And everywhere she looked Laurel saw shimmering diamonds, swatches of golden silk, elaborate tapestries celebrating the history of Avalon. Dark corners were lit with gold orbs like the one Tamani had used on Laurel more than a year ago, after she’d been thrown in the Chetco. Here and there, wreaths of flowers or piles of fruit adorned randomly distributed pillars of wood or stone.

Laurel took a deep breath and began walking forward, wondering where to sit. After a few seconds, she looked back, sensing Tamani was no longer with her. He remained by the archway, looking as though he intended to stay there.

“Hey!” she said, striding back to him. “Come on, Tam.”

He shook his head. “It’s just for the show. I’ll wait for you here, and we’ll go to the revelries afterward.”

“No,” Laurel said. She walked to his side and laid a hand on his arm. “Please come with me,” she said quietly.

“I can’t,” Tamani said. “It’s not my place.”

“I say it’s your place.”

“Take it up with the Queen,” Tamani said sardonically.

“I will.”

Alarm filled his voice now. “No, Laurel. I can’t. I’ll just cause trouble.”

“Then I’ll stay here with you,” she said, slipping her hand into his.

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 they think you’re a second-class—oh, excuse me, fourth-class citizen—you think you are too. Why?”

“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 I think than what they think.”

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.