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“You can’t hide here forever.”
“Watch me.” I glance out our little window. Darkness fell an hour ago, the snow a slow drizzle. By now I can tell the difference between the dirty gray half-light that means it’s daytime, and the full, foreboding darkness of night.
Lights flicker in the distance. There’s a bonfire near the lake of sorrows that rages Friday and Saturday for the festival, and twinkly lights are strung through the evergreens and oaks. Through the frosty windowpane trickle sounds of celebration.
Of fun. Whatever the hell that is. I’ve literally forgotten.
Laughter draws my attention to the open door. A group of human girls pass in the hallway carrying streamers of green and gold—Summer Court colors. Usually on the weekends the campus and dorm clear out, but everyone is here for Samhain.
Mack lifts up on her tiptoes, a thing she does when she’s excited. “We’re going out tonight. You should come.”
“It’s not the bonfire, is it?” I ask warily. “Because the answer is a hard no.”
I’m not in the mood to be stared at and whispered about. Everyone knows about the Nocturus tomorrow, and I’m suddenly back in the spotlight.
“Ick, no.” Mack makes a face. “Only first years and dweebs go to school sanctioned functions.” I refrain from adding that we are first years. “All the cool students go to the Ice District in Everbrite. They usually only let fourth years shadows in . . . but Rhaegar told Basil we could come.”
“What’s the Ice District?” I ask as Evelyn flings open the closet door and starts rummaging around Mack’s clothes.
“The row of bars along Pixie Street in Everbrite? You’ve never heard of that?” Evelyn glances over her shoulder as I shake my head. “It’s famous . . . and basically the coolest place in Everwilde. The who’s who of Fae are spotted there all the time.”
“Why’s it called the Ice District?”
Mack finishes zipping herself into a skintight red dress that highlights her tawny complexion and hourglass figure. “The bars are all owned by the Winter King.”
“Count me out.” They try to change my mind, but I refuse to leave my bed. The idea of visiting a club owned by the Winter Prince’s family makes me physically ill.
“Suit yourself.” Mack leans down and tweaks my ear. “But, for Fae’s sake, get your head out of that book and do something. It’s Friday night. Walk the grounds. Watch a movie in the commons with the other first years. Make out with some nameless—but hot—fourth year boy toy. But you need to leave this room.”
I cringe. If Mack, the most studious girl in our academy, is telling me to get out and do something, I probably should.
But the only thing I want to do is find something, anything, that will help Rhaegar win me tomorrow for good. I’ve downed five cups of water from a metal tumbler, I casually start to ask questions, hoping to distract her from our torture session. “So . . . what’s the deal between Rhaegar and the Winter Prince?”
She’s in the middle of some ridiculous yoga pose, and she slowly untwists her lithe body and meets my eyes. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”
“Kind of hard to miss. I feel like a tennis ball being smacked back and forth.”
“A what?”
“Never mind. So . . . they have history?”
She switches to a one-legged pose, her arms unfurling above her head as her eyes shut. “They both loved the same girl.”
Drawing my knee up to stand on one leg, I try to emulate her pose and nearly fall over for my effort.
“That sounds . . . tragic,” I tease, righting myself. But then I see her face and wish I hadn’t joked.
Her lips are pressed tightly together, her eyes dark with emotion. She slides a careful look over to me. “It was, actually. She died.” She grabs a towel and tosses it at me. “We’re done for the day.”
Thank the Shimmer. Sopping the sweat from my tired body, I grab my clothes and limp for the locker room. A hot shower and change of clothes later, I at least don’t feel like roadkill.
On my way out, Eclipsa pulls me aside. “Word of advice? Don’t ever mention what I just told you. It will be a miracle if we can keep Rhaegar and the prince from starting another war.”
“The mother of all surprises,” I grumble.
Eclipsa laughs, a real laugh that shakes her entire body, and I’m suddenly thankful I can speak my mind around her without fear of reprisal.
“You and the prince seem . . . close,” I begin, struggling with how to phrase my words.
