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TWO YEARS AGO
Hallie crumpled the paper between her fists as the first tear hit her desk.
Of course she didn’t get in. Sabine University’s folklore program was only the most competitive in the country. And of course she didn’t apply anywhere else. And of course she had already told her parents—who already told everyone they knew—that she was a shoo-in.
And of course Kat had tried to tell her.
Stupid. She should have listened to Wyn. To Kat. But Kat was gone now, and it seemed she’d taken every good thing along with her.
Hallie rubbed at the fresh red scar across her collarbone. Even if she wanted to forget it all, she couldn’t.
After the accident, she had nearly failed her last literature class, missing the deadline for the biggest paper of the semester. Luckily, the professor had been understanding and let her turn it in late. Even a C was better than a 0.
And she got nothing done the entire week of the funeral.
And now this. Hallie sincerely hoped it was true that bad things came in threes. Maybe this meant the bad was finally past, like the spring shower pelting her windowpane.
How was she ever going to explain to her parents?
She tossed the crumpled paper onto her crowded desk where it was lost amidst her notes and books for finals. None of it seemed to matter now. She might as well skip her last final tomorrow and start packing up her dorm room. She stretched her arms over her head and leaned back in the chair, taking a shaky breath.
“You could always ask for help,” came a voice from behind her.
A male voice.
Hallie’s chair hit the cement floor with a thunk, and she spun to face the intruder without standing. A boy about her age stood in the door, his hair shaggy and storm-tossed from the wind outside. His black frames almost hid his eyes behind the glint of the fluorescent light, and behind him, her dorm’s door was definitely still closed. And locked.
“How did you get in here?” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
“The more important point is that I’m here,” he responded with a toothy smile. “After all, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Don’t you want to know how I can help you?”
The air seemed to shimmer around the young man. There was more to him than what she could see, she knew that. Yet, in this moment, it didn’t seem important that she remember why she should care. Why she might worry. Wyn, as a Fae, had taught her something, but Hallie’s brain was fuzzy, like this boy radiated something to make her forget.
Her locked door was concerning. But she had summoned a Fae, any Fae, in the hopes that she could still fix at least one thing in her life. She just never thought one would actually appear.
And then she was speaking before she even realized it. “How can you help me?”
His grin grew even wider, were that possible. He took another few steps into the room. The crumpled rejection letter rolled from the pile of notes and smoothed itself in front of her. She snatched it up and held it to her chest as if she could hide the painful words from him.
“I can make that rejection...” He thought for a moment, looking up into a distant corner. A sharp tooth glinted in the artificial light of the dorm. “Transform.”
“Transform?”
“You want to get in, right? To be a student at Sabine? Well, I can make that happen.”
Hallie’s breath caught in her throat. He could get her in? How?
“I have ways,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “But it won’t be for free.”
Her heart dropped. Of course. No magic was ever free.
“What do you want?” she forced from her wooden lips.
He smiled again. “Not much. I just want your first discovery. Your academic firstborn, if you will.”
“What?”
“I get the credit for your first discovery, my dear. That’s all.”
That was it? Her first paper would belong to him, whoever he was? That didn’t seem so bad. Her mind scrambled furiously, trying to see a downside to the offer, but nothing came to mind.
She should stop here. Think on it. Sleep on it. Wasn’t that what Wyn had always told her? Don’t trust the Fae too easily?
But why? She could change her fate. And all it would cost was a single piece of research. Didn’t she have a whole lifetime ahead of her, anyway? Her entire life to learn folklore, to find out where story and truth intersected?
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Wonderful!” he said.
The boy stepped forward, extending a hand. She rose from her desk chair and took it. Vines of golden-green magic wrapped around both their arms, and the air hummed with energy. She could feel it sinking into her skin, a warmth like the first breath of spring air.
He released her hand and gestured at the letter, still clutched against her chest. “Look.”
She pulled it away, her eyes scanning the page quickly.
Congratulations, it said in place of We are sorry to inform you...
Hallie caught her breath. So easily? Could it really be that simple? She looked back up at the boy.
“It is done,” the boy said. And then he was gone.
