The Faerie Prince

Chapter Two

It takes several minutes, but eventually I'm kneeling on the floor pushing the last book back into its place on the lowest shelf. I'm about to stand when a snort of laughter disturbs the quiet. I tilt A Collection of Magical Water Creatures forward and peek through a gap between two books on the other side of the shelf. Dale and Rush, two fellow fifth years, are sitting on the floor reading a piece of paper that, for some reason, has the ability to send them into hysterics. Or it could be a blank page coupled with the effects of some kind of giggling potion. Dale is enough of an idiot to sample just about anything in a bottle, and Rush isn't far behind him.

A book slides into the gap and blocks my view. "What's going on? You guys been sampling Aria's happy cookies again?"

And that would be Ryn. My ex-friend, ex-enemy, current 'sort of friend.' Although, that last part hasn't exactly been working out so well. A few days after we narrowly escaped Zell's dungeon, Ryn brought his little sister Calla over so she could give me a thank-you-for-saving-me-from-the-bad-faerie letter she'd written herself. That was followed by some awkward conversation—probably due to the fact that Ryn was trying to be nice, a skill he has yet to master—after which they left. Two weeks later and, other than the glare I received when I tried to speak to him during training, we've had no further contact.

I'm still trying to figure out whether I should be disappointed or relieved.

"The third years have been copying us," Rush says. There's a rustle of paper. "See? Guys have started writing hot lists and passing them around. And look who's at the top of this one."

"Does that say Tora?" Ryn asks.

"Yes!" Dale says with a hoot.

Tora? My mentor? I swallow, feeling more than a little grossed out.

"So what?" Ryn says. "She's kind of hot."

"But she's a mentor," Dale says. "She's probably, like, four hundred years old. It's creepy."

Creepy, yes. Four hundred years old? Not even close.

I'm about to head back to my desk when Rush says, "Well, my hot list is in definite need of an update. Did you see Violet last time she was in the Fish Bowl? Man, she has definitely moved into slot number one on my list."

Eww! Okay, I am now officially grossed out.

"Of course I saw her," Dale says, all trace of laughter now gone from his voice. He was the one inside the Fish Bowl with me—and I greatly enjoyed kicking his butt.

Rush laughs. "Oh, yeah, I remember. I guess you can't see past your bruised ego to her super hotness, can you?"

As much as their conversation disgusts me, I have to admit there's a teeny, tiny part of me that's flattered to be included on someone's hot list. If only it wasn't Rush. I lean back against the shelf, wondering if Nate thinks I'm super hot—or if he thinks of me at all.

"What about you, Ryn?" Rush asks.

I feel the shelf move slightly against my back as Ryn says, "You know I don't give a goblin's fuzzy ass about your hot lists."

"Yeah, didn't you know, Rush?" Dale says. "No one here is good enough for Ryn."

"Exactly," Ryn says. "Why settle for a giggling girl when you can have a real woman?"

"Ha! A real woman?" Rush says. "Is that what you call the crazy Underground beings you hang out with at Poisyn?"

Okay, now I definitely don't need to hear any more. I push myself up.

"I thought I should remind you two that you haven't handed your assignments in yet," Ryn says to his friends.

Crap, I haven't handed mine in either. I give Dale and Rush a few seconds to get up and out of their row before I hurry forward—and come face-to-face with Ryn.