Page 20 of Faerie Gift

Rare. The teacher had called it rare. And beautiful.

You will have a lot to live up to.

No, no. Not me. I wanted a quiet life under the radar.

Another groan shook me and I let my head drop back on my neck. I didn’t want this to put a magnifying glass over me any more than I already had one.

It took a while longer for Mike’s name to be called for his test. I watched him strut onto the stage with all the confidence befitting his status as Crown Prince. More than a few sighs came from the audience, along with a handful of claps and whistles, and I wondered if his fan club had grown or if I was just becoming more aware of it.

Either way, I didn’t like what I heard.

Calm it down,girl.

The teacher walked Mike through the same blood test and I watched the strip spark, changing color with the results.

“Time manipulation,” Headmaster Leaves called out for the benefit of the assembly. He must have recognized the symbol from his perch. “Very nice.”

The teacher holding the strip let out a low whistle. “A notoriously difficult power to master, Mr. Thornwood.”

Mike blanched. I wasn’t sure the rest of the gathered students saw it, but I did, catching the way his breathing hitched. “Difficult?” he repeated.

“Come on, young man. Let’s not dawdle.” Marsh had to practically haul Mike backstage when he stood rooted in shock.

I waited for him with a wide smile because he seriously looked like he’d deflated several inches. His cheeks were pale with a slightly green tint.

“Hey, great! Time manipulation? Look at you go. A difficult power,” I said, infusing as much enthusiasm and excitement into the statement as I could. “It couldn’t have manifested in a stronger person.”

“Oh, stop.” Mike moaned and stared down at his palms. Like a drop of blood had somehow betrayed him.

Professor Marsh reached for a book—not a booklet—at the corner of the table and dropped it into Mike’s limp hands. He nearly dropped it. “Read this and then get back to me if you have any questions,” she said.

Short and sweet, that was Marsh, and one of the things I appreciated about her. As the professor strode off to help the next student, Mike stood staring at his literature, the size of an old-fashioned encyclopedia volume.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked him when he didn’t say anything. “I meant what I said about you being strong. Talk to me.”

He opened the book and ran a finger down the table of contents. Landed on a line explaining the “rules of time manipulation.” I saw from the numbers that the chapter went on for more than one hundred pages.

Damn.

“There are so many guidelines with this power,” he muttered. “How am I going to manage it? I’m going to fail. There’s no way I can keep up with the rules without messing something up. I could hurt people. Change things I’m not supposed to change and create new timelines…” His lips opened and closed as he floundered for something more to say.

I wasn’t sure how one couldfailat their innate powers, but the more I thought about it, the more worried about him I became. Time was a fickle thing, and having power over it had the potential to be very good. Orverybad.

“You aren’t going to fail,” I said firmly. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“You promise?”

“No,” I answered with a chuckle. “I just know those extra study sessions we talked about are going to come in handy. I’m not sure what kind of help I can be but I’ll be happy to read with you and offer moral support.”

I turned back to my own brochure. I didn’t want to think aboutrulesyet. While my literature wasn’t nearly the size of Mike’s, I knew it would take a lot for me to memorize everything. The power to make people see what I wanted them to see…

My memory wasridiculouslybad. At least, it had been until now. Mike wanted to talk about messing up and hurting people? I had the power to go into people’s minds and alter their perceptions of reality. If I messed up, could I cause permanent brain damage, or bodily harm? Could I make someone hurt themselves? Kill themselves?

I was still holding the test strip in hand, the bright red symbol which apparently affirmed cognitive manipulation shining bright in the gloom.

My stomach sank further when I moved my thumb and saw the outline of somethingelseon the opposite side. With Mike leafing through his information book, I turned my back slightly and flipped over the test strip.

There, in blue, glowed a second symbol.

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