“Um… nothing. Just a random—really random—question.” I swallowed, knowing how weird this was going to sound. “Do you knit?”
A moment of silence. “Well, yeah,” Deena said slowly. “But none of that grandma sweater stuff,” Deena said, talking faster. “I make handbags and sell them online. Well, most of them,” she amended. “Why’d you ask?”
I cleared my throat. “You knit…you knit handbags.”
“That’s what I said,” Deena said.
Caleb—dream-Caleb—had been right. Again. The whole nurse-named-Kate could have been a coincidence; Kate wasn’t an uncommon name. But Caleb had talked about Deena knitting a purse. There was no way my subconscious would have pegged Deena as a knitter. She didn’t look like the frail, sixty-year-old grandmas I’d always envisioned as the knitting type.
“So, why’d you call to ask that?”
“Um…” I said, my stomach dropping as Maeve walked into the kitchen, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter.
“I was wondering if you could make me one.” I said the first thing that popped into my head.
“What—”
“Um, a small one. Maybe gray and—and purple.”
“Kella, you feeling okay?”
“Could you do that?”
“I could but…”
“Thanks—um—I’ll talk to you about it later.”
“I—”
“Bye.”
My fingers trembled so much that I fumbled the receiver, but I managed to hang up the phone anyway.
“What was that about?” Maeve asked.
“I was just asking Deena if she could knit me a purse.”
“Knit you a purse?”
“Yeah.”
Maeve’s brows raised. “The only reason you called Deena was to ask you if she could knit you a purse.”
When she asked that way… But I wasn’t about to tell her about my connection to Caleb. I didn’t know why, but my gut said that was a very, very bad idea. “Well, no.”
Maeve smiled grimly.
“I called Deena to ask he if she could knit and then I asked her to knit me a purse.”
Maeve stared at me.
“I…see.”
“Yep. Well, I need to go upstairs and study now, so…”
Maeve narrowed her eyes but nodded.
I barely made it into my room before I collapsed on the floor, my mind reeling. The Caleb from my dreams was real. He was real.
Caleb didn’t show up in my dreams that night. I was grouchy about it, but when Mickey wasn’t at breakfast to answer my questions the following morning, I felt full-on thwarted. I’d asked Maeve where he was, but she only shook her head and told me to be careful as I left the house.
I kicked several acorns on my walk to the bus, imagining Mickey’s face on each and every one. The goober promised me he’d answer my questions, and now? I knew he had “research” to do, but that didn’t stop me from wondering if he was avoiding me.
When I boarded the bus, I saw Bridgette in the back, her face beaming. She waved at me. “Over here.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sitting next to her.
“Playing babysitter, of course. Now, little magicless one, let’s get you safely to first block before anyone attacks.”
My eyes swept around to the other two fae on the bus, neither one paying either of us much attention, thankfully. “The whole ‘no magic’ thing is kind of supposed to be a secret,” I muttered under my breath.
Bridgette’s mouth quirked up. “Nope. Not anymore. Half the school probably knows by now, and if not, they will by the end of the school day.”
Apprehension threaded through my body, making my fingers tingle.
“No one would really, you know, attack. Right?”
The smile Bridgette turned on me was not reassuring in the least. “Probably not,” she admitted. “But one can only hope.”
“What? You want me to get attacked?”
Bridgette’s smile widened just a bit. “It would break up the school day.”
“Well, I’m sure my death would definitely be a change of pace for you.”
“Why would you think you’d die?” Bridgette looked legitimately offended.
“Because rebels want to kill me?”
Bridgette shook her head. “Honestly, you can be so negative sometimes.”
“Whatever.” I dug through my backpack, making sure I had my English homework. Ms. Cochran was a beast of a teacher, and even I knew better than to tick her off.
“How many fae actually want me, you know, dead?” I asked as we headed to O’Faolain’s class. Bridgette insisted that she was going to sit in with me. I needed protection. But her? Yeah, she ruled with terror on the soccer field, but I wasn’t so sure how that skill set would help keep me alive.
Bridgette smiled. “Somewhere around half.”
I stilled. Bridgette’s smile turned to a grin. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
I swallowed. “I’m beginning to think you’ve got a serious imbalance going on.”
“Come on, we need to sit down.”
I didn’t complain when she led me to the far back corner of the room.
“Stay here.”
“Do you really think anyone would try anything at school? I mean, it’s school.”
“Kella, we’re in a school where half the student body doesn’t want you on the throne. What do you think?”
“Honestly, I don’t really want to be on the throne either.” I ignored a gasp from the girl in front of me. “I have other plans. And they involve getting out of here and back to my brother.”
“I think it’s already been established that Caleb is not your brother.”
I shook my head violently. “Not after what we’ve gone through. As far as I’m concerned, Caleb’s still the only family I’ve got.”
“You have a dad, though.”
“Yeah. A dad who abandoned me and won’t recognize me until I’m queen. Some dad.”
Bridgette shook her head, but her expression was amused. “There might be more there than you think."
I leaned back in my seat. “I doubt it. A lot.”
As we’d talked, students had continued filling in the seats. O’Faolain came in, his eyes bright, his smile bordering feral.
“Good morning, class.”
No one replied, as usual.
“Let’s start out with a very…magicless…” He turned to look directly at me. “Subject.”
A few titters followed as heat flooded my face.
“Our test next week will be on the following.” O’Faolain turned to write something on the board.
I leaned over to Bridgette. “I hate him. I really do.”
Bridgette’s smile had never completely left her face. “At least you have some sense.”
“What’s
