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Nope. Not even imagining my future then.
17
“My brain can’t take anymore,” I mumble, kneading my knuckles into my temples. We’re entrenched on Mack’s bottom bunk, surrounded by empty Sour Patch Kids packages, Pringle cans, and a near-empty liter of orange Crush.
Thank God, her parents sent a care package full of her favorite treats, which we’ve managed to nearly demolish over the weekend.
We’ve also slammed a kajillion cups of coffee and my heart twitches weirdly in my chest.
“Almost done for tonight,” Mack promises.
I glare at the windowpanes being pelted by relentless snow. “Are you sure it’s night time? It could be midday for all we know.”
Mack turns her wrist to flash a hot-pink watch. “It’s set to Everwilde time.”
The watch face shows just after midnight.
We’ve already blown through elemental magic and soul magic, the two main types used by the Evermore, and are deep into the history of the Fae courts. It feels like months have passed, not days.
“Besides,” I continue, talking through a yawn. “What more is there to know? Summer hates Winter; Winter hates Summer. They’ve basically started every single war between Seelie and Unseelie since the dawn of time.”
“And the upcoming Nocturus may start another war,” Mack adds nonchalantly.
“Kill me now,” I moan.
Mack laughs. Then her expression gets all serious, and she flips the screen of her laptop to face me, pointing at the map of what used to be the western half of the United States but is now Everwilde territory. “Name the courts and their territories.”
I spout off the courts in each location as she watches proudly. The academy sits in the center of all the territories, a neutral Island surrounded by a magical sea.
In addition to the huge wall and wards surrounding the academy, the waters are enchanted with protection spells. All meant to keep the darklings out.
There are neutral cities, as well, off the nearby coasts, but first year Evermore students rarely leave campus.
With an impressed grin, Mack shuts her MacBook. “Enough for tonight. Don’t want your brain exploding all over the room. You need to be fresh for your first day of school tomorrow.”
Ugh. That. I’ve never felt so nervous about starting school before, and the knot of anxiety I’ve had since I arrived tightens at the thought.
Despite my nerves, I fall asleep almost immediately. I wake up a few hours later. Mack snores above me, tiny snorts that make me grin.
Too restless to fall back asleep, I pull out the photo of my parents from where I stashed it under my mattress. The light is too dim to see much, so I pad to the window until moonlight washes over the picture.
Fingerprints streak the glossy surface. I stare down at the people I’m supposed to remember, a ragged sigh escaping my lips. It took five years after my parents were murdered to finally look at their faces without reliving the night they died.
And that’s only because I ran away from the farm and found someone in Fort Worth, a woman who specialized in forbidden Everwilde artifacts. I had nothing to pay her, but she took pity on me and gave me the necklace around my neck to draw the tragic memory of my parents’ death away.
Only, the ruby stripped all my memories of them, right down to what they looked like, what their voices sounded like, how they smiled. I realized my mistake immediately, but when I returned to look for the woman, she was gone.
The owner of the diner next door told me she was a dirty-blood, a half-Fae half-human, and that a crowd had gathered around her apartment above her shop while she slept and scared her away.
Then he spit at her blue door and said, “Good riddance.”
Dirty-bloods don’t last long in the Tainted Zone. By law they’re not supposed to live in human lands, and the Fae pay handsomely in magical artifacts for information that leads to the capture and deportation of one back to Everwilde.
Meanwhile, full-blooded Fae with visas live in the Untouched Zone where they’re treated like celebrities.
“Gosh, I’m glad you guys aren’t alive to see how far we’ve fallen,” I say to the picture, waving it back and forth as I try to conjure a memory—any memory—of them.
But just like every other time, nothing surfaces. I touch my necklace, cool and hard between my breasts. I’ve pushed aside what happened in the lake because the memory is too painful, but now, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something to my pendant beyond the stored memory.
