Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “See? Told you. Foreign exchange.”

Tamani was shifting the weight of a black backpack from shoulder to shoulder, looking bored. Looking human. That by itself was almost as jarring as his being here in the first place. And then he was looking at her again, less openly now, his glance veiled beneath dark eyelashes.

Laurel fought to breathe evenly. She didn’t know what to think. Avalon wouldn’t send him here without reason, and Laurel couldn’t imagine Tamani abandoning his post.

“You okay?” Chelsea asked, stepping up beside Laurel. “You look kinda freaked.”

Before she could stop herself, Laurel flicked her eyes in Tamani’s direction—a move Chelsea tracked instantly. “It’s Tamani,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as relieved—or terrified—as she felt.

She must have succeeded, because Chelsea only stared in disbelief. “The hot one?” she whispered.

Laurel nodded.

“Seriously?” Chelsea squealed, only to be cut off by a sharp gesture from Laurel. Laurel glanced covertly over at Tamani to see if she’d been caught. The tick of a smile at one corner of his mouth told her she had.

Then the foreign exchange students were following Mr. Robison down the hallway, away from Laurel. Just before Tamani disappeared around the corner, he looked back at Laurel and winked. Not for the first time, she was supremely grateful she couldn’t blush.

She turned to David. He was staring down at her, his eyes full of questions.

Laurel sighed and held her hands up in front of her. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“It’s a good thing, right?” David said after they’d managed to detangle themselves from Chelsea and Ryan and stood together in front of Laurel’s first class. Laurel couldn’t remember the last time the one-minute warning bell had made her feel so anxious. “I mean, you thought you were never going to see him again, and now he’s here.”

“It is good to see him,” Laurel said softly, leaning forward to wrap both arms around David’s waist, “but I’m also scared of what it means. For us. Not us,” Laurel corrected, fighting the unfamiliar awkwardness that seemed to be worming its way between them. “But it has to mean we’re in danger, right?”

David nodded. “I’m trying not to think about that. He’ll tell us eventually, right?”

Laurel looked up with one eyebrow cocked and after a moment they both burst out laughing.

“I guess we can’t count on it, can we?” David took her right hand in his, pressing it to his lips and examining the silver-and-crystal bracelet he had given her almost two years ago, when they first got together. “I’m glad you still wear this.”

“Every day,” Laurel said. Wishing they had more time to talk, she pulled David close for one last kiss before hurrying into her Government class and grabbing the last seat next to the wall full of windows. Small windows, but she would take whatever natural sunlight she could get.

Her mind wandered as Mrs. Harms handed out the syllabus and talked about class requirements; it was easy to tune her out, especially in light of Tamani’s sudden reappearance. Why was he here? If she was in some kind of danger, what could it be? She hadn’t seen a single troll since leaving Barnes at the lighthouse. Could this have something to do with Klea, the mysterious troll hunter who killed him? No one had seen her lately, either; as far as Laurel could tell, Klea had moved on to other hunting grounds. Maybe this was some other crisis entirely?

Regardless, David was right—Laurel was happy to see Tamani. More than happy. She felt somehow comforted by his presence. And he had winked at her! As if the last eight months had never happened. As if he had never walked away. As if she had never come to tell him good-bye. Her thoughts drifted to the brief moments spent in his arms, the soft feel of his lips on hers in those few times when self-control had slipped through her fingers. The memories were so vivid that Laurel found herself lightly touching her mouth.

The classroom door swung open suddenly, startling Laurel from her thoughts. Mr. Robison entered, Tamani following close behind.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mr. Robison said. “Boys and girls?” Laurel hated how adults could combine two perfectly serviceable words into such a condescending phrase. “You might have heard that we have some foreign exchange students from Japan this year. Tam”—Laurel blanched at the counselor’s use of her pet name for Tamani—“isn’t technically in the foreign exchange program, but he just moved here from Scotland. I hope you will treat him with the same courtesy you have always shown our other exchange guests. Tam? Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself.”

Mr. Robison clapped one hand against Tamani’s shoulder. Tamani’s eyes darted briefly to the school counselor and Laurel could only imagine how Tamani would have preferred to respond. But irritation showed on his face for less than a second, and Laurel doubted anyone else noticed. He grinned lopsidedly and shrugged. “I’m Tam Collins.”

Half the girls in the class sighed softly at Tamani’s lilting brogue.

“I’m from Scotland. A little outside of Perth—not the Australia one—and . . .” He paused, as if searching for anything else about himself that the students might find interesting.

Laurel could think of a few things.

“I live with my uncle. Have since I was a kid.” He turned and smiled at the teacher. “And I know nothing about Government,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Not this one, anyway.”