Page 19 of Faerie Gift

His joke went over well and the professors behind him let out a low rumble of shared laughter. Staring at each other like they knew better and the rest of us were dummies who would soon find out which side of the bread was buttered.

Since my last name began with an A, I was one of the first students called up to the stage. Fine, great. I’d taken my potion that morning, a fresh batch to assure none of my wolf snuck through, and felt confident if somewhat nervous.

This is not a test, I reminded myself. This wasn’t something I could be graded on. When it was done, I’d have a better understanding of where I fell in the spectrum and what my magic power could be.

Nothing wrong there. Or at least nothing I could mess up.

I walked sedately—more sedately than I felt—onto the stage when it was my turn. One of the teachers stepped forward with a sterile package containing a slender silver needle. This was my least favorite part.

Swallowing hard, knowing the rest of my class watched me from the dimness of the auditorium, I took the package, unwrapped it, and used the needle to prick my own finger. A quick flash of pain accompanied the puncture.

“Now the test strip,” the teacher said.

It was similar to the prick of the finger from my first night at the academy. The same one I’d taken to prove my halfling status to the school. Most students gained access to the schools in a similar way by showing they possessed faerie blood.

Except this time around, I didn’t have even a tenth of the anxiety I’d felt previously. Then, I’d almost passed out in fear of discovery. Because if I didn’t have this school…

If I didn’t have a place here, my bloodthirsty fated mate would be my bloodthirstyhusband. And I would rather die than see Kendrick Grimaldi’s ring on my finger.

I pressed the pooling blood down on the slender strip and watched tiny sparks fly in a shower of red and gold. Holding my breath, I watched a sigil appear against the white paper. It grew clearer with each passing second.

Innate power, huh? I definitely didn’tfeelpowerful.

The teacher looked down, saw the sigil, and stepped back with a gasp. She grabbed the paper from me and held it up for the headmaster to see.

A rock dropped into the pit of my stomach as the two of them had a short, hushed discussion before turning to me.

Oh God. What had I donenow? I didn’t think I could mess this up, and yet—

“Cognitive manipulation, Miss Alderidge,” Leaves called out. His eyes searched over me and I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or scared. Maybe both. He inclined his head.

“This is a rare gift,” the teacher told me with a wide smile. “Rare and beautiful. Well met, child. Well met.”

I let out a breath but it did nothing to calm my galloping heart.

“What does it mean?” I asked through numb lips.

“You can make peopleseethings. Whatever you want them to see.” The teacher handed the strip back to me. “Congratulations, Miss Alderidge.”

Congratulations?

A hand took hold of my elbow to guide me off the stage to make room for the next student. When I looked up, I saw Professor Marsh at my side, her gaze fixed at some point ahead.

“I’m not surprised, you know, about the cognitive manipulation,” Marsh said without looking down at me. “You’re rumored to be excelling at your magic. Not simply in my class but with all your classes.”

“I wouldn’t sayexcelling,” I tried to correct her.

“I would.” Her tone told me it was senseless to argue. “Cognitive manipulation does not manifest often, and those with the gift usually go on to accomplish great things in their lifetime. You will have a lot to live up to, Tavi.”

Groaning, I told her, “Because yeah, I needmorepressure on me.”

“I’m also extremely excited to see how you fare with your new obsidian gazing ball this term.” Marsh stopped at a long, low oak table filled with brochures. She swept her hand over the material then pointed to one. “Take your booklet. It has information on cognitive manipulation for you. You’ll have a better understanding once you read through it.”

I shook my head before grabbing the indicated booklet. “I’m not sure how I feel about the wordmanipulation.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Marsh said nothing more, swiveling on her heel to get back to the next student. Instead of returning to my seat in the auditorium, I stayed in the darkened wings off the stage for a moment more, fingering the brochure. It was thicker than I’d thought. When I glanced down at the table, noting the other booklets pertaining to certain gifts, I saw there was very little literature on my innate power compared to some of the others.

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