Page 22 of Fae Trials

I slowed my breathing, trying to get my pulse under control. Although the wards had accepted me and Gladiolus had taken away the pain, I still wanted back my old life.

Each step closer to the Royal Fae Academy brought me further from Sicily. My chest tightened, and tears filled my eyes. If my sister was here, she would snark about how the faeries lived in such opulence, while we humans survived on United Nations handouts.

“Up you get.” With the strength of a centaur, Gladiolus yanked me up by the arm and plopped me onto the soft, velvet seat. “If you are to study among the fae elite, it’s important to make the right impression.”

I turned my gaze to the older faerie and met his disapproving, mauve eyes. “Won’t I be in remedial classes with all the half-bloods?”

“Half-bloods study and house in a building by the stables, but you will dine with the entire student body.”

I gave him an absent nod. Hopefully, he was telling the truth about us having weekends free, and the wards would let me out to search the Mound’s interior for Sicily.

The horses took another leap through the air and landed in a courtyard lined with iridescent, white stone. It was about the size of Doolish Town square, except where ours was bordered with one-story buildings, the structures around this courtyard stood at least six stories high.

Gladiolus swept his gaze down my uniform, as though checking it for wrinkles. “It’s lunchtime now, and most students will be in the dining hall. Your first task is to identify your mate, who will guide you through the orientation process.”

I bit down on my bottom lip, picturing a room full of spoiled faeries wanting me to apologize for existing. “Can’t I wait for him in the remedial class?”

The carriage door opened, letting in a fragrant mix of honeysuckle, gardenia, and sweet pea scents.

“Whatever for?” Gladiolus stepped out into the courtyard and offered me his hand. “You’ll never meet your mate if you hide in the remedial building. What if he’s a full-blooded faerie?”

I followed him through the courtyard into the academy’s main entrance, which consisted of another stone archway filled with dark wood polished to such a shine, it was nearly indistinguishable from the metal door knocker. As we approached, the metal swirled and morphed into the bust of a female faerie whose earlobes stretched down to her jawline. She stared down at us and blinked.

Gladiolus bowed, and I bobbed into a curtsey, just in case it was required. I’d heard of door guardians, and it wouldn’t surprise me if this was the being responsible for the ward attack.

The door swung open, and I scurried after Gladiolus into an entrance hall consisting of white marble. As soon as it closed again, I turned to the older faerie. “Who was that?”

“Our goddess, Danu. She—”

“Oh,” an arrogant, female voice tinkled with laughter. “Mating call!”

My gaze snapped from Gladiolus, across the vast entrance hall, stood a huge, spiral staircase that split into two branches at the top. Three girls descended in formation. The first to descend was a mahogany-skinned girl with flame-colored hair that curled down her shoulders, next was a pale, willowy girl whose figure reminded me of a sapling. She wore her forest-green hair in a high ponytail.

“Good morning, My Ladies,” said Gladiolus.

I swallowed hard. Would I have to defer to the girls, too? Even though I had wings, I was still considered just a half-blood.

“Who’s this?” asked the third girl, a curvaceous crimson-haired girl with amber eyes.

Gladiolus placed a hand on the small of my back. “Allow me to present Unity Quayle, who has come to join the remedial class.”

The first girl stepped forward, her gaze sweeping down my form. “Whose human bastard are you?”

I wanted to tell her I was a hundred-percent human, thank you very much, but common sense and the fear of the academy’s wards held my tongue. Clenching my teeth, I turned to Gladiolus.

“Her Lord father has decided to allow Unity to make her own way in the world, unencumbered by her past,” said the older faerie.

My gaze darted from the trio’s knowing smirks to the girl descending noisily down the stairs. She held a handkerchief to her nose, but I would recognize that platinum hair anywhere. It belonged to the Duke of Nevermore’s cruel and arrogant daughter, Lady Gala.

If I were a cat, I would dig my claws into the marble and hiss, the hairs on my arched back standing on end. If I had the appearance of a human, I would smooth out my features and grit my teeth. But neither applied here, as my stupid, glowing faerie wings wouldn’t stop fluttering.

“Oh, look,” said Lady Gala, “The halfling is trying to fly.”

My breathing quickened. What if she recognized me from the drake incident and tried to make me grovel again?

“Careful.” The crimson-haired faerie placed an elegant hand on Lady Gala’s arm. “You’re scaring her.”

“How very considerate, Lady Westerling.” Gladiolus gave her an approving smile.