Page 32 of Fae Games

When they opened the door and guided me into the safety of the remedial building, I stood against the cool stone wall, breathing hard.

“Bloody hell.” I raised my hands and stared at my trembling fingers. “This is getting so real.”

They not only wanted me to become their mate, but they were willing to share. It didn’t matter what Queen Titania thought of my beauty or otherwise. My handsome, fae princes would declare their intentions at the end of the next trial, putting an end to this farce.

“Unity?” said a voice from a doorway further into the building.

I turned around to find Mr. Whittaker, his brows drawn together in a concerned frown. “Florensis told me that Prince Caulden took you to the Mound for a garment.” His gaze dropped to my empty hands. “Where is it?”

“Confiscated,” I said.

He tilted his head to the side. “I beg your pardon?”

“Queen Titania sent Prince August to meet us at the academy doors.” A frustrated breath blew out from my lungs. “He took it away.”

“I see.” The older half-blood chewed his bottom lip.

My shoulders rose into a shrug. “Apparently, the queen didn’t approve of me getting help from the princes.”

“In that case…” Mr. Whittaker stared down at the stone floor.

I stepped forward. “What’s on your mind, sir?”

“There is someone who might be able to help.” He gulped. “I wasn’t going to mention this option unless you hadn’t fashioned an outfit by the evening.”

My breaths quickened. If there was a third party with the funds to buy me another dress, I had to know. “Who is it?”

“A young faerie by the name of Pokeweed.”

“I know him!” The words tumbled out from my mouth. “He’s helped me already.”

Mr. Whittaker’s face lightened. “That’s wonderful news. Pokeweed is in full control of his powers, but I’d hate for people to get wind of this fact and take advantage of his good nature.”

“Right.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it would be great to see Pokeweed again.

“He usually works out in the gardens around this time of day.” Mr. Whittaker turned around and headed for the back door. “Come with me.”

I followed the remedial teacher through the hallway, passing the wooden door that led to the classroom. Our footsteps echoed against the stone, filling the silence. As we passed the gymnasium and reached the back exit, I asked, “Where is everyone?”

“They just left for lunch and won’t return for an hour.” He held the door open, letting in the scent of juniper and roses.

“Thanks.” I stepped out onto the white patio. Beyond the outdoor barbecue space and at the end of the meadow, a flock of unicorns stood at the edge of the woods, seeming to watch us leave.

I snatched my gaze away from the creatures and hurried after Mr. Whittaker, who walked along the remedial building’s exterior in the opposite direction to the stables. About a dozen horses of colors ranging from brilliant white to midnight black grazed in the surrounding meadow.

“Sir?” I asked. “Would you mind answering a question about your memories?”

His shoulders stiffened, but he turned his head to the side and gave me a sharp nod. “I’ll share whatever I know.”

“Master Gladiolus told me that you came to the academy with memories of a human family that existed centuries ago.”

We walked on a path of flat, round stepping stones that stretched across a meadow of knee-high wildflowers that engulfed us in their sweet scent. A warm breeze made the flowers sway in the wind and release multicolored streams of pollen that swirled in the air.

Mr. Whittaker rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “In some respects, I feel like Rip Van Winkle. Have you read the story?”

“No, but I’ve heard of the legend.” I licked my dry lips, hoping I didn’t say something hurtful or offensive. “Do you still think your memories are real?”

A harsh chuckle huffed out from his lips. “Sometimes, they’re more real than having a common miller’s apprentice teach magic in the Royal Fae Academy. Does that answer all your questions?”