“Is it like the red stuff in the Academy?” Laurel asked, her voice shaking.
“Please,” Klea said mockingly, “that potion is child’s play compared to this. I wouldn’t get too worked up, if I were you,” she added, her eyebrow raising as she took in Tamani with a hint of a smile. “Sit down and relax, or it’ll just spread faster.”
“You’ve got it, too.” Laurel could see the darkness spreading from the shallow cut on Klea’s neck.
A sly smile spread across Klea’s face. “But unlike you, I have the cure.”
Hope burst to life in Laurel’s chest as Klea held out a hand, two sugar-glass vials of serum on her outstretched palm. Laurel lunged forward, grasping.
“Not so fast,” Klea said, yanking the vials out of Laurel’s reach and closing her fist over them. “I want you to hear me out. And don’t think you can get out of this by making a cure yourself,” she added. “Nothing short of the viridefaeco potion can save them from this toxin. And that is so far beyond you.” Klea chuckled. “So far beyond anyone at the Academy.”
Viridefaeco. It was a word Laurel knew from her very first day in the classroom at the Academy, two summers ago. She had since learned that it was a healing potion no one knew how to make anymore – not even Yeardley.
“What do you want?” Laurel said.
“I want you to join me,” Klea said, her voice almost casual as she spun the vials artfully through her nimble fingers. “Be my ambassador.”
“Why would I do that?” Laurel spat. Klea had lost! She was dying! How could she still be acting as though everything was going according to plan?
“You mean, besides saving him?” Her head tilted scornfully at Tamani. “Because, when it comes right down to it, we both want the same thing.”
Laurel narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t see how that could possibly be true.”
“That’s because you’re a shallow, gullible child,” Klea said, sneering. “You only see what’s on the surface; that’s why it’s been so easy to manipulate you over the years. For me, and for them.” Klea nodded toward Jamison, still prone in the grass at the side of the road.
Laurel pressed her lips together against the insult.
“I, on the other hand, am the most talented Mixer Avalon has ever seen. Even you can’t deny that. I made things beyond the wildest imaginings of those stodgy Academy lapdogs. Sometimes, things they didn’t want to see. Poisons, like this one,” she said, pointing to her own neck.
“What they never understood is that it’s only by becoming familiar with poisons that you can make the best antidotes. It’s true,” Klea said when Laurel raised her eyebrows. “You can say what you want about the poison they had me mix for your mother, but that line of research led me to formulas that could do for humans what we already do for faeries – treat any ailment, heal any wound, even reverse old age! Avalon has forgotten how much humans have to offer and would prefer to forget they exist at all – certainly no one wants to make potions to help them.
“The Council was furious. Told me I was overstepping my bounds. They called me Unseelie and exiled me.” She leaned forwards. “They do this kind of thing all the time. Lies, double standards. Avalon is built on deception – deception, and prejudice.”
But Laurel refused to be manipulated by clever words and half truths; even if Klea had been legitimately wronged, nothing could justify the destruction she’d wrought. “So you decided to kill everybody? How is that better? All of those soldiers at the gate, the faeries in the Academy.” Tamani, Yuki, she added in her mind, then had to push the thought away before despair overwhelmed her. Laurel had to keep Klea talking. She had to get her hands on that antidote.
“You’re too sensitive.”
Laurel thought of Yeardley’s words and the tiny red flower in her pocket. “I’m no more sensitive than I should be – than any Autumn faerie should be.”
“Irrational, then. You think I’m a monster, don’t you? That I simply go around killing people, thinking, Huzzah, death!” She shook her head with a smile. “I never sacrifice anything for nothing. The Autumn faeries would have been the most resistant to change. They don’t feel oppressed and they work for their high positions. They feel justifiably elevated. But with most of them gone, Avalon will need me for my skills, and the Spring and Summer fae will be more likely to accept the change that’s coming.”
“You’ve destroyed the Academy, the labs, the gardens full of specimens; your Mixer skills aren’t worth much without those.”
“You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
Laurel forced herself to say nothing.
“One of my specialties is delayed effects. I was able to hide my research for years by Mixing potions that had no apparent effect – so later, when they kicked in, the effects would be blamed on the failure of some other Mixing. The mist I set off in the tower is short-term – it’s neutralising as we speak. The firewalls will preserve most of the structure – not to mention the components. The smoke damage will be extensive, I admit, but the labs will be completely useable in a quarter of an hour. I will have everything I need to rebuild Avalon.”
“And the thousands you killed?” Laurel demanded.
“Even with the fae deaths, on balance I’ve done Avalon a huge favour. Thanks to my serum and my recruiting efforts, as of today trolls are effectively extinct on the entire Pacific Rim.”
“It was your vaccine,” Laurel realised, remembering the way the trolls had fallen so suddenly, dead where they stood. “It killed them.”
“Like I said,” Klea purred with a smile. “Delayed effects.”
“Why kill them so soon? Why not keep them around to help you with your takeover?”
