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I lie.
The instant I’m over, I’m on my hands and knees, hyperventilating until I feel frostbitten.
The guide distracted me again afterward, keeping me engaged with words instead of my racing heart as I walked through the woods. The exhibition program involves classes leading up to a few celebrations, more classes, and a tournament at the end of winter. Both House of Embers and House of Shadows run combat skills, weapons techniques, and offensive strategies. Tactical warfare is a specialty of the House of Stone. The House of Moonlight teaches monstrous tactics and vulnerabilities. House of Shadows oversees combat, and stealthand infiltration. I scoff. Of course, they’d know all about being sneaky, wouldn’t they? Magical defenseseems to be about using charmed stones to counter enemy magic. Everyone pitches in for medical training.
This exhibition is a front for conscription—to train mortals as grateful fodder. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The Good Folk are cowards. They have strict rules against gossiping, are obsessed with perfect appearances, and consider bad manners unacceptable.
As I near the main campus, Peablossom darts out from the shadows of a tree. Her dress is as luxurious as it was when we first met. Hundreds of gemstones and raw crystals twinkle on chains wrapped around her torso. Combined with her blue hair in a twist, she reminds me of a whirlwind.
“You’re late!” she hisses, then shakes her head and smiles broadly. Her next words are joyously forced out through chattering teeth. “My sweet shadow cherub, you’re the sole sponsored contender who missed orientation.”
Who is she kidding with the false pleasantry? “I thought your job here was done.”
“Indeed, it was... until the pandemonium you so graciously instigated during the pageant. Now, I find myself tasked with supervising the entirety of the exhibition.”
“I didn’t instigate anything. They chose me.” Or rather, Baby Hunt did.
“Yes, well.” Her lips purse, and she exhales. “Behold your schedule. You are most graciously welcome. I collected it for you.”
“Thank you.”
She hands me the weekly outline. As I scan it, her finger hooks on my cape. Her lips part as the front opens. “You’re bedecked in Lord Fox’s finery. The bold embroidered appliqué is unmistakably his.”
“He shouldn’t have left his clothes lying about,” I grumble, reading.
“Cunning little mortal,” she exclaims, delivering a playful swat to my shoulder. “You will, naturally, incur a uniform violation. But I suppose you knew the code amendments stipulate that a Shadow’s discipline is in the hands of their Radiant. Rumor has it Lord Fox excels at... how shall I phrase this delicately... beguiling remorse from those who’ve erred.”
“Yes.” I deadpan. “That’s exactly why I did this.”
“I must say I am rather offended on your behalf that he’s yet to rectify your countenance.” She pouts and rearranges my hair, drawing strands to shroud my jawline further. “We all know your circumstances can be avoided with a quick sleight of hand.”
I lower the pamphlet. “You mean like how your glamour hid my... flaws?”
Her lips purse again. “We really shouldn’t discuss such matters openly, my dear. The ravens are ever attentive. But, I admit, we may never find a moment like this again, so here goes. Your mentors can rectify your appearance permanently. No illusions are required. Then you’ll not be”—her nose twitches with disgust—“one of the Nightmares.”
The paper crumples in my fist. Everywhere I go, people point out my face.
“Why did you lie on my behalf?” she asks quietly, fixing the other side of my hair.
“Because it’s none of their business.”
Her dainty arms drop to her sides. “Overseeing exhibitors is a gift compared to Puck’s attention.”
“What would he have done if he found out you helped me?”
“Choose your poison.” She fidgets, and her voice turns shaky. “I could be stripped of charms or glamour, brow erasure, dream deprivation, turned into a statue of contemplation, banishment.”
“For glamouring me?”
“For aiding and abetting the enemy.”
Her words stab my heart. Geraldine and her friends are targets.
“Why are Nothings encouraged to enter the exhibition?”
She looks at me as though I’m daft. “You strike me as a clever cricket, Willow. I thought you read the Old Code?”
“Not all of it,” I lie. I’ve read none.
