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Mack helps me up to a sitting position.
I wince, tears of pain and humiliation stinging my eyes. “Everything hurts and I’m dying.”
She snorts. “You might wish you were dead right now; I saw Bane filming the entire thing.”
“Wonderful.” I’m scared to even touch my face and assess the damage. “How bad is it?”
Mack snags her bottom lip between her teeth. “Imagine if a psychopath took a metal baton and smacked you in the face repeatedly. You look like that.”
I groan as throbbing fire prods my brain. How many times did she hit me? Gathering all my courage, I run my fingers over my face and head. The examination reveals two lumps on my left side, a swollen lip, and a bloodied eyebrow the size of a golf ball.
Eclipsa bounds over to me, an infirmary kit in her hands. “You lasted way longer than I thought you would.”
I pull the towel away from my lip, frowning at the blood. “Thanks. I think.”
As Eclipsa procures a butterfly bandage for my eyebrow, Mack stares in awe at the Unseelie assassin. But I’m too tired and beaten up to care that one of the Six is talking to me.
“She was . . . fast,” I mutter. “Freakishly fast.”
Eclipsa glances at Asher as he strides over carrying a bucket of water and rags. Mack looks like she might pass out at the sight of another of the Six, but she collects herself enough to gape idiotically at them.
Asher clicks his tongue as he drops to one knee beside us, his bulky body taking up a ton of space. “Prince should have called it. Reina was definitely using a speed spell.”
“She cheated?” Mack demands, forgetting her awe over their presence. In her world, cheating is the worst sin possible.
Asher is bent over, flashing a beam of light into my eyes. He glances up through a curtain of dark hair to appraise Mack.
For a moment, his gaze lingers, and I swear sparks alight in his exotic green eyes.
Whoa. Dragon boy definitely checked her out. finishes readjusting her high ponytail; half her hair is too short to reach and it falls to her shoulders. “He may seem like a jerkoff, but when it comes to fighting, the Winter Prince is a god. I hear he trained directly under his grandfather, the Darken.”
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.
