Page 12 of Crashing Tides

“They’re fine,” I explain. “It’s just that I don’t sleep well in new places.”

He shakes his head. “Well, I can see we’ve some skill in telepathy, although of course that could’ve been a lucky guess.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Although it’s rare for anyone to guess gray.”

Clever. Even I could admit it.

He makes me guess a bunch of things. Shapes, animals, colors. I’m mostly right, but he seems far from impressed.

We move on to basic magic. “You’re going to conjure a flame,” he tells me. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

I shake my head, cheeks burning, but Elarion is quick to reassure me. “That’s very normal. I’d be surprised if you had. I want you to place your hands on the table. Now cup them together, like you’re going to drink from a stream.”

My palms are sweaty.

“Close your eyes. Take a moment to clear your mind.”

My mind is a jumble of colors and sounds, still searching for those yellow eyes. A part of me is in a panic that they’re lost, that I can’t find them again.

But that’s not logical, I remind myself. They aren’t real. I don’t need to be worried, because they don’t actually mean anything.

I drip sweat as I follow Elarion’s instructions. I imagine a flame, try to feel the heat licking my palms, climbing my fingers, crawling down my wrists…

There’s a shout, then cold water splashes over my hands, across the table, and into my lap. Elarion stands holding a pitcher, his brows drawn together in something like astonishment.

“You were supposed to conjure a little flame,” he admonishes me. “Not a bonfire.”

There are scorch marks on the table. The room reeks of smoke. My hands are somehow sweatier than they were before, but not blistered or singed. “I barely felt that.”

“Conjured flame generally doesn’t hurt conjurer,” says Elarion with a glower. “But it has the power to destroy. Remember that.”

It hasn’t occurred to me that I might be powerful enough to burn down a building, let alone hold a tiny flame in my hand. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

He sighs. “Well, now that we know you’ve certain affinities, we’ll be a bit more careful. The table needed to be replaced anyway.”

I doubt that, but I don’t say anything, too stunned to protest.

The rest of the day passes quickly. I’m terrible at manipulating matter, but I can conjure a flame, lift a piece of chalk without touching it, and turn the lights on and off. Seven hours later, I’m exhausted, but Elarion seems pleased.

“Good news. Your heritage hasn’t let you down.” He vanishes into a supply closet in the corner of the room and reappears with a stack of books. “Your schedule will be adjusted accordingly. In the meantime, I suggest you begin reading.” He glares at me, and any pride I feel diminishes. “Do not, and I mean this wholeheartedly, do not attempt to replicate anything we’ve done today. This was a controlled exam under controlled circumstances. If you try to do these things unsupervised, they will backfire, and you will face serious consequences.” He wipes his brow with the back of his hand, sighs. “Do not do it.”

I nod, looking anywhere but the scorched table.

“We’ll put you in introductory classes with others who weren’t raised among the fae,” he says, not unkindly, but with a note of pity that has me squirming in discomfort. “You’ll learn quickly enough.”

I leave with a stack of books. In the hall, I pass Orea, who lets out an excited squeal when she sees me. “See? I told you everything would be fine!”

“He destroyed a table,” says Elarion, who has appeared behind me like some kind of tall, well-dressed ghost. “It was not fine.”

“It was mostly fine,” I insist, but he raises a critical brow and disappears around the corner.

I try not to let Elarion’s disapproval stop me from celebrating. I hit the gym, then the mostly empty dining hall. I’m just about to go back to my dorm when a woman approaches.

Her ears are rounded and her features are almost certainly human, but her eyes are a striking green. She’s wearing a red tank top and tight jeans that emphasize her muscular thighs, and before I know it, she’s sitting down across from me, smiling a polite, reserved smile.

“So,” she says, nodding at me like we share some kind of secret. “You’re like me. Putting the half in half-fae university.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but now I’m really worried that it’s bad I’m only a quarter fae. “Um, I guess?”

She laughs, a little restrained. She’s nervous, too. “You’ve never heard it called that before?”