Illusions by Aprilynne Pike Page A

nothing.
    Laurel stood silently for a few seconds, staring at the two fae in disbelief. Despite her assurances to Tamani that she wanted Shar to be safe, she came to see Jamison.
    And she wasn’t leaving until she had.
    Lifting her chin defiantly, Laurel turned and headed into the forest as fast as she could without breaking into a run.
    â€œLaurel!” Tamani called immediately after her. “Where are you going?”
    â€œI’m going to Avalon,” she said, holding her voice as steady as she could manage.
    â€œLaurel, stop!” Tamani said, wrapping one hand around her upper arm.
    Laurel pulled her arm from his grasp, the strength of his fingers stinging against her skin. “Don’t try and stop me!” she said loudly. “You have no right!” Without pausing to look at his face, she pivoted and continued the way she had been heading. As she walked, several faeries approached the path, spears raised, but as soon as they recognized her, they backed off.
    When she reached the tree that disguised the gate it was guarded by five fully armed sentries. Taking a deep breath and reminding herself that, whatever else they might do, these warriors would never actually harm her, Laurel marched up to the closest one. “I am Laurel Sewell, Apprentice Fall, scion in the human world. I have business with Jamison, the Winter faerie, advisor to Queen Marion, and I demand entrance to Avalon.”
    The guards, clearly thrown by this display, bowed respectfully at the waist and turned questioning eyes to Shar, who stepped forward and also bowed. Guilt welled up in Laurel’s chest, but she forced it down.
    â€œOf course,” Shar said softly. “I will send your request immediately. It is, however, up to the Winter faeries to decide whether they will open the gate.”
    â€œI’m quite aware,” Laurel said, proud that her voice didn’t quaver.
    Shar bowed again, not meeting her eyes. He circled to the far side of the tree and Laurel wished she could go and see what he did—how he communicated with Avalon. But following him might destroy the illusion of power that, she had to admit, she was doing an excellent job of maintaining. So she averted her eyes and tried to look bored as silent minutes ticked by.
    Finally, after what seemed like ages, Shar emerged from behind the tree. “They are sending someone,” he said, his voice just a touch raspy. Laurel tried to catch his eye, but though his chin was raised as high and proud as hers, he would not meet her gaze.
    â€œGood,” she said, as though she were not the least bit surprised. “I will need to be accompanied by my, um, guardian.” She indicated Tamani with a flick of her head. She almost tried the Gaelic word that Tamani used to refer to himself, but didn’t trust herself to say it right.
    â€œOf course,” Shar said, eyes still glued to the ground. “Your safety is of highest priority to us. Sentries, my first twelve to the front,” he ordered.
    Laurel felt rather than saw Tamani start forward, but with a quick intake of breath he planted both feet again.
    Twelve sentries filed past a large knot on the tree, each placing a hand on it. Laurel remembered with a twinge of sorrow the way Shar had lifted Tamani’s nearly lifeless hand to the same knot when she’d brought him back—almost dead—after being shot by Barnes.
    She tried to look unimpressed as the tree changed before her, transforming with a brilliant flash of light into the golden-barred gate that protected the faerie realm of Avalon. Beyond the gate, Laurel saw only blackness. Jamison had not yet arrived. Then, slowly, like the sun filtering out from behind a cloud, small fingers appeared and encircled the bars. A moment later the gate swung open, light flowing in to fill the space where there had been only darkness a moment before.
    A girl who looked about twelve years old— if she were human , Laurel