Page 20 of The Cursed Fae

No peculiar sounds or smells wafted down the final stairway up to the attic floor, which I took as a positive sign that the room was empty. So I was a little surprised to find a guy swinging lazily in one of the hammocks.

“Oh, sorry. Thought it would just be me tonight,” I said and turned to leave.

“If you mean me, I'm happy to share the room.”

“Are you sure?” I turned back to face him. “I wouldn't want to bother—oh, it's you.”

Archer smiled down at me. He took a long drag on his cigarette. “You mean you don't want me to bother you.” He blew out three perfect smoke rings. “I won't. Unless you ask nicely.”

My eyes narrowed. “I guess it's too much to ask you to put that out?” I nodded toward his cigarette.

He looked at the red ember tip. “Why? You can't smell it, can you?”

I frowned. Odd. The smoke was odorless. “How's that possible?”

The guy laughed. “I'm fae. Magic has so many useful applications.”

“Right. Well, then keep ruining your lungs in peace. I'm going to go study.” Again, I started for the stairs.

“No. Wait. I'll put it out. Just stay. I'll be good, pinky-swear.” He flashed me a grin that should've sent me running because it was clear he would not let me get much work done.

Instead of leaving, I said, “Fine.”

“Well, get to work, Winter. Don't let this face distract you.”

True to his word, Archer left me alone while I completed my calculus homework. Every so often I would look up at him swinging in his hammock, eyes closed, and hands folded over his stomach. He wasn't asleep exactly. More like a meditative state that made me wonder what he'd rolled up inside that cigarette.

Once I finished with my work for the following day, I switched gears and started in on the mountain of makeup assignments. Mom and Nana rang my cell a few times to see how my day had gone. I shot them a group text to assure them I was fine, just super busy. Lena texted me, too. As much as I wanted to talk to her, I just didn't have time. I messaged back with a promise to catch her up soon.

“Mighty popular for a new girl,” Archer mused as I switched my phone to silent and returned it to the front pouch of my backpack.

“Only if multiple messages from my family count,” I said.

He rolled onto his side so his arm dangled over the hammock and pointed lazily to the book open in front of me. “Fae Origins. Riveting stuff.”

“I know you're being sarcastic, but it is pretty interesting for someone who grew up in the human world,” I replied.

Archer shrugged. “Fair enough. Who are you reading about?”

“The Aries. That's what Professor Tartan covered last week,” I said.

“Ah, right. So I guess that means you're studying the Taurus fae this week?”

“How did you know?”

He grinned. “Professor Tartan is older than dirt and just as consistent. She hasn't changed her curriculum since—well, probably since your mom went to school here.”

I stared at him curiously. “You know who my mom is?”

With an eye roll, Archer flipped over the side of the hammock and landed on his feet. He came over and sank down cross-legged beside me, our knees brushing. The oddest sensation spread across my skin beneath my jeans and sweater. It was icy hot and unusual, but not unpleasant. And definitely not something I'd felt before.

“You're a Sable. Everyone in your family has gone here,” he said, as though stating the obvious.

“You're Gemini, I suppose?”

“My dad is. Mom's not fae,” Archer replied, a note of bitterness tinging his voice.

Was Archer embarrassed his mom was human?

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