“Trust trolls?” Klea laughed. “Those filthy animals just wanted to sack Avalon. They thought they were using me to get here, and they intended for me to die as surely as I intended the same fate for them. The second the trolls passed through the gate I couldn’t have convinced them to protect me from a faerie child, much less a Bender. The timing was delicate and almost ruined by your stupid high-school dance, but in the end they had to die – that was always the plan.”
“That’s horrible,” Laurel said.
Klea shrugged. “Well, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”
“And were the sentries some of your eggs?” Tamani demanded. “Do you have any idea how many faeries died today?”
“Thousands,” Klea said, her voice deadly serious. “And their martyrdom is the foundation on which I will build a new order.” She hesitated. “I admit things could have gone better. I never expected Excalibur – especially not with Marion in charge – so I had to change things up and send in some sleeping mist at the gate.”
Was that regret in her voice? Over a change of plans? The woman really was stark-raving mad.
“But what’s done is done. And I’m out of time to reminisce. The smoke from the Academy fire will keep the Sparklers’ and Ticers’ attention away from our little party here, but it is also likely to woo the Benders out before I’m ready. Laurel, look here,” Klea said, opening her hand to reveal the two vials again – one containing a dark green solution, one a deep purple. “One of these is just a vial of the serum I injected into the trolls. The other is viridefaeco. Do as I ask, and I will give you the potion. Refuse and” – she clenched her fists, not quite hard enough to break the vials – “the serums will mix, their components will neutralise each other, and the cure will be useless.”
Laurel hesitated. But at this point it didn’t hurt to at least find out what Klea’s terms were. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter, Laurel. Don’t help her!” Tamani called, his voice full of desperation.
“You think yours is the only life at stake here, Ticer?” Klea snapped at Tamani. “Even as we sit talking, looking so innocent and pathetic in the grass, this toxin is spreading right out of your skin – to the grass you’re sitting on, t
o the roots Yuki has so kindly wrapped around me. To the trees in the forest, to Jamison lying over there at death’s door anyway. It won’t stop. In time, it will remake Avalon into a barren rock. And without me, you will never be able to make the antidote in time.”
Klea turned back to Laurel. “Go to Marion and Yasmine,” she said evenly.
“How do you know about Yasmine?” Laurel asked. “She sprouted after you were exiled.”
“How many times have you spoken of her when you thought you were all alone?”
Laurel’s jaw snapped shut.
“You’ll be able to get past the sentries,” Klea continued as if Laurel hadn’t spoken. “Tell them about my poison, that all of Avalon is going to die. They can save their precious island by coming down and exchanging their lives for my assistance in curing everyone and everything.”
“And if they accept?” Laurel asked.
“Then they will be executed in Spring Square – a public example declaring the end of the pathetic Bender dynasty. Avalon will live, and I will take over.”
“Yasmine’s only a child,” Laurel said, her stomach writhing at Klea’s brutality.
“Sacrifices, Laurel. We all have to make them.”
“And Jamison?”
“I need all the Benders gone.”
Laurel sucked in a breath but Klea continued smoothly.
“You know Marion isn’t a good queen. I seriously doubt a child she trained could be any better. The Benders need to go. Avalon needs a change. With your help, I can still make that happen. Bring them, and I’ll give you the cure for Tamani.”
Laurel didn’t think there was room in her body for the hatred she felt towards this smug faerie.
“Not only that, I’ll make more – and as a show of good faith, I’ll teach you how. Because you’ll need it. This vial,” she said, lifting her hand, “will cure, at most, two people.”
“And if I choose to use it on them?” Laurel asked, pointing to Tamani and Yuki. “What then? You’ll die.”
“Then who will teach you to make the antidote to save everyone else?”
Laurel wanted to scream. No matter what she chose, someone was going to die. “You would kill all of Avalon, just to have your way?” Laurel said, her voice quivering.
“It’s not my choice, Laurel. It’s yours. Will you kill all of Avalon, just to get your way?”
Laurel forced herself to keep breathing. Now there really was no way out. Not through Yeardley, not through Jamison. If she didn’t do as Klea asked, Tamani was going to die.
And slowly, so would everyone else.
If she delivered Marion and Yasmine to Klea, Tamani would live.
Everyone would live.
Three lives for all of Avalon.
And for Tamani.
There was only one thing to do.
“All right,” Laurel said slowly, looking Klea squarely in the eye. “I will bring you the Winter faeries.”
“Laurel, no!” Tamani said, lifting one knee as if to rise.
“Just don’t move,” Laurel said to Tamani, hearing the desperation in her own voice as she stepped towards him. “I need you alive when I get back!”
“Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “I would rather die than live under her rule.”
“But it’s not just you,” Laurel whispered. “It’s everyone.”
“But Klea?” Tamani said, lifting one hand reflexively, as if to grasp hers, before clenching his fist and letting it drop to his side.
Laurel shook her head. “I can’t stand to the side and let everyone die when I can do something about it.” She realised she was talking loud – almost shouting – and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Then, a voice that didn’t sound quite like her own said, “I can’t and I won’t.”
“Laurel.”
David’s voice made Laurel pause.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Not so fast,” Klea said. “She goes alone, or I crush the vials and everyone dies.”
