Laurel’s eyes swung over to the stack of books. “All of those?” she asked.

“No. This is only the first half. I have one more batch when you have finished. Trust me,” the faerie said, “these were as few as I could possibly justify.” He looked down at a piece of paper he had pulled from a shoulder bag. “One of our acolytes”—he looked up at her—“that’s the level you would be at, by the way, under more favorable circumstances — has agreed to be your tutor. She will be available to you during all daylight hours, and explaining such basic concepts to you will hardly be a strain, so feel free to use her. We hope you spend no more than two weeks relearning the things you have forgotten since you left us.”

Wishing she could disappear through the floor, Laurel stood with her fists clenched.

“Her name is Katya,” Yeardley continued, paying no attention to Laurel’s reaction. “I suspect she will come introduce herself soon. Don’t let her social nature distract you from your studies.”

Laurel nodded stiffly, her eyes fixed firmly on the stack of books.

“I will leave you to your reading then,” he said, turning on his bare heel. “When all the books are read, we can begin regular classes.” He paused in the doorway. “Your staff can summon me when you are finished, but don’t bother until you have read each book completely. There simply isn’t any point.” Without a good-bye he strode through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind him, a loud click filling the deep silence of Laurel’s room.

Taking a long breath, Laurel walked over to the desk and looked at the spines of some of the ancient-looking books: Fundamental Herbology, Origins of Elixirs, The Complete Encyclopedia of Defensive Herbs, and Troll Anatomy. Laurel grimaced at the last one.

She had always enjoyed reading, but these books weren’t exactly light fiction. She looked from the tall stack of books to the picture window across the room and noted that the sun had already begun its descent into the western sky.