“Can’t I leave you alone for even a moment?” Bain plopped down next to me and grabbed my hand. “You were drawing it to you.”
“I...wasn’t!” How could I have been? “I was just wondering what is on the other side that’s rightfully part of my life. My parents made the decision to leave it behind, but I didn’t.”
“It’s not the time. None of the students are allowed to cross over right now,” he said. “Let’s go to the library and work on your history lesson. I was waiting for you, and when you didn’t show up, I had a feeling I’d find you here.” He studied my face. “You can’t obsess over the veil. It will make you crazy.”
“My grandma is probably over there wondering why I don’t come to visit,” I insisted. “And Grandpa. And the aunts.”
He reeled back and looked at me. “You have grandparents waiting for a visit?”
“Yes. No. I have no idea.” But my voice was choked with sobs. “But isn’t that the point? My parents sent me all the way here for school. So I could connect with the things that were part of their lives once. So, wouldn’t they want me to meet any family who might be over there? Isn’t that the point?”
“Endy, I have no idea what their plan was, but I can tell you none of us are allowed to go over, and that includes me. And you. The veil has issues, and you aren’t sure if you have grandparents or anything, but I know I do. And I’m not visiting them.” His pleasant, easygoing demeanor was notably absent. “If you were to get into the veil and something used your breach of the fabric to make its way here, wouldn’t you feel awful?”
I shook my head. “I’m a fairy without wings, who is not allowed to go to Fairyland.” I studied his face to see his reaction to my naming the place, but he didn’t show anything I could grasp onto. “Why send me here for college if I can’t fully participate in my own heritage? I could have just stayed at home, gone to junior college, worked part-time jobs, and never even known I was supposed to have wings.”
Bain stood and dragged me up with him. “Okay. I don’t have the answers to your questions, but I do know you have a saga to memorize before class tomorrow. How much progress have you made on learning it?”
That shut me down. “Ummm, pretty much none. I’ve been busy.”
“Uh-huh.” He dropped an arm over my shoulders and drew me along with him, away from the veil and toward the library. “So busy, you didn’t have time to do your homework. Lucky for you, I’m a genius at memorization. Did you know fairy kids start learning that way in kindergarten?”
“No wonder I’m the worst of anyone in the classes.” My chest was tight. “How can I hope to compete with all of you?” It was worse than I thought. “Maybe I really should quit.”
He paused and turned me to face him. “You didn’t have to come back this fall, right?”
I shrugged. “Right.”
“So why did you?” He studied me closely. “It would have been easier not to, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m not even sure,” I told him honestly. “But it seemed important. Like the right thing to do.”
A grin quirked one corner of his mouth. “I hoped you’d say I played a part in your decision. That you didn’t want to never see me again.”
“What an ego!” I teased, but he was more right than I was ready to admit to yet.
His sigh made me giggle. “All right, Endy, let’s start on the lesson while we walk. It’s the story of the Unseelie Rebellion, if I remember correctly.”
We passed under a group of students flying circles around the courtyard, and I tried not to suffer wing envy.
“Endy? The Unseelie Rebellion?”
“The clouds hung low, the sun didn’t shine and—are all these stories so dramatic and full of weather?”
“Yes, now start again.”
We found a comfy couch tucked way back in the library stacks and sat side by side while I practiced the story over and over until I had it more-or-less perfect, with Bain giving me plenty of encouragement in the form of kisses. I thought I’d finally found a great fairy study method. At least it was far better than crying and wailing and cursing the professors as I’d been doing up until now.
Chapter Fourteen
Memorizing the story of the Unseelie Rebellion had brought out the badass in me. I walked to my next class, weapons, with my head held high and my chest puffed out like I was one of the victorious leaders of said rebellion.
But as I stepped onto the field and looked up, my false bravado cracked and my chest deflated until I could swear my sternum touched my spine.
“Am I late?” I asked no one in particular, checking the watch on my wrist. I wasn’t late, but apparently, I was behind in everything else.
Maeve, from her hovering perch in the air, looked down on me and grimaced. She flapped her turquoise and golden wings and descended until she landed right next to me on her feet. Her leather pants and fitted black tank top made her look like one of those rebellious fairies from the story or what I’d imagined they looked like.
“You’re not late, Endy.”