walls that enclosed the gates and into Avalonâs earthy resplendence. Laurel paused to savor the islandâs sweet air; the sheer perfection of nature in Avalon was enough to take anyoneâs breath away. Evening was already falling, and a brilliant sunset was painting itself across the Western horizon. âIâm sorry Jamison could not come and greet you himself,â Yasmine said, addressing Laurel, âbut he has asked that I bring you to him.â
âWhere is he?â Laurel asked. She hadnât intended to disturb Jamison in the middle of something important.
âIn the Winter Palace,â Yasmine said casually.
Laurel stopped in her tracks and looked up the hill to where the crumbling white marble spires of the Winter Palace could just be seen. She glanced back at Tamani. He stared resolutely at the ground, but a slight tremor of his hands, clasped in front of him, showed her that the thought of entering the sanctuary of the Winter faeries frightened him even more than it frightened her.
Chapter Seven
LAUREL LOOKED UP AT THE WINTER PALACE AS THEY approached it on a sharply sloped path. She had noted the green vines that supported large portions of the structure from afar, but as they drew closer she could see where tiny threads sprouted from the vines, enmeshing themselves in the shimmering white stone, encasing the castle in a loverâs embrace. Laurel had never seen a building that looked so alive !
At the top of the slope, they came to an enormous white archway. On either side sprawled the disintegrating ruins of what must have once been a magnificent wall, and as they passed into the courtyard, Laurel saw that she was surrounded by destruction. Crumbling relicsâfrom statues and fountains to sections of the destroyed wallâjutted incongruously from the beautifully manicured lawn. Nowhere else had Laurel seen such disrepair in Avalon. Everything at the Academy was fixed as soon as it was broken, every structure meticulously maintained. Everywhere else she had visited in Avalon seemed much the sameâbut not the palace. Laurel couldnât imagine why.
Inside, however, the palace was bustling with faeries dressed in crisp white uniforms, polishing every surface and watering hundreds of plants potted in elaborately crafted urns. It had the same familiar neatness and luxury that Laurel had gotten used to at the Academy.
She and Tamani followed Yasmine to the foot of a wide, grand staircase. The more steps they mounted, the quieter the chamber grew. At first Laurel thought it was a trick of acoustics, but by the time they were halfway up the staircase, the entire room was silent.
Laurel ventured a glance over her shoulder. Tamani was right behind her, but his hands, which had been trembling very slightly before, were now clasped so tightly Laurel imagined he must be hurting himself. Every faerie servant on the floor below them was staring, dusters and watering cans held limply in their unmoving hands. Even the Am fear-faire had stopped at the foot of the stairs, not following when Yasmine began her ascent.
âWeâre going into the upper rooms of the Winter Palace,â Tamani whispered quietly, his voice strained. â No one goes into the upper rooms. Except Winter faeries, I mean.â
Laurel looked up to the top of the stairs. Rather than opening into a wide foyer, as she had expected, they ended in a huge set of double doors, heavily gilded where they showed through a thick hanging of vines. They were the largest doors Laurel had ever seen. They looked too big, too heavy, for Yasmine to move at all.
But the young faerie didnât pause as she reached them. She raised both her hands in front of her, palms out, and made a gentle pushing motion toward the doors without actually touching them. There was visible effort in her movement, as though something in the air was pushing back at her, and gradually, with the rustling of greenery, the doors glided open,
âWhere is he?â Laurel asked. She hadnât intended to disturb Jamison in the middle of something important.
âIn the Winter Palace,â Yasmine said casually.
Laurel stopped in her tracks and looked up the hill to where the crumbling white marble spires of the Winter Palace could just be seen. She glanced back at Tamani. He stared resolutely at the ground, but a slight tremor of his hands, clasped in front of him, showed her that the thought of entering the sanctuary of the Winter faeries frightened him even more than it frightened her.
Chapter Seven
LAUREL LOOKED UP AT THE WINTER PALACE AS THEY approached it on a sharply sloped path. She had noted the green vines that supported large portions of the structure from afar, but as they drew closer she could see where tiny threads sprouted from the vines, enmeshing themselves in the shimmering white stone, encasing the castle in a loverâs embrace. Laurel had never seen a building that looked so alive !
At the top of the slope, they came to an enormous white archway. On either side sprawled the disintegrating ruins of what must have once been a magnificent wall, and as they passed into the courtyard, Laurel saw that she was surrounded by destruction. Crumbling relicsâfrom statues and fountains to sections of the destroyed wallâjutted incongruously from the beautifully manicured lawn. Nowhere else had Laurel seen such disrepair in Avalon. Everything at the Academy was fixed as soon as it was broken, every structure meticulously maintained. Everywhere else she had visited in Avalon seemed much the sameâbut not the palace. Laurel couldnât imagine why.
Inside, however, the palace was bustling with faeries dressed in crisp white uniforms, polishing every surface and watering hundreds of plants potted in elaborately crafted urns. It had the same familiar neatness and luxury that Laurel had gotten used to at the Academy.
She and Tamani followed Yasmine to the foot of a wide, grand staircase. The more steps they mounted, the quieter the chamber grew. At first Laurel thought it was a trick of acoustics, but by the time they were halfway up the staircase, the entire room was silent.
Laurel ventured a glance over her shoulder. Tamani was right behind her, but his hands, which had been trembling very slightly before, were now clasped so tightly Laurel imagined he must be hurting himself. Every faerie servant on the floor below them was staring, dusters and watering cans held limply in their unmoving hands. Even the Am fear-faire had stopped at the foot of the stairs, not following when Yasmine began her ascent.
âWeâre going into the upper rooms of the Winter Palace,â Tamani whispered quietly, his voice strained. â No one goes into the upper rooms. Except Winter faeries, I mean.â
Laurel looked up to the top of the stairs. Rather than opening into a wide foyer, as she had expected, they ended in a huge set of double doors, heavily gilded where they showed through a thick hanging of vines. They were the largest doors Laurel had ever seen. They looked too big, too heavy, for Yasmine to move at all.
But the young faerie didnât pause as she reached them. She raised both her hands in front of her, palms out, and made a gentle pushing motion toward the doors without actually touching them. There was visible effort in her movement, as though something in the air was pushing back at her, and gradually, with the rustling of greenery, the doors glided open,
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