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Sweet Baby Jesus, save me.
Before all hell can break loose, Zinnia threatens the kids with a flyswatter and they scatter, growling like the little monsters they are.
As my friends finish their food, I find myself chuckling under my breath. Asher lifts his delicate china mug to his mouth, the cup tiny in his huge paw. Valerian finishes off his third muffin. He’s still eating it with his fork like a psycho—but he gets a pass for now. Even Eclipsa has found something to like; Zinnia brought her an ice-cold glass of sweet tea, and the Lunar assassin took one drink and then downed the entire glass.
I can’t help but think that if these Evermore and my family can find a way to co-exist, then there’s hope for humanity yet. Now all I have to do is win the final gauntlet, expose Hellebore, find a way to keep Mack in school, nab that internship, get over Valerian Sylverfrost, and change the world.
Easy fricking peasy.
43
I thought the Spring Court Palace and royal estates were overwhelming the last time I visited. But now, with the special event broadcasted to all the courts, the entire place brims with flowers and life.
Daffodils, crocuses, and tulips line the cobblestone paths that weave through the overdone gardens and lush lawns around the estate. Amethyst and butter-yellow wildflowers grow everywhere, and jewel-toned dragonflies flash against a lapis sky so blue it appears fake.
Valerian, Asher, and Eclipsa have already left for the Keepers’ tent to register and then join the festivities. Only the shadows entering the final gauntlet, their Keepers, and royalty are allowed inside the main palace for the event.
The rest of the attending Evermore and students will arrive tomorrow to watch the gauntlet live from a special stadium. The shadow entrants’ Keepers, however, can watch the gauntlet from a special room inside.
If everything goes according to plan, Valerian and Asher will sneak Eclipsa into the palace during the gauntlet tomorrow. While everyone is distracted watching the shadows try not to die, my friends will search for the stolen soulstone and axe shard.
Either will prove Hellebore’s guilt.
As soon as I round a wall of hedges, Magus spots me and trots over. His silky red tail swishes behind him.
Large moss green eyes appraise me. “I heard you entered the gauntlet, Miss Solstice.”
“Surprised?” I ask as he begins to lead me past some sort of game being played by Spring Evermore that involves throwing sprites through hoops high in the air.
“Not in the least,” he admits. His equine ears twitch back as he smiles. “Once one gets used to you doing the opposite of what one expects, you’re entirely predictable.”
I still haven’t worked out if that’s a compliment by the time I reach the group of fourth years standing by a large wading pool shaped like a butterfly. The fourth years cut their gazes at me, not even bothering to hide their disdain.
“Thank you.” I scratch Magus behind his ears. “You’ve always been kinder than all the others. Hopefully we’ll see more of each other when I’m a third year.” “Doubtful,” he adds, although I can’t tell if he means seeing me or that I’ll actually pass the final gauntlet to be here next year. “But . . . I would like that.”
He leaves just as a Spring Court nymph begins to lead us to a servant’s entrance inside the palace.
The nymph is strikingly beautiful. A crown of daisies tangles through her long pink hair, her dress made from a collection of sunflowers, birds’ nests, and moss. She could be human, if not for the papery gold wings fluttering from her back and her violet irises, split in the middle only by a tiny humanoid slash.
I look for Mack in the group, but she must have arrived earlier. Callum nods my way. I shoot him a warm smile, refusing to let his coldness get to me.
This place has a way of turning students against one another.
The interior of the Spring Palace is everything I’d expect it to be. Open, airy, with a thousand paneless windows to let in the breeze. The weather here is always pleasant, so there’s no need to keep out the elements. The furniture is sparse but comfortable, the rooms large and filled to the brim with flowers, sunlight, and creatures—butterflies, bees, woodland animals.
But beyond the pretty veneer lies a darkness. The air is too sweet. The sunlight too bright. The flowers unnaturally fresh. The butterflies that dance in the rafters of every high ceiling are leashed on tiny strings that keep them from flying away. The squirrels are fat and sluggish from being fed sugary treats by the courtiers.
A small hob darts past us, chasing two plump gray bunnies as they hop down the lilac and gray carpet runner. Another hob pulls on the leash of a white-tailed deer, grumbling as the creature stops to nibble at the frayed edge of the rug.
“Excuse me,” a fourth year girl calls out to the nymph. “What are they doing with those cute little animals?”
The nymph blinks her strange eyes. “Here in the Spring Court, we take in all the forest’s creatures, petting and feeding them so that when the banquets and festivals come around, they’re fatted and docile, primed and ready for the slaughter.”
“Oh, God,” I whisper, horrified.
No one asks any questions after that.
As we’re paraded in front of the Spring Court courtiers, I can’t help but feel like the poor deer. Being led to my own slaughter.