“Stay,” Laurel said, reaching out a hand that slid off David’s arm. “Just in case things go wrong. Help Jamison. Do what you can for him.” She raised her voice a little. “I’m going to head up the road – the wide one that leads to the palace.”
She looked hard at David, hoping he would trust her just once more, and after a moment, he nodded.
“You’d better hurry,” Klea said. “No telling how long it will take the Ticers and Sparklers to find us and come investigate – not to mention tromp around and get infected themselves. I’d say your friends here have an hour at the absolute most. Probably less. And, of course, you’ll want to get back before I expire,” Klea said with a sly grin that made Laurel want to slap her. “I trust you can convince two frightened Benders in less time than that?”
Wordlessly Laurel walked to Klea’s captive minions. They were remarkably docile; none of them protested as she checked their belts, finding a fifteen centimetre-long blade on the third one.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Klea asked.
Laurel looked over, her eyes wide and innocent. “I have to convince a queen,” she said simply. “I’m going to need a knife.”
Before anyone could react, Laurel turned and headed up the long, sharply pitched pathway that led to the Winter Palace.
After Tamani watched Laurel disappear into the trees, he turned his attention to Klea. It was all Tamani could do to not pick up his spear and finish her off, right here and now. But she had backed them into a corner, and seemed to know it. She was lying on her back, one hand tucked behind her head, looking for all the world like an idle stargazer except for the fist she had clenched against her chest. She wasn’t even trying to worm free of the roots that Tamani was pleased to note still held her bound.
David was kneeling next to Jamison, trying to adjust him so he lay more naturally. He’d given Tamani a thumbs-up after checking his breathing, but even the confirmation that the Winter faerie was alive had trouble piercing through the gloom of their hopeless situation.
Tamani kept a sharp eye on Klea, more than a little afraid she would drink the viridefaeco potion the moment their backs were turned. But she seemed content to wait.
If anything, her faerie soldiers were even more docile than their commander. Their faces were slack and their frames hung limply against their bonds. The strange fae had bothered him since he’d first seen them.
Tamani looked over at Klea. “What’s wrong with them?” he asked stiffly.
Klea glanced up and a little smile played at the corners of her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re perfect.”
“They’re not people,” Tamani said, finally putting his finger on it. “They’re empty shells.”
“Like I said, perfect.”
“You did this to them?”
“Genetics, Tamani. It’s a fascinating field.” Then she turned away, clearly ending the conversation.
“It doesn’t matter when Laurel gets back,” David said quietly, back near Tamani now that Jamison was taken care of. David pointed to the ground where Klea’s knife had fallen; the poison that lingered on the blade had blackened the grass, and the blackness was spreading in a deadly sunburst. “If we don’t stop this, I’m not sure that even Klea’s cure will be enough.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Tamani said, letting his gaze fall to the ground. He faced down the urge to rise to his feet and chase after Laurel. Even if Klea hadn’t made him a plague bearer, what could he hope to accomplish? Surely Laurel didn’t intend to help Klea, did she?
No, of course she didn’t. She would do the right thing.
Assuming there was a right thing.
Tamani looked up as David plunged Excalibur into the ground, burying it to the hilt a few metres away. He set to pulling it through the earth like a plough.
“What are you doing?” Tamani asked.
“I’m digging a moat,” David replied.
“A moat?” Tamani asked, lost.
“It won’
t stop the poison,” David said, still digging, “but at least it will have to go down through the grass roots before it can spread further. It’ll buy us some time.”
Tamani let himself smile, ever so slightly. “Brilliant.”
David grinned back and returned to his task.
“Tam?”
Yuki’s voice was soft and rasping. She had gotten to her feet with visible effort, but after only a few steps her legs collapsed beneath her. Tamani rolled forwards to catch her, pulling her towards him to break her fall. He was surprised by how much energy it took to lower her gently to the ground, how breathless the simple action made him.
This poison is no joke. And he had barely been exposed at all; Yuki’s wound was serious – potentially life-threatening by itself.
“Tam, I’m so sorry. For all of this.” A single tear, glistening in the moonlight, slid down her porcelain cheek. She sniffled and looked away timidly, drawing a stuttering breath. “I didn’t know.” She hesitated. “I didn’t understand just how much she . . .”
“Yuki—”
“When I saw the flames at the Academy, I thought . . . I was so afraid—”
“Yuki, please.” He couldn’t bear to relive it, the fear that had gripped him there.
“I just . . . I don’t want to die with you hating me.”
“Shh,” Tamani said, bringing his hand to her cheek, brushing away the tear and leaving a tiny streak of glittering pollen. “I don’t hate you, Yuki. I . . .” He faltered, unsure what to say.
“Do you remember, after the dance? When you brought me to your apartment?”
Tamani wanted to squeeze his eyes shut. When he’d lied to her? Betrayed her as deeply as he ever could? Oh yes, he remembered.
“I was going to confess everything. I was going to join you and fight against Klea. You were right – I was always afraid of her. But that night, you made me feel strong. Like I could do anything. And I was going to. I was going to try.”
“I know,” Tamani said softly. He reached out for her, drawing her in the way he had at the winter dance only the night before. But this time, he meant it. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you.”