Legendborn (Legendborn, #1)

by Tracy Deonn

“Briana Irene Matthews!” I freeze, then pivot slowly to look for the sort of asshole who calls out someone’s full name in public to get their attention. Leaning against the wall just beside the exit is a tall white boy with tousled straw-blond hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. He looks like he belongs on the cover of the university brochure: impossibly bright and cheery, wearing plain jeans and a Carolina blue zipped hoodie. When he laughs, the sound is

He smiles, shoves off the wall with one foot, and strolls toward me. “You’re hard to pin down.” He looks up briefly, as if considering. Eyes back on me. “And rude, too, leaving me on read all day.” My eyes fall shut as I mutter, “You’re the babysitter.” “Does that mean you’re a baby?” My eyes snap open to find Nick Davis standing right in front of me, eyes twinkling with barely contained mirth. He is at least four inches taller than me, which is saying something, even though as a second-year EC he’s probably only a year

older than I am. Definitely not built like any seventeen-year-olds I know. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he looks like one of those Olympic gymnasts. I turn on my heel to leave. This boy is not part of the plan. Not the beginning, middle, or anywhere in between. “Briana, wait up!” Nick jogs to follow. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.” “It’s Bree, and no thanks.” When he catches up, his fresh-laundry-and-cedar scent comes with him. Of course he smells good. “Bree, short for Briana.” His dimple-edged smile is probably on a poster at a dentist’s office somewhere.

He holds up a hand before I protest. “Not personal information typically shared with students, but the EC consent forms we all signed waive that right between mentors, orientation assistants, and other assigned guides. I found out when your last class ended.

Ocean eyes set in a tanned face take me in, and a knowing smile sends a wave of warmth to my

ears. “Timed it perfectly too. You walked out five minutes after I arrived.” “Being clever and being creepy are not mutually exclusive.”

“Oh, I agree.” He scratches at his chin. “There’s probably a Venn Diagram or a graph of direct propor...

I groan. “This is, by definition, using your intelligence for evil.” Nick tilts his head. “Correct. On two levels, in fact.” He raises a finger. “Using one’s cleverness to creep and”—a second finger—“using one’s clever...

“So, Dean McKinnon said you enrolled with a friend?” This boy is intuitive. Unnervingly so. “Alice. She’s always wanted to come here.” He eyes me. “And you didn’t?” I blink, unsure how to respond, and he takes my silence as an answer. “Then why did you come?” “I’m a smarty-pants.” His scan of my face is quick, appraising. “Obviously,” he murmurs, “but

“Dean McKinnon asked me to talk to you about your student activity requirement since some campus groups begin recruiting members the first week of school. See any you like?” I’d completely forgotten about that part of the program.

Nick spots the look on my face and hides a smirk behind his palm. “Do you even know what a student group

is?” “I can guess,” I growl. “Clubs. Professional degree orgs for pre-med kids or pre-law kids. I dunno…...

“Mostly right,” he says, “except EC kids can’t join frats or sororities. Minors in environments notorious for partying and drinking? That’s a no-go. What parent would send their precious underage baby to UNC if they thought we were studying organic chem during the day and doing keg stands at night?” “Well, which one did yo...

We lock eyes, brown to blue, and something unexpected passes between us. A tug of friendship, a dropper full of humor.

Old East appears ahead of us, beige-yellow brick and unremarkable identical windows running in rows down its sides. You’d never guess it had been standing for almost two hundred and thirty years—the oldest state university building in the country.

Contempt and jealousy intertwine and slice through my stomach like jagged claws. I want to aim them at this Nick so that he can feel what I think of his wasted luxury: a parent who’s still alive for reconciliation. I turn to him, the words on my tongue, when I catch a flash of unearthly light in the distance, just over his shoulder. Selwyn’s magic had been smoke and swirling silver. These flames, pulsing in the sky above the trees, burn a rotting neon green. “Oh my God…,” I whisper, my heart suddenly racing. “What?” Nick asks. I’m running past him before any other thoughts fully form.

This time of day on a college campus makes a straight path impossible. Strolling students, sitting couples, and a Frisbee game send me zigzagging. Last night I ran away from magic. Tonight, I have to run toward it. For my mom, for my dad, for me. I have to know the truth. I have to know if not getting a chance to talk to her again was my fault, or if— I round a hedge, and the world drops out from underneath me.

Crouched between two science buildings is something I’d never imagined could exist.

The creature is outlined in thin green light. Its body flickers, gaining density, then thinning, then gaining it again. It could be a wolf except that it stands twice as tall and instead of fur it has a semitranslucent layer of stretched an...