Reluctantly, Tamani glanced at her again. He was surprised to see that she wasn’t looking at him as she spoke — she was staring past him, out the window, as if at some bright future she still imagined possible. Tamani knew better.

“There isn’t a door in this world that can be closed to us, Tam. If you vouched for me, we could even go peacefully to Avalon. We could stay there together and live in the palace.”

“How do you know about the palace?” Tamani asked reflexively, knowing even as he did that he was snapping at her bait. A barely audible sigh came from Shar, and Tamani wondered if it was directed at Yuki’s stupidity or his own.

“Or we could stay here,” she continued calmly, as though Tamani hadn’t said anything. “Anywhere we wanted to go, anything we wanted to do, we could. Between your power over animals and mine over plants, the world would be ours. You know, the pairing of a Spring and Winter would work really well. Our talents complement each other perfectly.”

Tamani wondered if she understood just how right she was — or how little it tempted him.

“I would have loved you forever,” she whispered, bowing her head. Her dark, lustrous hair fell forwards, veiling her face, and she sniffled quietly. Was she crying, or stifling a laugh?

Tamani started when a knock sounded at the door. Before he could take a step, Shar moved silently to the peephole.

Knife in his fist, Tamani tensed — ready. Was it Klea? That’s what everything was for — the circle, Yuki in cuffs — an elaborate trap to snare the scheming Autumn faerie who might be trying to kill them.

And might not.

If only they could know for sure.

Until they did, Tamani had to assume they were a threat — a lethal one.

But with a shimmer of a grimace, Shar pulled the door open and Laurel entered the room, Chelsea close behind.