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“I don’t know. Perhaps a gorgeous Seelie in the Summer Court?” My expression must show my outrage because she adds, “Rhaegar is incredibly influential, when he wants to be. He may not have Inara’s gift with persuasion but he’s not beneath glamouring, despite the new rules.”
“How is persuasion different?” I ask, curiosity making me forget I’m angry. I assumed the day Inara tricked me that she’d used a glamour.
Eclipsa blows a few errant silver hairs from her face. “Besides being incredibly powerful? It’s different than glamouring in that she can control Fae too.”
“How does it work?” I ask.
“She can put things in your mind. Can make you think you want something, or see something. Her brother has a similar gift, but he’s honed his gift differently. His favorite ruse is changing his face so you see someone else when you look at him. Oberon knows how many Fae females he’s tricked into sleeping with him that way.”
Bane? I’d almost forgotten about her twin brother. Compared to Inara’s love of the spotlight, he seemed content creeping in the shadows. “That’s . . . that’s horrible.”
She shrugs, her expression darkening. “How do you think Inara’s been able to control the prince? Keep him coming back to her again and again?”
I swallow, the memory of that night I was inside his head floating to the surface. Then there was his tense struggle in the classroom that day when Inara tried to service him.
Ugh. If what Eclipsa says is true, that’s basically sexual harassment, if not rape.
His conflicting emotions toward her suddenly make a bit more sense.
“Look,” I say, holding out my red Everlast boxing gloves for her to unstrap. “I’m just tired of having no control over my life.”
She nods as she slips off my gloves. “I get it, I do. But control doesn’t always mean safety. I’m sure that poor shadow had no idea she’d wake up in a few hours to an escaped basilisk. Now”—she points to the adjacent black mat near a wall covered in mirrors—“Less talking, more stretching.”
I follow her lead to the smaller mat, contorting my body into the Lord of the Dance pose. The concentration needed to keep from falling on my face is almost enough to still my mind. Almost.
But the images of my next-door bedmate turned to stone, her mouth spasmed wide with fear, won’t leave. After a few more poses, I break the silence with a question. “What if her death wasn’t an accident?”
Eclipsa unfolds her graceful body, canting her head so that her silver braided ponytail falls over one dark eye. “What do you mean?”
I give a detailed account of my dream, how the basilisk seemed interested in me, at first. Plus I mention the selkie that wasn’t drugged at the Selection, in case they’re somehow related. “Both incidents led to someone around me dying,” I point out, half in realization. “And the orc.” I tuck an errant strand of sweat-damp hair behind my ear. “That can’t be a coincidence, right? What if, in both instances, I was meant to die, but something protected me?”
My fingers itch to stroke the pendant hidden between my breasts, but I busy my hands retying the silver band around my braid instead.
Eclipsa isn’t the only one who’s allowed secrets.
She doesn’t say much, but her demeanor changes after that. Her gaze sweeps the gym, body rigid and alert. And when I shower, she stands guard near the gross plastic curtain instead of washing off.
After I change and towel dry my hair, she takes me aside. “Go pack your bags.”
My heart freefalls into my stomach. This is it. I’m being expelled. Maybe the deaths are my fault for some reason. Maybe Eclipsa knows about my pendant and that’s somehow attracting the creatures. Whatever it is, I feel sick. o;I’m glad he didn’t die, but someone as proud as Rhaegar shouldn’t have to ask the Winter Prince for mercy.” I shiver, remembering the awful events. “And then the thing with the basilisk.”
Evelyn pops into the room and says cheerfully, “I heard they took Sky Sutton in for questioning today.” She waggles her red eyebrows. “Apparently Sky and the dead girl had a fight right before they went to bed, and they think Sky released the basilisk. Professor Balefire is on suspension until they can figure out the whole mess.”
“Where do you get all this information?” Mack asks. “They don’t tell first years anything.”
She shrugs, a cryptic smile lighting up her face. “I have my sources.”
“Do you know how Rhaegar is doing?” I blurt, hope tinging my voice.
“What? Of course not.” She pops to her feet, brushing sour patch sugar from her dark pants. “Shouldn’t you guys be in combat uniform? Class starts soon.”
“What got up her butt?” Mack grumbles as we dress for combat class in silence. I roll my eyes. With Evelyn, there’s no telling. Before we leave, Mack shoves the remaining junk food in a safe and locks it.
While she resets the password, I fix Ruby with a stern glare. “Ruby, this is Mack’s food. Mack’s. Not mine.”
It’s important to establish that last part; Ruby swears there’s a Fae law that makes anything mine also hers by right, since she’s technically on loan from the academy to me as a slave.
Ick. Another reason to despise the Fae way of doing things.
