Page 8 of Faerie Gift

Whatever spell Persephone had sent my way, she’d been waiting for the right time to use.

I sent her another furious glare which she artfully ignored before calling everyone to gather around her for the next set.

Nora worried her hands, raindrops dripping down her glasses. “Are you going to be okay, Tavi?” she asked.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. I’ll take you inside.” Then Mike was there beside me, bending to lift me and hooking one arm beneath my knees, the other at my back. Saving me. “It’s getting late anyway. We should probably head to bed soon. I’m losing interest in this game.”

Staring up at him, I forgot about the pain at his nearness as the whole of me focused onhim. On the way he smelled. The way he smiled. How he managed to lift me without grunting and the focused set of his brows.

Ooh, he wasn’t happy.

“Oh, comeon, Mike,” Persephone whines, her hands going to her hips yet again. Despite the weather she still managed to look beautiful. Like a pissed-off water sprite, or Angry Barbie. “You’re going to miss the rest of the game and it won’t be the same without you. I’m sure Tavi can get herself inside to the nurse’s office.”

Mike glared at her. “I’m sorry if you’re bothered, but I care more about my friends than about winning a stupid game,” he said before striding toward the building.

Score one for Mike!

I missed the rest of what Persephone had to say, although I knew it was nothing good. Looping my arm around Mike’s neck to keep steady, I relished being in his arms as he walked us out of the rain and into the shelter of the rear ballroom just off the lawn.

“Thank you,” I said the moment the door closed behind us.

At our presence, a fire burst to life in the large hearth, immediately filling the room with warmth.

He shook his head and water hit my face. “It’s no big deal. You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a little sprain, I’m sure.”

Old oil portraits in gold frames lined the right side wall of the ballroom, ranging from old headmasters to faculty to alumni who had surely helped fund the school. And in the center of it all, with a gaudy highly embellished frame, was a painting of the royal family, the King and Queen of Faerie and their only child: Michael Thornwood.

Sometimes it was hard for me to picture him as a crown prince, to reconcile the face in the portrait with the boy I knew, but I could do it. Other times, like now with him holding me, it was nearly impossible to make the two realities merge into one.

The fire roared and Mike stopped in front of it, setting me down on the warmed marble floor before leaning back. “Let’s get a look at this ankle,” he said.

“I don’t know what happened.”

He flashed me a look saying we both knew better. “I’m sure it was an accident.” He didn’t sound convinced. “But I’d like to see it anyway.”

Pushing my soggy jeans to my calf, he stripped off my dirt-stained black-and-white Converse and sock, examining the area. I was too focused on him to be embarrassed at the prune-like skin, though the thought tickled the back of my mind. Too focused on him to be embarrassed that I’d neglected my toes since my last pedicure and it showed. In short, I was too focused on him to think of anything else.

Except for the way the ankle looked. The moment I glanced down I saw the wound. Yeah, anyone with working eyes would be able to see how the cartilage bulged in unnatural places. Bruises already formed around my ankle and down the side of my foot toward my toes.

I wondered again what kind of spell Persephone had sent my way and if she wouldn’t hesitate to use it again. Had she wanted me to fail so badly she risked permanent injury?

Gah, why did I bother wondering? The answer wasyes.

Mike swallowed. “It’s…not so bad.”

“Oh yeah, it’s fine, I’m sure. It’s just the size of a grapefruit,” I said with a wince as he probed the area.

When he raised his green eyes to meet mine, they were filled with concern. “You know what…I’m just throwing this out there as a suggestion, mind you, but…I could heal it for you. We don’t have to go to the nurse. A quick spell and it would be done.”

Oh,goodness.

Mike didn’t have the best track record with magic. I mean, he was good, make no mistake. Good enough to make it through to the next semester. But did I trust him to fix me?

I hadn’t been joking about him needing the extra study time. He might have been a full-blooded fae but he and structured classes didn’t mix. His magic was iffy at times. I’d seen what he did during our divination class. Or rather what hedidn’tdo. I couldn’t say I was any better at the divination but my lack came from the spell keeping my shifter side at bay. Quartz and I didn’t mix.

Mike didn’t have the same excuse.

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