Free Illusions by Aprilynne Pike Page A

few faeries she knew and their eyes widened upon seeing her. But true to their carefully honed discipline, they returned to their projects without comment and left Laurel and Tamani alone.
    As soon as Laurel’s foot touched the bottom step, a tall female faerie scuttled over to them. She was dressed in the unassuming clothes of the Spring staff. “I’m sorry, but it’s far past visiting hours. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
    Laurel looked over in surprise. “I’m Laurel Sewell,” she said.
    â€œI’m afraid I can’t let you go up, Laurelsule,” the faerie said firmly, squishing Laurel’s first and last name together.
    â€œI’m Laurel. Sewell. Apprentice. I’m going up to my room.”
    The faerie’s eyes widened and she immediately bowed at the waist. “My most abject apologies. I’ve never seen you before. I didn’t recognize—”
    â€œPlease,” Laurel said, cutting her off. “It’s fine. We’ll be done soon and then I’ll be gone again.”
    The faerie looked mortified. “I hope I didn’t offend you—there’s no reason you can’t stay!”
    Laurel forced herself to smile warmly at the faerie—surely a new Spring, worried about being demoted from her position. “Oh, no, it wasn’t you at all. I’m needed back at my post.” She hesitated. “Could you . . . could you alert Yeardley that I am here? I need to speak to him.”
    â€œIn your room?” the faerie clarified, eager to please.
    â€œThat would be perfect, thank you.”
    The faerie dropped into a deep curtsy—first to Laurel and then to Tamani—before hurrying off toward the staff quarters.
    Tamani wore a strange expression as Laurel led him upstairs and down the hall. A smile blossomed on her face when she saw the curlicues of her name engraved on her familiar cherry door. She turned the well-oiled doorknob—that neither had nor needed a lock—and entered her room.
    Everything was just as she’d left it, though she knew the staff must come in to dust regularly. Even the hairbrush she’d forgotten was still lying in the middle of her bed. Laurel picked it up with a grin and thought about bringing it back with her, but decided to tuck it away instead. A spare. After all, she’d bought another one when she got home.
    She looked around for Tamani. He was lingering in the doorway.
    â€œWell, come in,” she said. “You should know by now that I don’t bite.”
    He looked up at her then shook his head. “I’ll wait here.”
    â€œNo, you won’t,” Laurel said sternly. “When Yeardley comes I’ll have to close the door so we don’t wake the other students. If you’re not in here you’ll miss the entire conversation.”
    At that Tamani went ahead and entered her room, but he left the door open and stayed within arm’s reach of the door frame. Laurel shook her head ruefully as she walked over and closed the door. She paused, hand on the knob, and looked up at Tamani. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for the way I acted earlier,” she said softly.
    Tamani looked confused. “What do you mean? I told you, I don’t care if Jamison blames me, I—”
    â€œNot that,” Laurel said, looking down at her hands. “Pulling rank at the land. Snapping at you, acting lofty. That’s all it was, an act. None of the other sentries were going to take me seriously if I didn’t act like a pain-in-the-ass Mixer with a superiority complex.” She hesitated. “So I did. But it was all fake. I don’t—I don’t think that way. You know that; I hope you know that. I don’t approve of other fae thinking that way either and—anyway, that’s an argument with no end.” She took a breath. “The point is, I’m sorry. I never meant