Faerie Misborn

by Samaire Provost

  She glanced at Renée. “Miss Page already knows this, and understands. The other students have already been informed. Miss Page will impress upon them all the seriousness of this issue.”

  She looked at me, her face grave. “Titania Academy takes such things extremely seriously. Despite your unhappiness at me not being able to disclose your ...” she glanced around. We were outside now, and in public. “... your history, we are still here to protect you and teach you, all the knowledge we can concerning our world.”

  I nodded. I was calming down.

  “Professor Ó Baoghill, I appreciate all you and the school have done for me. I’m still not sure I want to stay,” I said.

  The headmistress looked deeply distressed.

  “Miss Ó Cuilinn, please stay at our Academy,” she said.

  I shook my head. “I probably won’t, to be honest.”

  “I am begging you, Miss Ó Cuilinn,” she whispered. “Holly.”

  I raised my eyebrows. This was the first time the headmistress had used my first name. It meant something, because this was me. I hadn’t even known my last name until Chance told me.

  The headmistress looked into my eyes. “Please.”

  I frowned.

  “Headmistress, I will think about it. But from what you’ve implied, I’m probably someone of importance. And as such, I would really like honesty from you, from now on,” I said.

  “I will give you all the honesty I am allowed to give, I promise,” the headmistress whispered.

  The sun was shining down on us, and the stone steps we were halfway down, having this important exchange, were bright in the daylight.

  Everything seemed just a little bit better when the sun was shining.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything. I will do my very best as well, to fit in and thrive.”

  She nodded, taking my hand and squeezing it gently; then turned and slowly ascended the stairs and walked back into the school.

  “Well, this was a heavy day,” Chance said, a long sprout of grass in his mouth.

  We were all relaxing in the grass, enjoying the sunshine.

  He was right: The day had been so serious and tense, after such a hurtful morning, that spending the day in the sunshine felt like a physical healing.

  I leaned back in the grass, my eyes closed, the sun warm on my face.

  Liesl lay next to me, her hand holding mine. She hadn’t said anything, but had squeezed my hand and held it, and I felt her support and friendship through it.

  Chance lay in the grass on my other side, his hand behind his head, one knee flexed, with the other lying across it.

  Renée sat at my feet, busy making a flower necklace our of clover buds. She seemed determined to stay near me, as much as possible. She’d taken a particular liking to sitting at my feet.

  Weirdo.

  I was slowly beginning to like Renée.

  “I could fall asleep here,” Liesl yawned.

  “I could, too,” I said. “We only got a few hours of sleep, and last night was unreal.” I lifted my shoulders onto my elbows. “Did you hear the headmistress say that thing in the cemetery was a banshee?”

  “You know,” said Liesl, “when she told us that? It did not make me feel any better.”

  I laughed. “Ha ha ha! Liesl, didn’t we think it had been a wight? Which is worse?”

  “Wights.” Chance spoke with absolute certainty.

  “I looked over at him. “Really? But I thought a banshee’s cry could kill?”

  “Nope. I think that tale comes from America; the old legends have been altered. A banshee’s cry heralds a death in the family she protects.”

  “You’re kidding.” I said.

  “No, he’s right,” piped up Renée. “My great grandmother came from Ireland, and when she moved to France as a child with her parents, they brought the family banshee with them. I’m not sure what’s going on with it, but my mother told me all about it.”

  “Told ya,” Chance winked.

  I laughed “Ha ha ha!”

  “Now, a wight is a bit scarier,” Chance said. “They don’t help anyone. In fact, they are quite dangerous, especially to humans who don’t have any protection against them.”

  “When do we learn this protection you speak of?” Liesl said.

  “Second year. I’m learning all about the different forms right now,” Chance said.

  I turned to Renée, “You’re third-year, right?”

  “That’s right. Third-year. Two down, six to go,” Renée said.

  “So, we go from age fourteen ...” I said.

  “Sometimes kids start at thirteen,” said Chance. “It depends on when your birthday is.”

  “... and we go for eight years?” I asked.

  “Yep. And when we leave, we are thoroughly ...” Chance said.

  “Burned out,” interjected Renée.

  “Ha ha ha!” I laughed.

  “... ready for the fae world,” Chance finished.

  “That’s a lot of schooling,” I said.

  “It’s all good. We need to learn this stuff,” Renée said.

  “This must be why the headmistress wants to nip all bullying in the bud,” Liesl said.

  “Yeah, imagine what a place it would be if it was that out of control?” I said. “It’d be like a gangland.”

  “Tell me about it,” Chance said.

  I turned on my side. “Chance,” I said softly.

  He turned his head toward me.

  “You really know all my secrets?” I asked quietly.

  “Every last one,” said Chance bragging. “I even know what your favorite color is!”

  “I don’t have a favorite color!” I said.

  “That you know of,” he said.

  “Ha ha ha ha ha!” I laughed.

  Chance grinned.

  “No, but ... seriously. You know the secrets? The secrets about my past? The secrets the headmistress is not allowed to tell me?” I asked.

