Spells Read Free

always believed that destruction was his fault, that he could have prevented it.”
    “Could he have?” Laurel asked.
    Jamison nodded to two sentries, who stood at either side of an enormous set of wooden doors that led through the walls. “Probably not,” he said to Laurel. “But it is a good reminder nonetheless.”
    The doors swung open soundlessly, and all thoughts were chased from Laurel’s head as she and Jamison walked out of the enclosure and onto a hillside.
    Verdant beauty flowed down the hill and as far as she could see in every direction. Black paths wound through masses of trees, interspersed with long, flower-speckled meadows and rainbow clusters of something Laurel couldn’t identify—they looked like gigantic balloons of every imaginable color, sitting on the ground and sparkling like soap bubbles. Farther down, in a ring that appeared to spread all the way around the base of the hill, were the roofs of small houses, and Laurel could make out brightly colored dots moving about that must be other faeries.
    “There are… thousands of them,” Laurel said, not quite realizing she had spoken aloud.
    “Of course,” Jamison said, mirth coloring his voice. “Almost the entire species lives here. We number more than eighty thousand now.” He paused. “That probably sounds small to you.”
    “No,” Laurel said quickly. “I mean, I know there are more humans than that, but…I never imagined so many faeries all in one place.” It was strange; it made her feel both normal and very insignificant. She’d met other faeries, of course—Jamison, Tamani, Shar, the sentries she glimpsed from time to time—but the thought of thousands upon thousands of faeries was almost overwhelming.
    Jamison’s hand touched the small of her back. “There will be time for sightseeing another day,” he said softly. “We must take you to the Academy.”
    Laurel followed Jamison down the perimeter of the stone wall. When they rounded the side of the enclosure, Laurel looked uphill and her breath caught in her throat again. About a quarter mile up the gentle slope an enormous tower rose against the skyline, jutting from the center of a sprawling building straight out of Jane Eyre . It didn’t look like a castle so much as a grand library, all square, gray stones and steeply pitched roofs. Massive windows dotted every wall, and skylights glittered among slate shingles like caches of faceted prisms. Every surface was veined with creepers, framed by flowers, glimpsed through foliage, or otherwise host to plants of innumerable variety.
    Jamison’s words answered the question Laurel was too amazed to ask. He gestured toward the structure with one arm as he spoke. “The Academy of Avalon.”

TWO
    AS THEY WALKED TOWARD THE ACADEMY, LAUREL glimpsed another building through breaks in the forest. At the very top of the tall hill, just a bit higher than the towering Academy, sat the crumbling ruins of a castle. Laurel blinked and squinted; perhaps crumbling was not the right word. It was definitely falling to pieces, but ropes of green snaked through the white marble as if sewing the walls together, and the canopy of an enormous tree spread out above it, shading half the structure beneath its leaves. “What’s that building?” Laurel asked the next time it came into view.
    “That is the Winter Palace,” Jamison said. “I live there.”
    “Is it safe?” Laurel asked dubiously.
    “Of course not,” Jamison replied. “It is one of the most dangerous places in all of Avalon. But I am safe there, as are its other occupants.”
    “Is it going to fall down?” Laurel asked, eyeing one corner that was done up like a corset with viridian laces.
    “No, indeed,” Jamison replied. “We Winter faeries have been caring for this palace for more than three thousand years. The roots of that redwood grow with the castle now, as much a part of the structure as the original marble. She would never let it fall.”
    “Why don’t you