“If I were a gryphon, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Well, whose fault is that, you cheapskate?”
He grumbles and then directs me past the main building, toward another that stands behind it. There are several buildings on the college grounds, each housing different departments.
“Now what were you saying about it being weird that everyone here is a mage?” he asks, relaxing when no one else approaches us.
“Oh, right. It’s just that you’re the first mage I’ve ever met, and now I’m surrounded by them.”
“You lived a rather isolated life.”
“That’s not unusual for pixies,” I point out. “And it was necessary for a while.”
He doesn’t answer that, even though he has an opinion on everything. Which means he might feel bad, and that’s not the mood I’d like for our outing.
And that makesmefeel bad for bringing it up, even if it is true. It’s harder to hunt pixies when they’re spread out across the world.
But that sort of thing hasn’t happened in several centuries, not since fae royalty emerged from their glistening towers, and the depraved group of mages was brought to justice.
Oh, sure, there are a few isolated events here and there. But for the most part, we’re as safe as any other fae race. If we weren’t, places like Moss Hollow could never exist.
“I’m sorry,” Rowan finally says.
“It’s all right. That was ages ago, and you weren’t involved. But it’s true that wedotend to live our lives amongst humans these days.”
I watch a groundskeeper watering the planters that line the walkway. He’s using a watering can, which looks terribly inconvenient. But as soon as it's empty, he points his wand at it, draws a glowing symbol, and it’s full again.
Realizing I’m staring, I pull my eyes from the man and ask Rowan, “Why are there no high fae here?”
“They have their own colleges.”
“I know that, but why?”
“Originally, I imagine they didn’t want us half breeds in their high and mighty learning institutions. Now it’s just easier. Though our magic comes from them, the human in us causes it to react differently. They have to learn to manipulate their unique magic, and we have to learn ours.”
“What about elves? Their magic is different, yet they study with the high fae.”
He shrugs his owl shoulders. “It’s just the way it is, Kit.”
“I suppose.”
“It’s that building up there,” he says, “with the trees blooming outside the doors.”
I follow Rowan’s instructions, and we end up in an entry that looks very much like a historic English estate on the inside. The floors are marble, but they’re covered with tasteful carpet runners to subdue the echo.
“So fancy,” I say. “Exactly how much is the tuition here?”
“Too much, probably. But it’s a good school, and my uncle was all about prestige.”
“Your uncle sent you here?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you close to him?”
“He and my aunt raised me.”
I want to ask him what happened to his parents, but I have a feeling that wouldn’t improve his mood.
