"A presentation opportunity. A chance to show them your stress adaptation research and discuss potential collaboration."
"Where?"
"The Vine Court Academy. It's a research symposium where human scholars present their work to Fae specialists in related fields."
The Vine Court. Even I know that name—the Fae court associated with fertility magic and agricultural abundance. Ifeven half the stories are true, their magical enhancement of plant reproduction is beyond anything human science has achieved.
"When?"
"Next week. All expenses paid, full academic honors, presentation before some of the most knowledgeable fertility magic researchers in existence."
I turn to look out the window at the darkened campus. Out there, Sarah's reception is probably winding down, colleagues congratulating her on another prestigious publication while my own work disappears into academic obscurity. In my lab, surrounded by equipment held together with tape and hope, I study phenomena that could feed millions if anyone bothered to pay attention.
The smart choice is to say no. To stay safe in my cramped lab, publishing in journals no one reads, watching Sarah collect accolades while I remain invisible. The smart choice is to remember that Fae recruitment often ends with women disappearing forever into magical bonds they never chose.
But I'm so tired of being invisible. So tired of watching inferior research get celebrated while my innovations are ignored. So tired of being "Sarah's little sister" instead of Dr. Maya Nakamura, whose work deserves recognition.
"What's the presentation topic?" I hear myself ask.
Sarah's smile is triumphant. "Stress adaptation mechanisms in plant reproduction. Specifically how environmental pressure triggers enhanced fertility responses."
My research. The work I've spent years developing, the discoveries I've made about how plants reproduce more successfully under certain types of stress. Research that could revolutionize everything from crop yields to reforestation efforts.
"They specifically requested your work," Sarah continues. "By name. Maya, they know who you are. They want to hear what you have to say."
For the first time in years, someone wants to hear what I have to say. Not Sarah's little sister. Not the girl who got into graduate school on family connections. Me. My research. My discoveries.
"I need to think about it," I say.
"Of course." Sarah stands, smoothing down her dress. "But Maya? Don't think too long. Opportunities like this don't come around often."
She heads toward the door, then pauses with her hand on the handle. "You deserve to be recognized for your brilliance. You deserve to have your work matter. Don't let fear stop you from finally getting what you've always wanted."
The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with my microscope and the scent of her expensive perfume. I turn back to my samples, but the pollen grains blur as tears prick at my eyes.
Recognition. Funding. The chance to work with beings whose magical understanding of fertility could advance my research by centuries. Everything I've dreamed about, offered by people who know my name and want my specific expertise.
Or everything I've feared, wrapped in pretty promises designed to lure another naive researcher into disappearing forever.
I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, weighing the choice Sarah has laid before me. Stay safe and invisible, or risk everything for the recognition I've craved my entire life.
The smart choice is obvious.
But I've never been accused of being smart when it comes to taking chances. And God help me, I want to matter. I want someone, somewhere, to value what I have to offer.
Even if that someone isn't human.
I pull out a piece of laboratory stationary and start writing a note to Sarah:Tell them I'm interested.
Then I crumple it up and toss it in the waste basket. Tomorrow I can make that choice. Tonight, I want to pretend for a few more hours that I'm strong enough to walk away from the first real opportunity I've ever been offered.
But we both know I'm not.
I've spent my entire life being expendable. Tomorrow, I'm going to find out what it feels like to be wanted.
Even if it kills me.
CHAPTER 2
