Destined. Aprilynne Pike

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      Tamani had the grace to shake his head silently.

      “I have a secret now. I tell them everything. Everything. It hasn’t been easy, but being open and honest has been the most wonderful part of my life the past year or so. Now, I have this – this thing that I can’t tell them ever, because they would never look at me or faeries the same way.” Her anger flared, white hot. “And I hate him for that,” she whispered.

      “I’m sorry,” Tamani said. “I know how much they mean to you and . . . and I’m sorry they got hurt.”

      “Thank you,” Laurel said.

      Tamani looked down at his hands, an emotion sketched across his face that Laurel couldn’t quite decipher. “I resent that I didn’t know,” he finally said. “There’s so much I don’t know. And I don’t think Yuki is going to tell us anything. Half of what she says contradicts the other half. I thought maybe, once we had her trapped, we’d finally get the answers we’ve been looking for, but . . . if something doesn’t happen soon . . . I’m not sure what Shar will do.”

      “Shar . . .” What was it he’d told her? I will do whatever it takes to keep Avalon safe. ’He won’t hurt her, will he? To get more information?”

      “He can’t. Even if he were so inclined, he can’t enter the circle.”

      “There are things he could do without entering the circle,” Laurel said. “He could—”

      “I won’t let him,” Tamani countered firmly. “I promise. I’ll watch out for her. Lies or not, she was my friend. Maybe she still is, I don’t know. Besides, even Shar wouldn’t risk the penalties he would face for . . . for torturing a Winter faerie.”

      Laurel wasn’t sure she believed that.

      “He’s not a monster,” Tamani continued. “He does what has to be done, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. I understand you can’t trust him right now, but please try to trust me.”

      Laurel nodded glumly. Like she had a choice?

      “Thank you,” he said.

      “Can it really hold her, Tam? The circle?”

      He was silent for a moment. “I think so.”

      “It’s just salt,” Laurel said quietly. “You were with me in the Winter Palace; you felt the power in those upper rooms. Containing that kind of magic with something that’s currently sitting on my dining-room table doesn’t seem possible.”

      “She walked into it of her own accord. Shar says that’s where the power comes from.” His eyelashes rose and his pale green eyes met hers. “Never underestimate the power of a situation you put yourself into.”

      She knew he was talking about more than just the salt circle.

      After a moment of hesitation Tamani joined her on the ground, settling a comforting arm over her shoulders.

      “I’m sorry for everything,” he whispered, words weighted with regret. She turned her face and leaned in, wanting to lose herself in him, to forget everything else, just for a moment. Tamani exhaled shakily and brought his face close to hers. Laurel lifted her hand to his cheek and drew him forward the rest of the way. Their lips had scarcely touched when the door opened and Chelsea stormed out, keys jangling in her hand.

      “Shar had them the whole time,” she complained loudly. “He stood there and watched me look all over for them and then—” Her eyes zeroed in on Tamani’s arm around Laurel’s shoulders. “Oh, duh,” Chelsea said, clearly realising Shar’s intent now. Then, softly, she added, “Sorry.”

      Laurel rolled down her window, letting the wind caress her face as Chelsea drove through the empty, darkened streets. For nearly half an hour Chelsea said nothing further about their short bout in the apartment or her ill-timed appearance, and Laurel appreciated the effort her friend must have put into keeping quiet. Silence certainly did not come naturally to Chelsea. She was probably dying to rehash their visit with Yuki, but all Laurel wanted to do was force it to the back of her mind and pretend it had never happened.

      “Hey, is that . . .”

      Chelsea was already pulling over when Laurel realised that the tall guy walking down the side of the road, silhouetted by the streetlight, was David. His eyes were wary as the headlights flashed across them, but recognition – and relief – dawned as Chelsea pulled her mother’s car alongside him.

      “Where were you?” Chelsea demanded when David crouched to peer through the passenger window. “I drove all over the place.”

      David studied the ground. “I stayed out of sight,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be found.”

      Chelsea glanced over her shoulder in the direction he had been walking. Towards the apartment. “Where are you going?”

      “Back,” David growled. “To make things right.”

      “She’s doing OK,” Chelsea said, her eyes serious.

      “But I put her in there.”

      “She’s figured the circle out,” Chelsea insisted. “It’s not like it was. She’s not hurting herself anymore. She just sits there. Well, sits and talks,” she added.

      But David was shaking his head. “I’ve been running away from my part in this and I’m done. I’m going back to make sure everything stays humane. Or, you know, whatever the plant equivalent is.”

      “Tamani said he would make sure she was safe,” Laurel said.

      “But his – and Shar’s – definition of safe may not quite match up with mine. Ours.” He looked between them. “We put her there. All of us. And I still think it was the right decision, but if it wasn’t . . . I don’t want to stand by and let it get worse.”

      “What are we supposed to do?” Laurel asked, not willing to admit that she didn’t want to go back either.

      “Maybe we can take shifts. One of us, one of them,” David said.

      Chelsea rolled her eyes.

      “Someone would have to stay all night,” Laurel said. “Which my parents would probably let me do, but—”

      “Staying up all night isn’t really your thing,” David said, voicing Laurel’s concern.

      “I can text my mom,” Chelsea offered. “I told her I’d probably spend the night at your house anyway – makes total sense after a big dance. And she never checks up on me.”

      Laurel and Chelsea both turned to look at David. “I’ll think of something,” he mumbled. “What about Ryan?”

      “What about him?” Chelsea asked, finding something interesting to examine on the steering wheel.

      “He’s going to wonder why you keep running off at strange hours. You can’t always use Laurel as an excuse.”

      “I don’t think he’ll notice,” Chelsea said.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