“I’m working on it,” Laurel said, sounding forlorn. “I cut off a little piece of my blossom and put it under the globe in some sugar water. When I added the phosphorescent it lasted a couple hours, so I think the globe is working.”

“And that’s what you wanted it to do, right?” Tamani asked. Much of Laurel’s Mixer work confused him, but he loved watching her thrive in her fae role.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how much that helps us. I’ve tried it on my skin and it does react and glow for a while, but it could be different on hair or some drops of sap, or something else entirely. What I need is some kind of sample from Yuki so I can use the same sample from myself and really compare apples to apples.”

“I’ll do my best to get that from her,” Tamani said, trying to think of a way.

“I’ll bet you will,” David said under his breath.

Tamani just glared.

“Guys . . .” Laurel said in a warning tone.

“Sorry,” David muttered.

Laurel looked pointedly at Tamani, but he said nothing. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I also wanted to talk about security,” Tamani said, turning away from Laurel. “I want to keep us all together whenever possible. Trolls have tracked Laurel by scenting her blossom before, and we’ll be out after sundown, so we need to stay alert and stick close. Hopefully it will be a very uneventful evening.”

“Cheers,” Chelsea said, rolling her eyes.

“Good uneventful,” Tamani said, cracking a smile. He was starting to like the human girl. He pulled out his phone, checking the time. “I have to go pick up Yuki in about fifteen minutes.”

“And my mom will be home any time to help me put together some fae-friendly appetizers,” Laurel added.

“Then we’re all ready,” David said, stretching his arm across the back of the couch and settling it around Laurel’s shoulders.

“Do we get to play twenty questions now?” Chelsea asked.

All eyes turned to her.

“Not you,” Chelsea said, then pointed at Tamani. “Him.”

Tamani stared at her for a long, silent moment. “I’m afraid I don’t know that game.”

“Oh, it’s easy,” Chelsea said. “You play it with Laurel all the time, but she never asks you fun questions. Although she did tell me about a bunch of Shakespearean plays being faerie legends. I’ve been waiting for ages to ask you the really good stuff!”

“Um, okay,” Tamani said, not sure what Chelsea considered “good stuff.”

“So is it only Shakespeare, or are there more stories that exist in both cultures?”

“Oh!” Tamani said with a laugh. He sank into an armchair close to Chelsea. “There are lots. In Avalon, we love stories. The Summer fae dedicate their lives to telling stories, through dance or music or painting. But humans are endlessly inventive, always coming up with new ways to make the story interesting by telling it wrong. Nonetheless, a lot of your stories have faerie roots.”

Chelsea was undeterred. “Cinderella.”

“No,” said Tamani. “I mean, faeries don’t even wear shoes most of the time. And finding someone based solely on shoe size? That doesn’t make sense for humans or faeries.”

“What about the faerie godmother?” Chelsea asked.

“Unnecessary. We can make pumpkins grow that big without magic. And even a Winter faerie couldn’t turn a mouse into a horse.”

“Beauty and the Beast.”

“Story of a faerie who fell in love with a troll. Scares the wits out of most seedlings. The troll never turns out to be a handsome prince, though.”

“Rapunzel.”

“Growth tonic gone terribly wrong.”

Chelsea squealed. “Thumbelina.”

“That’s just basic anatomy misinterpreted. We are born from flowers, but we’re never that small. Mischievous Sparklers were known to have encouraged tiny-faerie misconceptions, though.”

“Tell me one that would surprise me.”

Tamani thought for a moment. “Do you know The Pied Piper of Hameln?”

Chelsea looked blank for a minute. “You mean Hamelin?”

“That sounds right. That one’s not a story, it’s true,” Tamani said, very seriously. “And it has scarcely been distorted at all. The Piper was a very powerful Spring faerie. Most of us can only Entice one or two animals at a time, but the Piper could Entice a whole city. He was eventually executed for that stunt.”

“What did he do with the children?” Chelsea asked.

“It’s kind of a long story. Ultimately, though, he marched them off a cliff. Killed them all.”

Chelsea and Laurel were both silent, staring at Tamani in horror.

“Perhaps not our happiest story,” Tamani said awkwardly.

“What about the Camelot legends?” Chelsea said, recovering first. Her eyes twinkled in a way that told Tamani this was really what she’d wanted to ask all along.

“What about them?”

“Laurel told me the parts that you told her, and that King Arthur was real and everything. But what about the rest? Lancelot? Guinevere? The Round Table?”

Tamani hesitated—he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell this story, especially not with David around. But it would look even stranger not to tell it now that Chelsea had him on a roll. “Laurel told you about the Unseelie, right?”