  He looked into my eyes. “I know them, yes.”

  I didn’t know what to feel. Chance was my friend. The Fae Council was not allowing anyone to tell me. These people were trying to do what they thought best, and what they thought best was to keep this knowledge from me.

  My knowledge.

  A zillion emotions swirled in my head.

  “Holly,” Chance said.

  I looked at him.

  “I’m not keeping this from you because of the Fae Council, I’m doing it because I care about you.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s just so frustrating,” I said. “I don’t know anything about my heritage. And every single person I had – my mother, my Aunt Clare, everyone – is gone. I feel like I’m adrift in a very small boat, on a very large sea. Probably everyone else at this school knows their family history. Everyone but me.” I shifted on the grass. “Did you know that, before you told me, I’d had no idea when my birthday was?”

  Liesl rubbed my back.

  “Holly, you can come home with me for the holiday break,” said Liesl. “My family will love you.”

  I smiled at my new best friend.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed.

  That evening, Chance invited me to walk in the moonlight: “I want to show you something you may not have seen before.”

  So, after the evening meal, I walked out the front doors and down the steps to meet him.

  It was just after sunset, and the sky was a deep, dark blue. The horizon, just over the treetops, still showed a bit of color; I couldn’t tell if it was orange-blue, or pink-blue.

  I turned my back to the sunset and looked out over the darkening sky.

  Stars were beginning to appear, faint and barely twinkling.

  The cool, crisp evening air felt good in my lungs, and a soft breeze ruffled my white locks.

  Aunt Clare had always told me to hide my hair: that it made me stand out in a crowd, so it was easier for people to spot me.

  When you’re sleeping rough, you want to
be able to hide, to disappear into the background. Especially if you stole food every day.

  Which I had.

  I closed my eyes, inhaling, and thinking about the past month.

  The hardest thing to get used to had been the regular meals.

  They fed you so much at the school!

  Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks: It was very different than what I’d been used to. Living in New York, I’d felt lucky if I ate once a day.

  I patted my middle.

  Was I gaining weight?

  “Hi,” said Chance behind me.

  I turned around.

  “Hey there,” I smiled. “I never got the chance to thank you, for earlier. I’m sorry I ran away, I just ... I couldn’t take the jeers ...”

  “I understand completely,” said Chance. “I think things are going to get better. At least, I hope they are.”

  He looked up into the sky. “Okay, it’s almost time.”

  “Time for what?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said, smiling. “Come on,” he extended his hand.

  I stared at it for a moment before taking it slowly.

  This is weird.

  Chance led me down the front steps and out to the lawn in front of the school. We walked for about ten minutes, up a short slope that led up a hill.

  “Wait, I can’t, ha ha ha!” I stumbled on a rock. “I need both my hands!”

  “Here, I’ll pull you up,” he said.

  “Fine but I’d do better on my own,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” he said as I climbed up to join him.

  “Chance,” I said. “Why are you so protective over me? It’s kinda weird.”

  “I’m protective over all the kids I bring to the school,” he grinned.

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “How many did you bring this year?”

  “Four, counting you.”

  “And of those four, how many are you being overprotective with?”

  “Um ...”

  “I thought so,” I said. “So why me?” I demanded, facing him, my hands on my hips.

  Chance just stared at me.

  I scowled.

  “Well, there’s ...”

  “Yeah?” I asked, trying to get an answer from him.

  “Um, well, there’s your royal background,” Chance said, a foolish look on his face.

  “Yeah. It’s been implied more than once that that probably means I’ve got a great-great-grand-uncle who died fifty years ago who was once a duke or something. How is that grounds for over-protecting me?” I asked.

  “How is that grounds for excessive bullying?” Chance raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you saying they are bullying me for some other reason?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m not sure exactly why they’re bullying you. I just want it to stop,” Chance said, exasperated. “Holly, I will admit I’m a little protective over you, but it’s not because of what you think.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then why is it?”

  “Look,” Chance whispered.

  “What?”

  “Turn around,” he said, gently pulling on my arm.

  “Is this another trick? I swear, Chance, if you ...”

  His insistent tugging made me turn just to satisfy it.

  “Look,” he said.

  I turned my back to him and looked out over the grass.

  “Look up,” he whispered.

  I glanced upward, at the sky.

  And gasped.

  The moon was full. And it was huge.

  Hundreds of fireflies were milling about in the evening air, all over the front lawn of the school.

  I gasped as a shooting star blazed across the sky.

  It was so beautiful, I couldn’t stop looking at the sky. The cool breeze blew my hair up, the fireflies kept gathering, and the grounds looked like a sparkling festival with all the floating firefly lights, and the comet arcing across the sky. It was all so magical.

  A second shooting star flickered across the black inky expanse.

  “This is amazing! Do they portend something? An event that’s going to happen?” I asked.

  “The shooting stars or the fireflies?” asked Chance.

  I laughed. “The shooting stars.”

