Page 18 of Cruelly Fated
ALLIE
Ahostilebzzzzt!jolted me from sleep. I slapped my hand around the nightstand, blindly, until my fingers collided with wood and nothing—gods-damn it, where was the blasted thing? Someone had moved the world’s loudest alarm clock again.
Oh. Right. That someone would be me.
Muzzily, I pushed up on my elbows, hair a tangled halo around my face, and finally caught sight of theoffending beast tucked behind the lamp. I swatted it off with a groan, silencing the noise. A thick breath whooshed from my chest as I flopped back onto the mattress, every muscle reluctant to move.
Sleep hadn’t come easily lately—not since Grandpa was dragged away in cuffs and my world upended itself in a slow, aching implosion. Night after night, I’d lie awake, eyes locked on the ceiling fan’s slow rotations, chasing sleep like it was some elusive fae creature. And then, when it finally came, it never wanted to let go.
Hence, the old trick. Mom’s trick. Move the clock to force your body into motion when your soul isn’t ready to face the day. It worked. Barely.
My job was all that paid our bills since Mom’s death, and now with no savings left, I had no safety net. I had to show up to work, even when that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I sat up with a hiss as my spine cracked and hopped to my feet, toes sinking into the worn chenille rug. Cold air wrapped around my legs as I shuffled across the room. I grabbed my phone, thumbed on music—something fast and defiant—and let the beat shake the cobwebs loose.
With exaggerated flair, I danced into the kitchen, flicked on the ancient coffeemaker, and spun around to the bathroom in a messy rhythm. I didn’t bother closing the door—what was the point when you lived alone?
Steam curled around me as I stepped out of the shower minutes later, towel twisted into a turban atop my head. Fog coveredthe mirror and a constant chill radiated from the floor. The air smelled faintly like stale coffee and…hope.
I padded barefoot into Mom’s bedroom, where her old makeup drawers still stood like a shrine untouched by time. Her perfume clung faintly to the wood, evoking a bittersweet ache behind my ribs. I rummaged through the lipsticks and shadow palettes.
Patrons tipped better when I painted my face and wore that brighter version of myself like armor. The kind that smiled, flirted, and didn’t let anyone see the cracks. I needed every coin, every whisper of luck. Repairs had to be done before we listed the house. And fae gods help me, I couldn’t afford another thing falling apart.
Not when everything else already had.
The music dulled mid-beat, and a jarring ringtone cut through the quiet. A default tune—the caller was no one I knew. A chill prickled my neck.
I darted back to the kitchen, bare feet slapping the cold tile. An Avari area code blinked on the screen. Could be spam. The fourth ring buzzed against my fingertips, and curiosity shoved hesitation out of the way.
I swiped green.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon. Ms. Marsh?” the clipped voice on the line asked.
“This is she.”
“I’m calling from AIA regarding your interview.”
My heart launched into a sprint.Oh gods. Did I mess up the date? Was it today?
“Yes…?” The word barely found its way past the tightness in my throat.
“It’s been canceled.”
“Oh…” I licked my lips, voice cracking. “Has it been rescheduled?”
“No, Ms. Marsh.” She sounded annoyed. “Your application was formally withdrawn by the dean’s office. You are no longer being considered for admission to the Avari Institute of Art. Goodbye—”
“Wait!” I leaned against a wall, afraid my legs would give out any minute now. “Why? Please, tell me why. Maybe I can do something, like submit a new portfolio?”
A sigh ghosted down the line, followed by the rustle of a folder opening. Pages flipped.
“You have a close relative recently convicted of a crime.”
My throat closed. “Yes,” I whispered. “My grandfather.”
“AIA holds itself to the highest standards, Ms. Marsh. Academic, artistic, and societal. We already overlooked your low fae status. But this is beyond what we can permit. A family history like that tarnishes the institution’s legacy. I’m sure you understand. Good day.”
