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I shiver, the name dredging up memories from school. We didn’t learn much in high school about the Fae, but my history class did cover the Lightmare. There was only one page on the terrifying Unseelie king who ruled over all Fae-kind, King Oberon. He was responsible for unleashing the catastrophic dark magic on the world during the war—before both sides decided he was too evil even for them and slaughtered him.
For both Seelie and Unseelie to turn against him, he must have been horrible.
“The Winter Prince actually trained with King Oberon?” I mutter, refusing to use his creepy nickname. “That explains so much.”
The Winter Prince stops talking and glares at us. “Something you want to add, Princess?”
“Nope.” I shake my head to emphasize my point.
“Good. Because you’re first. Get up here.”
23
Scowling at the prince, I slowly make my way through the crowd to the front of the mat where he stands. A nervous energy chokes the room. Whatever I’m going first for, it’s probably not good.
He takes a step toward me, sending my heart into a tailspin. His eyes flicker—enough that I know he can hear my rapid heartbeat—and then he leans forward and whispers, “I just need to put this on you. Okay?”
After days of his disdainful tone, the sudden gentleness of his voice is jarring. He’s so near I can smell him—balsam and cedar and the air right after fresh snowfall.
I blink. Yes, Summer. You just sniffed the Winter Prince in front of everyone.
Someone laughs.
“Yes?” he prods.
Oh, right. Answer him. I nod as my wide gaze rivets to the black vest he carries, right before he slips it over my head. Three red targets cover the vest; one in front where my heart is, one just over my liver, and the last on the back, dead center where my skull meets my spine.
When he calls Reina up next, my body becomes a live wire of adrenaline. Reina’s eyes are locked onto mine as she moves into position across from me. Eclipsa fits her with a vest. Twin fish-braids carve down either side of Reina’s head. A few dots of old blood stain the strips over her nose.
Someone came to play.
“Summer,” the Winter Prince calls, and I glance over my shoulder at him, just in time to spot the baton he tossed—hurtling end over end at my face.
On instinct, my hand flies up, and, for once, my fingers aren’t clumsy as they flex around the cold bar and I manage to catch it.
Yes!
I’m incredibly pleased with myself . . . until Eclipsa tosses a baton to Reina, who snags it without breaking eye contact with me. Inara grins behind her.
Crap.
Cold sweat crops on my temples as I take in her predatory stance—legs spread, one leg forward like she’s ready to pounce—and the lethal gleam in her dark eyes. Mack said all the other shadows have trained in mixed martial arts their entire life in preparation for the academy.
I caught her by surprise the other day. That won’t happen again.
The Winter Prince crosses his arms over his chest and sweeps a dark gaze over both of us. “The rules are simple: if Reina touches me, she wins. If Summer touches Inara, Summer wins. Your job”—he glances at Reina before letting his icy blue eyes settle on me—“is to protect your keeper. Anyone who lights up the other’s vest three times wins by default.”
Rhaegar grunts in annoyance at the Winter Prince’s implication that I’m his shadow, but my focus doesn’t deviate from Reina. The moment I look away, she’ll strike.
We circle each other. The room goes quiet, highlighting the thrum of my heart pounding in my skull. I can’t quite catch my breath. Can’t blink for fear—
One second Reina is in front of me. The next, she’s hurtling for me at lightning speed. I throw up my baton, barely blocking the end of hers from striking the target above my heart. The impact of our batons colliding splits the air and reverberates in my forearm like electricity.
I might have knocked her baton aside, but her body keeps coming. She pivots, her shoulder slamming into my chest.
My arms spin as I fly back on my ass. The mat does little to soften the blow, pain shooting up my tailbone. With me out of the way, she lunges for the prince.
Hell, no. I pop to my feet and rush her. Seconds before she reaches the prince, I slam my baton into the red target at her neck, sending her sprawling. The red light flickers, filling me with hope that I can win.
