Destined. Aprilynne Pike

       Dedication

      To Neil Gleichman, who taught me the importance of finishing strong.

      I hope I have.

      Thanks, Coach.

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-one

       Chapter Twenty-two

       Chapter Twenty-three

       Chapter Twenty-four

       Chapter Twenty-five

       Chapter Twenty-six

       Chapter Twenty-seven

       Chapter Twenty-eight

       Author’s Note

       The Last Word

       Acknowledgments

       Also by Aprilynne Pike

      Copyright

       About the Publisher

      Tamani pressed his forehead against the chilly windowpane, fighting back a wave of exhaustion. Sleep wasn’t an option, not while the only thing between him and an angry Winter faerie was a thin line of table salt.

      Tonight, he was Fear-gleidhidh twice over.

      The old word was one he normally wore with pride. It marked him as Laurel’s guardian, her protector. But it had a richer meaning, one that went beyond the more traditional Am Fear-faire. Fear-gleidhidh meant “warden,” and Tamani was charged with not only keeping Laurel safe but making certain she accomplished the mission Avalon had given her as a child.

      Now he played prison warden too.

      He looked over at his captive. Yuki’s chair sat on the scuffed linoleum in the middle of a circle of white, granular salt. She slept, her cheek resting on her knees, hands cuffed loosely behind her. She looked uncomfortable. Beaten.

      Harmless.

      “I would have given up everything for you.” Her words were hushed but clear.

      Tamani felt Shar stiffen at the sound of her voice, breaking the thick silence.

      Not sleeping after all. And she could never be harmless, he reminded himself. The small white flower blooming from the middle of her back, marking her a Winter faerie, was proof enough of that. It had been more than an hour since David cuffed her to the chair – an hour since Chelsea had exposed the irrefutable proof that she was, in fact, a Winter faerie – and Tamani still hadn’t gotten used to the sight. It filled him with an icy fear he had rarely felt before.

      “I was ready. That’s why I stopped you before you brought me inside.” Yuki looked up and unfolded her legs, stretching as best she could under the circumstances. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

      Tamani held his tongue. He had known. And for a moment he’d been tempted to let her make her confession. But it wouldn’t have ended well. Yuki would eventually have discovered that his affections were a sham, and then he would be at the mercy of a Winter faerie scorned. Better to cut the charade short.

      He hoped he wasn’t deceiving himself about that. She posed a threat; he shouldn’t have felt any guilt about lying to her in the first place, much less now that he knew she’d been lying too. The power Winter faeries had over plants also made it possible for them to sense plant life at a distance, so from the instant Yuki had met Tamani, she had known him for a faerie. Known Laurel, too. The Winter had played them all.

      So why did he still wonder whether he’d done the right thing?

      “We could have been so good together, Tam,” Yuki continued, her voice as silky as her rumpled silver dress, but with a malicious edge that made Tamani shiver. “Laurel’s not going to leave him for you. She may be a faerie on the outside, but inside she’s all human. David or no David, she belongs here, and you know it.”

      Avoiding his captain’s eyes, Tamani turned back to the window and peered out into the darkness, pretending