Page 44 of Fae Trials

“Good point,” said Flora with a yawn.

“We’ll wake up early and gather some salt.” Helen returned with a cloth and took the mugs. “That will protect you from glamours.”

With a grateful smile, I picked up the cloth and wiped the table. “Thanks. If there’s anything I can do for you, just ask.”

“Survive the first round of the trial before offering favors,” said Flora.

“Right.” Her comment should have awakened the panic that had festered in my gut since the moment I had read Sicily’s note, but after the events of the past two days, I felt wrung out like the dishcloth I had used to wipe the table. I trudged over to the kitchen counter and yawned.

Helen placed an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get an early night.”

I sagged under her touch. “Yeah. Something tells me I won’t get much rest until the end of these trials.”

Most of the remedial students sat around the huge TV set, watching a DVD of soldiers dressed in camouflage uniforms shooting unknown enemies in dust-covered landscapes. A narrator talked over the footage, making me wonder if it was a movie or real life.

After bidding everyone goodnight, Helen and Flora guided me into the stone hallway and up two more flights of wooden stairs to a room with twelve beds.

“This is one of the remedial dorms.”

A breath caught in the back of my throat. “It’s so…”

“Try not to focus on the squalor.” Helen squeezed my hand. “What’s most important is surviving the trials.”

Flora nodded. “After a few weeks, you’ll get used to the cramped conditions.”

Cramped? This room was larger than the homes of four families on our street. Six beds lay in a row against one wall, each with a nightstand on its left, a closet on its right, and a trunk at the foot. Although another six beds and accompanying furniture lay at the opposite wall, the dormitory was roomier than any dwelling I had ever seen.

My thoughts raced, and resentment burned through my insides. Most of the students in my remedial class seemed depressed and listless because they had no magic, but they didn’t realize how much better they lived than the average human in Doolish.

I glanced from Helen to Flora’s saddened features, wondering what kind of luxurious lives they had lived before the remedial classes.

“Are you alright?” asked Helen.

Blinking, I shook off those thoughts. They probably didn’t know anything different, and I expected the Real Housewives would also find this dormitory squalid.

I turned to my new friend and smiled. “Do you think we can practice getting into the twilight stage?”

“Let’s find you somewhere to rest first.” She walked me to the only bed with a plain, white cover and no trinkets on the nightstand. “This one’s free. There are nightclothes in the trunk.”

After changing into a gossamer nightgown that caressed my skin like silk, I lay on the bed and crossed my legs. Helen and Flora also got changed, but into gorgeous, lace negligées that looked faerie-made.

Helen gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Close your eyes and focus all your attention on your hands.”

Leaning back onto a cushioned headboard as soft as clouds, I let my eyes flutter shut and rested the backs of my hands on my thighs. My wings twitched under my back, but the more I ignored them, the more they relaxed.

“What do you feel on the palms of your hand?” asked Helen.

My brows drew together. “A breeze, I think.”

“That could mean an alignment to air magic,” she murmured.

“Or that there’s a draft in the room,” Flora said with a snorting laugh.

I cracked open an eye. Helen and Flora sat on the bed next to mine, with Flora glowering at Helen as though she wanted to incinerate her with her eyes. Was there more to Flora’s animosity toward Helen than the circumstances of her birth? I would have asked, but fear of tomorrow’s trial kept me focussed.

“Flora,” I twisted around and met her purple eyes. “The exercise was working.”

She dipped her head, looking contrite. “Alright, I won’t interrupt this time.”