she added mentally, I am no ordinary girl. Buoyed up by that thought, she said, “Could you at least think about it? For like, a week?” Laurel added when her mom pursed her lips.
“We’re supposed to sign papers on Wednesday.”
“A week? Please? Just tell Mr. Barnes
you need a week. And if you really think about it for a week, I won’t bother you about it ever again.”
Her mom studied her with skepticism.
“Please?”
Her face softened. “I guess Mr. Barnes probably wouldn’t rescind his offer if I needed one more week.”
Laurel bounded around the bar and hugged her mom. “Thanks,” she whispered. “It means a lot.”
“So he really didn’t tell you much.” David sat on a stool at the bar in his kitchen. His mom was on a date, so he and Laurel had the house to themselves tonight. David was eating microwaved leftovers and Laurel was doodling on a notebook, trying to distract herself from the smell.
“He told me enough,” Laurel said defensively. “It was like he wanted to tell me more, but he wasn’t allowed. I could tell it annoyed him.”
“He sounds kind of weird.”
“He’s definitely different—and not just in his looks.” She paused in the middle of a spiral and looked up, remembering. “He’s so intense. Everything he feels—good or bad—seems enhanced. And contagious.” She started scribbling again. “You want to feel like he does, but there’s just no way you could keep up, because the way he’s feeling changes so quickly. It must be exhausting to be so passionate.” Her body shivered as she found just the right word for him. Passionate, always.
“So are you two, like, friends now?”
“I don’t know.” The truth was that she knew he wanted her. And that, despite trying not to, she felt much the same way. It seemed disloyal spending the evening with David after her day with Tamani. Or maybe she felt disloyal having spent the day with Tamani. It was hard to tell for sure.
She reached up to touch the ring he’d given her, strung on a thin, silver chain. She’d done so at least a hundred times already that day. It brought back the feeling of being with him. In their short visit, they had become more than friends—no, not more, beyond friends. The word friend seemed too paltry to describe the connection they shared. It was more like they had a bond. She couldn’t tell David that. It would be hard enough to explain to an unaffected observer—and David was far from unaffected. If he had any idea of the storm of emotions she felt for Tamani, he would be terribly jealous.