Destined

Then the phone buzzed again – a picture this time. He’d been expecting to hear from Shar – perhaps hoping was a better word – but even though he’d been clinging to his phone since they’d arrived at Laurel’s house, the person he’d assumed would call was Aaron. Maybe Silve. Shar had never managed to use the phone before; generally he refused to even try. Tamani slid a finger across the screen once, twice, three times before it recognised his touch and unlocked. He squinted at the minuscule picture for a second before tapping it to make it bigger.

Not that it helped.

He was looking at a log cabin with a white, tentlike structure sprawling out the back. There were two slightly grainy figures near the front door.

“What is it?” Laurel asked.

He beckoned her forwards. “It’s from Shar.”

“Shar?” The disbelief in Laurel’s voice was as heavy as it was in Tamani’s mind. “He texted you?”

Tamani nodded, studying the picture. “He said Klea got away with Yuki. He followed them here.” He slid his fingers over the screen, zooming in on the two figures, wanting to be sure before voicing his suspicions. “Those two guards,” he said slowly, “I don’t think they’re human.”

“Trolls?” David asked, still sitting on the couch.

“Fae,” Tamani said, not looking up from the screen. “They don’t seem to be trying to hide it either. This must be . . . I don’t know. Klea’s headquarters?”

“Should you call him?” Laurel suggested, but Tamani was already shaking his head.

“No way. If that’s where he is, I can’t risk giving him away.”

“Can’t your phone, like, find his with GPS or something?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know that it matters. There’s no text with this picture and for now I have to assume that means I should do nothing.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets – one still clenched around his phone – and began pacing again.

The phone buzzed almost immediately. Another picture.

“What are they?” Laurel asked, squeezing in beside him to squint at the tall, green stalks.

Tamani’s stomach twisted with a sick churning. It had taken the Gardener’s son in him less than a second to recognise the distinct plant specimen. “They’re sprouts,” he said hoarsely.

“Sprou – Oh!” Laurel said, sucking in a breath.

“The plants faeries are born out of?” David asked, rising from the couch to look over Tamani’s shoulder.

Tamani nodded numbly.

“But there are dozens of them!” Laurel said. Then, after a pause, “Why are so many of them chopped down?”

But Tamani could only shake his head as he glared at the picture, trying to understand Shar’s message. Everything about this was wrong. He was no Gardener, but the condition of the growing sprouts was appalling even to the untrained eye. The plants were too close together, and most of the stalks were too short in comparison to the size of the bulb. They were malnourished at best and probably permanently damaged.

But it was the cut-off stalks that bothered him the most. The only reason to cut a stalk was to harvest it early. Tamani’s mom had done so once in her career, to save a dying baby fae, but Tamani couldn’t imagine Klea’s motives were so maternal. And he had no idea why she would do it to so many. She had to be using them. And not for companionship.

His gruesome speculation was cut off by another picture, this one of a metal rack filled with green vials. There was no spark of recognition this time and Tamani tilted the screen toward Laurel. “Do you recognise this serum?”

Laurel shook her head. “About half of all serums are green. It could be anything.”

“Maybe it—” His question was cut off by the phone buzzing again. Not a text this time; a call. Tamani sucked in a breath and held the phone up to his ear. “Shar?” he said, wondering if he sounded as desperate as he felt.

Laurel looked up at him, worry, concern, and hope twining together in her gaze.

“Shar?” he said, more quietly now.

“Tam, I need your help,” Shar whispered. “I need you to . . .” His voice trailed off, and shuffling noises were loud against Tamani’s ear as it sounded like Shar set the phone down.

“Don’t move, or this whole shelf goes over.” Shar’s voice came through clearly, but with a slight echo. Speakerphone, Tamani realised. He felt a laugh bubble up in his throat and had to bite his lip firmly to tamp it down. Shar had figured out his phone enough to use it when it counted.

Klea’s voice – more hollow, but crisp enough to understand – came through next. “Honestly, Captain, is this really necessary? You’ve already blown my schedule all to hell by knocking out poor Yuki.”

Knocked out a Winter? Tamani thought, both proud and incredulous. Wonder how he pulled that off.

“I saw you burn,” Shar said, his voice simmering. “The blaze was so hot, no one could get near it for three days.”

“Who doesn’t love a good fire?” she said, her tone mocking.

“I made them test the ashes. Academy confirmed an Autumn faerie died in that fire.”

“How diligent of you! But that’s why I left my blossom behind. I don’t think it would have fooled them if it hadn’t been fresh.”

Laurel laid a hand on Tamani’s arm. “Is it—”

Tamani shushed her gently and pulled the phone away from his face, hitting his own speakerphone button, then muting the microphone just in case.

“Where did you find Yuki?” Shar’s voice said clearly.

“Find? Oh, Captain, all it takes is a single seed, if you know what you’re doing. Work was slow when I had to rely on cuttings, but in the past few decades humans have made remarkable strides in cloning. I quickly discovered that every sprout has its own destiny, no matter its lineage. So it was only a matter of time before I got a Winter.”

“Where did you get the seed, then?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you,” Klea said, “but it’s just too good to keep to myself. I stole it from the Unseelie.”

“You’re Unseelie, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Don’t lump me in with those wild-eyed zealots,” she snapped. “I never did find out where the Unseelie got the seed, not that it matters. One of them even saw me take it as I made my escape. Oh, she was so angry,” Klea said in a low whisper. “But then, I think you’re familiar with her, Shar de Misha.”

Tamani closed his eyes, knowing how his friend must be feeling to discover the secret his mother had kept from him – the secret that might have saved so many lives. There was a long pause before Shar responded. “You have a pretty big stack of these vials here. The least you can do is tell me what I’m about to die for. You owe me that.”

“The only thing you’re owed is a bullet in the head.”

“So I should dump these, then,” Shar said. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”

As Shar baited Klea, his voice seemed to blare, filling the room with his careful prompts. Tamani could feel Laurel trying to catch his eye but now was not the time for one of their silent conversations. He forced himself to focus on the phone resting on the palm of his hand and did his best to breathe evenly.

Klea hesitated. “Fine. Don’t think it will spare you. They took me a long time to make and I’d prefer not to waste them, but this is only the final batch. Most of it has already been used.”

“Is this how you make the trolls immune to our poisons?”

“In Avalon, you treat the ill. Here, humans have learned to prevent illnesses before they happen. This is basically the same thing. An inoculation of sorts. So yes, it makes them immune.”