Page 8 of Crashing Tides

I nod.

It might have been a dream. It was probably a dream. But I remembered too well the childish horror that filled me as I stood before the shattered glass, teary-eyed and panicked, certain that my mom would find out and scream at me and⁠—

—and then the frame wasn’t broken anymore. It was back on the table, fully intact, like nothing had ever happened.

Orea nods politely. “But you never, I don’t know, saved yourself from drowning, or getting hit by a car or anything? Have you ever saved any of your friends? Have you ever shifted into an animal?”

I shake my head. “Not that I can think of.” I’m pretty sure I’d remember turning into a werewolf or something. I’ve never saved anyone from anything more dangerous than a runaway bowling ball. I’m embarrassed to admit out loud that I never got close enough to water to have a near-drowning experience.

I wish I’d thought to spike my coffee. This would be easier to process.

“Interesting,” says Orea. “It’s unusual for someone with your pedigree to be magic-less, but it happens.”

That’s an option? My heart twists in my chest. “OK, what if I don’t have magic?”

“You can still attend. Students up to one-sixteenth fae still meet our requirements. Obviously, we’d have to adjust your schedule, but you would still earn a full master’s degree.”

That’s… reassuring, actually. “Is it… common for fae not to have magic?”

“It’s certainly not unheard of. I would estimate that fifteen percent of our students have no or low magic. They’re still highly valued members of society.”

The ball of anxiety in my stomach begins to loosen. “OK.”

“You wouldn’t be looked down upon,” she adds.

That’s good to know. “How do I know if I have magic?”

“We’ll test you,” she chirps.

Crap. I’m a terrible test-taker. “What does that entail?”

A little smirk crosses her face, like she can smell my fear. “Don’t worry, the results won’t be made public. You’ll be asked to demonstrate a series of tasks and we’ll determine your abilities based on your performance.”

A series of tasks? My stomach twists. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know, levitating a book, lighting a fire, that kind of thing.”

“I… don’t think I know how to levitate a book,” I admit.

“We’ll teach you.” Baring those strange, pointed teeth, she grins reassuringly.

I’m highly skeptical of this, still wracking my brain for any evidence that I can do magic. Any strange coincidences, anything I can’t explain…

I come up with nothing.

We spend the next hour discussing a timeline. I need to report to Halea for testing before term begins. After some back and forth, we agree on a date. She jots it down in a ridiculously expensive planner. It’s so fancy that I’m suddenly embarrassed to be drinking coffee out of a chipped pink mug with a faded picture of Jack Nicholson holding an ax.

And then she leaves, and I’m alone with the shattered remains of my life.

Chapter

Four

Ispend the next two months fruitlessly attempting to learn magic.

Mom’s notebooks are full of information, but there’s nothing about casting spells. An internet search reveals nothing helpful—I don’t want to summon a demon or force anyone to love me. There are absolutely no free resources for fae magic, and I don’t want to pay for something that might be a scam.

Locked out of magic by a paywall. How depressing.