Chapter 17
PANDORA’S DIARY
One gift for me
Had I spent my entire adult life hoping for a gift? No. Had I desperately tried to “manifest” one? No. But every single faerie-kin in my life never shut up about it, so I knew they all described getting their gift differently.
Dad had felt himself unfurling like a bud while Mom felt like she’d shifted into a high-gear version of herself.
Which was hard to imagine, considering the normal version of her was pretty intense.
Deja had dreamed she was a moth, analyzing the faintest traces of scents with her antennae, while Shrig spoke in tongues for three days straight without sleeping.
Leo, of course, had collapsed in the National Archives.
“Leo,” I murmured. “Leo?”
“Oh, thank the Dames,” he said, and held me tighter.
I melted into him—then I collapsed.