Autorentext

Melissa de la Cruz is the #1 New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Los Angeles Times, and Publishers Weekly internationally bestselling author of many critically acclaimed books for readers of all ages, including the Blue Bloods series, the Queen's Secret duet, Disney's Descendants novels, and the Summer on East End series. Her books have sold over eight million copies, and the Witches of East End series became an hour-long television drama on the Lifetime network.

Klappentext

**A Good Morning America YA Book Club Pick

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Three teens infiltrate the magical ivy league in the first book of a heart-stopping dark academia romantasy series from #1 New York Times bestselling author Melissa de la Cruz.**

The special first edition of the hardcover features stunning stenciled edges and designed endpapers!

Raven, Atticus, and Dorian have dreamed of attending Sibylline for as long as they can remember. But when the magical university rejects them, the friends’ plans for a future studying the arcane together begin crashing down.

Until they decide to steal an education.

Getting jobs on campus, they sneak into lectures and swipe forbidden texts, dodging the administration’s watchful eye. In the quiet of night, in the thrill of secrecy, their magic awakens. And so do long-buried attractions that turn their friendship into something more.

But like magic, love can create, and it can destroy. As unrequited feelings and resentment threaten to fracture their bond, the trio discovers an insidious magic that has sunk its claws into Sibylline, killing students and corroding the very bones of the university. Now the three intruders may be the key to saving the institution from wreckage . . . if they don’t wreck one another first.

Leseprobe
*Miss Raven Chen,
*
*Thank you for your application to Sibylline College of Magical Arts. Unfortunately—
*
Unfortunately.

One word.

It crushes my dream as easily as shattering glass.

I look up at Dorian and Atticus. They’re both stock-still, staring at their letters. Dorian’s face is white. Atticus blinks a few times, then finally he says, “Oh.”

I don’t have to be a psychic like Atticus to know what happened.

Atticus gently refolds the letter and slides it neatly back in the envelope, his mouth set into a grim line. Dorian crumples his up and throws it in the nearest trash can with a huff.

My knees give out, and I collapse back down on the bench.

I check and recheck the letter, hoping the words are different, that maybe my mind misread it. But no, it’s real. I didn’t get in. I won’t be attending Sibylline. I won’t achieve my dream. I might as well die. Right here and now. I don’t even want to think about what I did wrong. I performed well on the written exams, scoring high marks in history and lore, and in the interview, I displayed my talents, transcribing in real time the text the assessor offered to me, a piece apparently written by an eighteenth-century monk in his own private dialect. I’d done well, but it hadn’t mattered.

I want to leap off the pier or tear the letter into a thousand little pieces. I need to scream, but I choke down the urge. How can I not be good enough? Me? I worked so hard for this! How many sleep­less nights did I spend studying for the MSAT, the arcane college admissions test? Was being the president of Manhattan’s Youth Magicians Club not enough? What about my national award for excellence in sorcery? Did none of it even matter? My application was perfect, perfect.

The disappointment is numbing.

Atticus clicks his tongue. “Maybe it’s for the better. It’s just a school for a bunch of magic snobs and elitist wizards and rich enchanters. So what’s even the point?”

“An education,” says Dorian dryly, masking his hurt with humor. “And I think you need all the help you can get.”

Atticus lets out a laugh. Dorian smiles back. That’s what comes with being friends. Best friends. All of us. No matter what, we’re together. We’d planned on attending Sibylline—so now what?Will we have to separate? My mouth feels dry at the thought.

“Well, there goes my one chance,” says Atticus.

“You didn’t apply anywhere else?” Dorian asks.

“It was either Sibylline or nothing,” he says.

“Me too,” I say, and Dorian nods. We all did the same.

I won’t let this happen to us. I refuse. I can’t give up. Not now, not ever. “What if we don’t take no for an answer?”

Dorian’s eyebrows rise, and he looks at me, as if trying to read my expression.

“What are you saying? Reject their rejection? We can’t make them accept us,” Atticus says. “Can we?”

I picture Sibylline’s students on their first day of class: groups of eager young magicians walking the cobblestone streets, study­ing in the grand halls, and learning all that is worth knowing from masters of the craft. Everything that matters is there, nestled in the ivy-covered arches and the ancient tomes. I’d give anything to be there, at the center of it all. I’d do anything, any job . . .

It’s then that an idea starts to form.