  “Well, I’m no astronomer, but a poet would tell you, yes,” said Chance. “Now as for the fireflies, they are really active on cool, late summer nights. I think they’re wonderful.”

  “They’re so beautiful!”

  “I thought you’d like them,” Chance whispered.

  “What?” I said.

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Forest Outing

  I woke up the next morning feeling both hopeful and trepidatious. I didn’t know what to expect. Yes, I was “special” – but at this point is my short academic career, I would have far preferred being normal and ordinary.

  I certainly didn’t feel special. I’d always been a survivor, but so were most people living rough.

  Aunt Clare had been a true survivor; she’d taught me all I knew about how to survive on the streets. She had not, however, taught me how to survive when other people – people who may have wished me ill will – knew more about me than I knew about myself.

  It was insane.

  Liesl and I made our way downstairs to breakfast. Chance was already there, and Renée soon joined us.

  We made quite the group.

  “Chance, do you want to go down to the forest?” Liesl asked. “I’ve heard it’s filled with all sorts of magical creatures.”

  “Maybe,” said Chance. “Should we all head down there after breakfast?”

  “Sure,” I said. Having spent my first fourteen years in the human world, I was itching to see what discoveries the fae world held in store for me.

  “Sounds like fun,” said Renée. “This time of year, we might even spot some of the spring and summer babies that were born.”

  “Curious,” I said, munching on a slice of half-crispy, half-chewy bacon. “What year do we learn about all the creatures in the fae forest?”

  “I think that’s in second semester of Year One,” said Renée. She glanced at Chance. “Isn’t that right?”

  Chance nodded.

  I picked up another slice of bacon. I was loving all the exotic foods in the lunchroom. I’d never tasted bacon before, living on the streets of New York City, I had missed that experience.

  I thought back to my life before meeting Chance.

  Back to life with Aunt Clare.

  We had always had it rough, but we’d always somehow made do.

  The others living on the streets were always there to compete with, but also there to help out.

  Central Park had been a refuge to visit nearly every day. It hadn’t been that far from the underground tunnels.

  My life with Aunt Clare had been hard, that was for sure.

  But I missed her so much.

  “Come on, daydreamer,” said Renée. “Let’s go have some forest fun before we start all the hard work next week.”

  We made our way out of the lunchroom. Chance ducked into the kitchens and emerged ten minutes later with several bags he distributed to each of us.

  “Lunch,” he explained when I looked at him with a questioning look.

  “What about water?” Renée said.

  “There’s a stream in the woods,” said Chance. “It’s got clean water. We can drink from it. The water there tastes better than any water I’ve ever tasted anywhere.”

  “Okay,” Renée smiled.

  Down the stairs we went, Chance leading the way. As his foot touched the bottom step, Chance fell forward and dropped to the ground.

  “OH!” Liesl rushed forward to help Chance.

  He lifted himself into a sitting position, and sat there, holding his head.

  A trickle of blood dripped from a small wound on his eyebrow.

  “Hey,” I said, crouching in front of him, “You okay? Let’s get you inside.”

  Chance sh
ook his head. “No, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

  He got to his feet and stood there, swaying.

  Liesl grasped his upper arm. “Chance, you’re feeling kind of warm.”

  Renée studied the fifteen-year-old boy. “Your face is a bit red. You sure you’re okay, Chance?”

  “Yes, yes, I am fine.” He brushed off Liesl’s concerned hand and stretched, arching his back. Then he smiled and winked at us.

  “Let’s go!” Chance laughed and trotted out onto the grass.

  “You sure?” called Renée.

  “Absolutely! I feel fine. Let’s go. We’re burning daylight.” He stopped and gestured for us to follow.

  “Guess we should go,” Renée shrugged, and started walking.

  Liesl and I jogged to catch up.

  We turned to the right, then headed across the field and into the woods.

  The minute we stepped into the trees it got darker.

  I looked around.

  “Why ...? I asked.

  Renée pointed up, and I looked skyward.

  The treetop canopy nearly obliterated the sky, and let in very little light.

  “Is that normal?” Liesl asked.

  “Normal for this wood,” said Chance. “It’s not like the forest in the human world.” He looked around.

  “A lot of magical faeborn live in these woods, a lot of creatures interacting together,” said Chance, half whispering.

  It was like that. I glanced behind me and saw the schoolyard just a few paces away, then turned back to the majesty of the dark woods.

  “Let’s go this way,” Renée suggested.

  We followed a faint animal trail about a mile into the forest. Then another mile.

  “We should be near the stream by now,” Chance said. “Then we can take a breather and eat lunch.”

  We walked another mile.

  No stream.

  Chance was still leading us along the animal trail. Liesl was close behind Chance, followed by me, then Renée. We were spreading out quite a bit, and I could barely see Chance ahead of me.

  I jogged up to Liesl and tapped her shoulder. “Hey,” I said.

  She turned her head. “Yeah?”

  “Switch places with me?” I asked.

  “Okay,” Liesl said.