Page 17 of Crashing Tides

“You really did grow up in a bubble, didn’t you?”

“I really, truly had no idea we were fae. Absolutely zero,” I say. “Cross my heart.”

“And you never did any research.”

“Hey, fae are cagey, OK? I tried, but a lot of this shit is behind a paywall.”

Her eyes roll. “You can get around a paywall, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” I huff. I’m no good with technology. I can submit a paper and do some basic computing, but I’m no hacker.

“Sometimes, I wonder how you’re still alive,” she scoffs. “Your mom had scars on her ears, and it never occurred to you?”

“She said it was an accident,” I shrug. “She never told me anything. It was like interrogating a brick wall.”

“And you never suspected?”

I shake my head. “I just thought she was crazy.”

“Alarming that you’d say that about your own mother,” she says, but I can see the laughter in her eyes.

In Intermediate Myth, Magic, and History, we sit together. I tap my pen against my notebook, trying to quell my nerves. Students filter in. My heart rate rises with each new arrival.

They’re almost all better dressed than Jane and I, and noticeably more fae, with pointed ears and pretty faces. Their jewel-bright eyes sweep over us—topaz, aquamarine, peridot, amber. No one sits nearby until the other desks are taken.

A fae guy with ash blond hair and gray eyes sees us, stops dead in his tracks, and makes a beeline for the back of the room.

Later, I’ll find out his name is Duncan Stirling. For now, my face reddens.

“Ignore him,” Jane hisses. “Seriously. No one’s judging you.”

I try to look nonchalant. I lean back in my seat, stretch my arms over my head, cross my ankles. We’re near the front of the room, which is a little ambitious for my tastes, but I don’t have any other friends except for Aleo. Since he’s in a different class, I’m sticking close to Jane, who I can already tell is an exceptional student. And fine, I barely made it through college because I was more worried about my personal life than academics. Probably, it was a good thing I’d made a smart friend. Maybe I’d retain some information.

When Dr Ward finally strolls into class, wearing pink kitten heels and a teal power suit, I’m almost relaxed. None of my peers have addressed me, and I’m trying to convince myself maybe that’s a good thing.

“Good morning,” says Dr Ward, smiling wide, clicking her way to the chalkboard (an actual chalkboard, not a whiteboard or projector—I hadn’t seen anything like it in years). Her face is perfectly fae, with a pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a long, slender neck.

Her gaze catches on me, then Jane. Something in her expression changes.

Fuck. She must’ve heard about me.

It makes sense. I have no idea what I’m doing. I probably shouldn’t be here. But it hurts to realize that I’ve already been singled out, that my professors were warned that I was probably going to need extra help.

And they were right.

Dr Ward misses not a single second. “For those of you who may be wondering, this is my twenty-seventh year teaching, and my eighth year at Halea. Prior to this, I taught at Smithson University, then the Batch Institute.”

There must be something to this, because a few of my classmates straighten up in their seats, suddenly attentive. I scribble down the name and make a note to look it up later, if I can. Maybe Jane can show me how to get around a pay wall, since she’s so good at it.

Clapping her hands together, Dr Ward says, “Well, let’s get started!”

There are no introductions. No attendance is taken. She launches into the first lesson with ferocity, and I spend the rest of class scrawling down names and events I don’t recognize, making desperate note of any texts she happens to mention offhand.

I can’t fail. I won’t fail. But her eyes keep landing on me, and I can’t fight the urge to hunch further forward even though it means she might spot my rounded ears through my hair.

I should grow my hair out, I think. But there’s no hiding that my face isn’t quite fae, either. It doesn’t matter. I’ll blend in better.

By the end of the day, my face is red from humiliation, and I’ve accepted that I’m going to flunk out. I’m missing too much information. Nothing in Dr Ward’s class made sense and that was after I read three books in preparation.