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The turmoil and uncertainty in his voice pierces my heart. There could hardly be two parents who loved their daughter more.
I shrug. “All I know is you did the best you could.”
He nods, as if reassuring himself of this. “She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
After that, a pit of unease lodges squarely in my sternum. And it doesn’t go away. Not even after we say goodbye to our families—Nick and Sebastian promising to escort my family straight to the mortal guest houses behind the quad—and then rush to the nearest bar, Richard, Layla, and Jace in tow.
Eclipsa joins us in line, oblivious how the other mortal students scatter. She took my advice to heart and wears a metallic silver mini-dress that could be painted on. Actually, I think it might be paint.
Annoyed at the line, the Lunar assassin cuts to the front, demanding shots. After a few select words with the deer shifter bartending, she waves us over.
“These are my friends. Make them happy. Got it?”
I watch her jaunt away with the tray of shots, not spilling a single drop.
“You okay?” I ask Mack as we wait for the deer shifter to make our lilac shandies.
“Of course.” She throws an indignant look over my shoulder at Reina and her friends. “Everyone knows Reina pays for her grades.”
“So everything’s good?” I persist.
“Yes, Mom.” She rolls her eyes. “It will be after you get stupid drunk and dance with me.”
The deer shifter hands us our cocktails. Desperate for alcohol, Mack goes to grab mine, but the shifter shakes his head, his large umber eyes darting to me. “This is for her.”
I take my fizzy drink, wondering if I should be flattered or weirded out by his creepy stare.
“Someone’s not getting a tip,” Mack mutters as we cross the lawn toward the center of the courtyard, where students are gathering. The tables have been moved, the soft glow of the pink and green lanterns strung high above illuminating the pockets of people already dancing.
Halfway across the lawn, I nearly run into the Winter Court entourage. Magus is escorting them to their quarters, which I’m willing to bet are more luxurious than where Zinnia, Vi, and Jane are staying.
Despite the pleasant spring air, the Winter King wears a fur-lined cloak of navy blue velvet. The grass where he’s walked is frozen, a trailing path of glittery white.
Before I can remember that he probably hates me—and that I should probably hide—his gaze shifts to our little group.
And fixes on me.
Something reaches through his cold demeanor, a curiosity, and then he nods to my drink as he holds his up.
“Is he . . . toasting you?” Mack whispers.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Crap, he’s definitely toasting me.
I thrust my drink into the air, sending the fizzy lavender liquid sloshing over the side.
When the king takes a sip of his, Mack pokes my ribs. “Drink. You’re supposed to drink.”
I rush the glass to my lips, the bubbly lilac cocktail tingling all the way down my throat.
Without a word, he dismisses me and continues toward his quarters, the ice crackling in his wake.
What the frick was that?
Before I can ask Mack if what just happened was normal, she drags me into the middle of a group of first and second year shadows. A band famous in the Everwilde called the Deranged Nymphs is on the center stage, the mixture of instruments and beats whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
Eclipsa appears with her tray of shots, somehow still not a drop spilled. She offers me one.
