Page 37 of Fae Trials

“Nothing. The people I thought were my mother and father never existed.” He shook his head. “They were just names on a tombstone from three hundred years ago. I was supposed to have grown up in Balley Chashtal, but when I got there, I recognized nobody.”

“Did you ever find out the identity of your faerie parent?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

I turned to Helen. “Why do faeries do this to their own offspring?”

“Inheritance.” She rubbed the back of her neck and cringed.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Fae brides are supposed to be chaste before marriage, but grooms are expected to sow their wild oats. If their first-borns are half-bloods, they stand to inherit the wealth.”

Helen glanced between Mr. Whittaker and me as though checking that we understood her words. I gave her a blank stare. Faeries could curse humans with infertility. If a faerie was cruel enough to erase a child’s memory, they could use their magic to make sure it was never born. It also made no sense that their laws would allow illegitimate half-bloods inheritance rights.

When neither of us indicated that we understood, she blew out a breath. “Replacing their memories stops that child from knowing their birthright, and the inheritance can go to the full-blooded heir.”

Mr. Whittaker’s lips tightened, and his eyes drooped. My chest clenched in sympathy for him. At least my memories weren’t false. According to the searches the guards made, my parents had existed and Mrs. Yates was real. This was proof that Sicily was also real and out there somewhere, needing my help.

“Try rubbing salt on your wings,” he said in a low voice. “It might calm the magic enough for your muscles to take control.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

Our teacher walked away, his shoulders slumped. Helen and I watched him in silence. What could anyone say to someone whose identity had been stolen so ruthlessly?

“Does that happen a lot?” I asked.

“Only among certain noble houses,” she replied. “It’s cruel, but back in the days of Queen Maeve, fae noblemen often killed human women pregnant with their half-bloods.”

A shudder ran down my spine at her implication. Only the existence of King Oberon’s pact with the UN was keeping them from committing further murders.

“Be careful with Prince Caulden.” Helen levitated her hula hoop and made it glow with weak magic. “You caused him to look foolish in front of the remedial class. Slights like that are never forgotten.”

“Thanks.” I threw my yellow hoop toward the pool, but it flew five feet and rolled onto the ground.

Mr. Whittaker blew a whistle and gathered us back to the classroom. We sat back at our seats, and when he was assured of our attention, he stood in front of his desk and clasped his hands.

“One of our students is about to die,” he said.

Shocked gasps echoed through the classroom, and every ounce of blood drained from my face and rushed toward my heart. My breaths became labored, and sweat gathered on my brow. He was right, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to change my destiny.

Helen placed a comforting hand on my wrist, but I couldn’t feel her touch.

“I’m sorry for putting things bluntly, but it’s the truth.” He swept his arm in my direction. “Someone already made one attempt at assassination, and it won’t be the last. Because of a terrible circumstance of magic, Unity Quayle will die horribly.”

Mr. Whittaker walked around the desks, fixing everyone with a penetrating stare. Nobody spoke. Nobody even took a breath. From what little I knew of the male, his statement seemed unexpectedly cruel.

After he reached the final student, he returned to the front of the desk and spread his arms wide. “There is a way to save Unity.”

I sucked a breath through my teeth, waiting for a miracle.

“Between the entire class, each of you has enough knowledge, power, and skills to help Unity survive.” He balled his fists. “If we rally together, we might even end up with a half-blood occupying an elevated position within the Fae Courts.”

Excited chatter broke out, and my breaths became ragged. Everyone in this room came from a powerful family, and those who hadn’t had their memories replaced had to know something that might help me survive these trials.

“My final word before we break for the day is to please set aside your differences, delve deep, and offer Unity Quayle a hand.”

Mr. Whittaker dismissed the class and walked out, leaving everyone staring at me. I sat stiffly in my seat, my heart thudding so hard, I felt its reverberations in the tips of my toes. Who would be the first to come forward and help?