“I have missed you so much,” Tamani said, the grin she loved restored to his face.

Laurel wrapped her arms around him and held on for a long time. He was a reminder of her life outside the Academy, an anchor to her own world. The place she still called home. It was strange to realize that, over the course of a few short days, her most direct link to Avalon had now become her strongest tie to human life.

And, of course, he was himself. There was plenty to be said for that, too.

“Sorry about all that,” he said. “The Academy is very particular about protocol between Spring and Fall faeries and I would hate for you to get in trouble. Well, I guess it’s more likely I’d get in trouble, but regardless…let’s avoid trouble.”

“If we have to.” Laurel grinned and reached both hands up into his hair, mussing it until it fell into its usually chunky strands. She grabbed his hands, exhilarated to be in friendly, familiar company again. “I’m so glad you came. I thought I’d go crazy if I had to spend another night studying.”

Tamani sobered. “It’s hard work, I’m sure, but it’s important.”

She looked down at her bare feet, speckled with dark soil. “It’s not that important.”

“It is. You have no idea how much we use all the things the Fall faeries make.”

“But I can’t really do anything at all! I haven’t even started classroom work yet.” She sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t know how much I can learn in less than two months.”

“Couldn’t you come back…from time to time?”

“I guess so.” Laurel looked up again. “If I’m invited.”

“Oh, you’ll be…invited.” Tamani grinned as he said it, as though he found the word inherently amusing. “Trust me.”

His eyes met hers, and Laurel felt hypnotized. After a nervous moment she turned away and started walking. “So where are we going?” she asked, trying to cover her awkwardness.

“Going?”

“Jamison said you would take me sightseeing. I only get a few hours.”

Tamani seemed completely unprepared for this conversation. “I’m not sure he meant—”

“I have been doing nothing but memorizing plants for,” Laurel paused, “Six. Straight. Days. I want to see Avalon!”

A mischievous grin lit Tamani’s face and he nodded. “Very well, then. Where would you like to go?”

“I—I wouldn’t have any idea.” Laurel turned to him. “What’s the best place in Avalon?”

He took a breath, then hesitated. After another moment he said, “Do you want to do something with other fae or just the two of us?”

Laurel gazed down the hill. Part of her just wanted to be with Tamani, but she scarcely trusted herself to spend that long alone with him. “Can’t we do some of both?”

Tamani grinned. “Sure. Why don’t we—”

She placed one index finger against his lips. “No, don’t tell me, let’s just go.”

In response, Tamani pointed down the hill and said, “Lead on.”

A little shiver of excitement passed through her as the Academy grew smaller and smaller behind them. They passed the high stone walls that enclosed the gate and soon their path diverged into roads that wound through an occasional building—but these roads weren’t paved. Instead, they were made of the same soft, black, nutrient-rich soil that covered the path from the gateway to the Academy. The soil cooled Laurel’s bare feet and energized her steps. It was ten times better than any other walk she’d ever taken.

The farther they got from the Academy, the more crowded the streets became. They entered some kind of open-air fair with hundreds of faeries congregating in doorways, browsing in facade-fronted shops and milling about kiosks hung with sparkling wares. Everything was rainbow-hued and vivid and it took Laurel a few seconds to realize that the bright, multicolored flashes she saw weaving through the crowds were the blossoms of the Summer faeries. One faerie passed close in front of her, carrying some kind of stringed instrument and sporting a stunning blossom that resembled a tropical flower. It was bright red streaked with a sunshiny yellow and had about ten broad petals that ended in sharp angles like the purpurea Laurel had studied only yesterday. But it was enormous! The lower petals floated just inches above the ground while the top petals arched over her head like an enormous crown.

Good thing I’m not a Summer faerie, Laurel thought, recalling the work she had put into concealing her own seasonal blossom less than a year ago. That thing would never have fit under a shirt.

Everywhere she looked she saw more of the vibrant, tropical-looking blossoms, in seemingly infinite variety. The Summer faeries were dressed differently too. They wore clothes of the same light, shimmery fabric that Laurel and all her classmates wore, only cut longer and more loosely, with ruffles and tassels and other adornments that fluttered in the air or trains that swept the ground behind them. Showy, Laurel decided. Like their blossoms.

She looked back to make sure she hadn’t lost Tamani, but he was still there, two steps behind her left shoulder. “I wish you’d just lead the way,” Laurel said, tired of craning her neck to see him.

“It’s not my place.”

Laurel stopped. “Your place?”

“Please don’t make a scene,” Tamani said softly, prodding her forward again with his fingertips. “It’s just the way it is.”