“Well, for...” I pause. Professor Silvermoon never actually told me what I’m supposed to get—just that Aurora would have it. “I’m not sure. She didn’t say.” My eyes flick to Aurora, and she casts a gaze at Thorne.
“For this,” he says, and now that he’s spoken for the first time, I detect some hint of a lyrical accent to his tone, something not typical in Wysteria, but I don’t have a clue what it might be. He reaches into the inside pocket of his vest and pulls out a vial, then holds it up for all of us to see. Inside is a luminous substance that looks like clouds, and it drifts around the glass like it’s a living thing, searching for a way out.
Unsettled, I sit back. This makes Thorne laugh, and again, something about the sound of his voice reminds me of nature, though I have no clue why.
“What is it?” Aric asks, leaning forward to get a closer look, not the least bit deterred by the odd moving substance.
“My people have another word for it,” Thorne says, “but here, it’s known as memory mist.”
Memory mist . . .
I’ve heard of it before. It’s a rare substance, because it only naturally exists in—
Oh.
Thorne’s silver-gray eyes focus on me, and I try not to gulp.
Memory mist comes from Fairyland. Meaning Thorne is one of them—the fair folk.
I suddenly feel like I have no idea how to act or what to say.
“What does it do?” Aric asks, seemingly unaware that the man sitting across from him is a fairy, a creature so rare that most people believe they don’t even exist anymore.
Thorne tips the vial and explains, “The mist shows you glimpses of your memories and desires. Though the visions aren’t always exact mirrors of our past, they’re emotionally true, leading to a deeper understanding of self. My people use the mist as a sort of...” He waves one of his elegant hands, searching for the right word.
“Hallucinogen?” Rowan offers, one of his red brows arching in the corner.
Thorne’s lips pull up on one side. “Yes and no. It’s a more personal experience than that, but we use it as a means of self-reflection and inner exploration.”
“Can I try it?” Astra asks, reaching for the vial, but Thorne holds it up so her fingers can’t quite touch it. She puffs her cheeks out and glares at him.
“Your auntie specifically requested this,” he explains to her. Then he reaches across the table, offering the vial to me. “Use it wisely, Miss Waverly.”
I blink, still unsettled by him, then carefully reach out and take it from his hand. “Th-thank you,” I say quickly. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“I’m certain you will,” he says, his mouth tilting up in the corners.
I carefully tuck the vial into my satchel, making sure it’s secure, then glance up to find Aurora watching me with a small smile.
“Would you mind helping me bring out dessert?” she asks, standing from the table and pushing her long green braid over her shoulder. “I made an apple tart, and it’s still cooling in the kitchen.”
“Of course,” I say, grateful for something to do after the strange intensity of receiving the memory mist from a fairy.
I follow Aurora back into the warm cottage kitchen. The apple tart sits on the counter, golden and perfect, steam still rising from the sugar-dusted latticed crust.
Aurora moves to the cupboard to retrieve plates, and I glance around, not quite sure what to do with myself.
“How long have you and Selene been planning this ball?” she asks. “We never had a ball when I was at the academy.”
“Since the start of the semester,” I say. “It’s the first time I’ve helped plan something this big. It’s...” I reach up and grasp a strand of hair, rubbing it between my forefinger and thumb. “It’s a lot.”
Aurora glances over her shoulder with a smile. “I imagine it is. But Selene has always loved a good party.” She sets the plates down and begins cutting the tart into generous slices, sending the sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon swirling around the kitchen. “We’re different that way. She loves the city, lots of excitement, always something new happening. I prefer the quiet life—good food, family, a garden to tend. It’s more than enough for me.”
“I’m the same way,” I say. “And it’s beautiful here. Your home, I mean. And your family.” I glance out the kitchen window to see that Faolan and Astra are now wrestling in the autumn grass—and she’s putting up quite the fight—while the chickens scamper around, cluckingin irritation.
“Thank you.” Aurora’s expression softens. “It took time to build though. And it wasn’t always easy.” She plates a slice of apple tart, then another. “When I first left Coven Crest, I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I didn’t want what my mother expected of me: marriage to some wealthy man, a job in the city, that sort of thing. My auntie had recently passed, and she left me this place.” Aurora glances around the sunlit kitchen. “But it needed a lot of work. Harrison and I slept on this floor in front of the fire our first night here. There were even holes in the roof.” She laughs and shakes her head.
I lean against the counter. “How’d you meet them?” My gaze flicks out the window to land on Aurora’s four partners.
