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38
Two whole months. That’s how long I’ve been trying to crack the prince’s icy facade. And so far, it’s been a total failure.
I’ve been the perfect shadow. I greet him every morning like he’s my favorite person on earth. I’m helpful during classes, grab him items before he asks, and go the extra mile by making sure all his pencils are sharpened and his electronics charged. I’ve improved in combat class, the extra lessons with Eclipsa finally paying off.
But none of it has gotten me any closer to him; in fact, some days I think it’s the opposite. The nicer I am, the more I present myself as a human being, the more he resents me. He’s gone most nights now, so I never see him at the house.
Rumor has it he’s back with Inara, not that I give a flying frick.
Exhaling, I breathe out my frustrations as I lean my head back, taking in the rare sun. All the first year students are sitting on blankets in the snowy grounds near the lake, enjoying a picnic before our excursion begins.
The combined field trip is put on every year by our Mythological Creatures and Potions and Poisons classes.
All around me, students try to guess where we’re going.
“Somewhere in the Spring Court, hopefully,” Evelyn says, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
In this light, the gold filaments between the red are visible. Man, I would kill for hair like that.
“I couldn’t care less,” Mack says. She’s dressed in khaki shorts and knee-high riding boots, Ray Ban aviator sunglasses hiding her eyes. “As long as the tacos keep coming, I’m happy.”
Our food is catered by the students’ top choice, and this year the restaurant just happened to be my favorite taco truck stand in existence, Locos Tacos.
The purple-and-gold checkered blanket we sit on is soft against my legs. Wherever we’re going on this mysterious field trip, we were told to be ready for warmer weather, and I’ve rolled my jeans up as high as they go.
But it’s unseasonably warm on the Island too. Despite being early December, the sun’s kiss breaches my thin powder-blue sweater.
I could have worn shorts, I suppose. The prince provides me with an endless supply of clothes for every occasion, even though I only ever go with the leather pants, loose sweatshirts, and hoodies.
But then I’d have to ask him for a razor, and I’m tired of him giving me things to make up for his callousness.
A shadow draws lazy circles around our blanket. The prince’s owl. He follows me when Eclipsa or the prince aren’t with me.
Nothing has happened since the basilisk; I’m starting to think I overreacted. After all, Everwilde is a dangerous place. Despite the headmistress’s concerns, mortals are bound to die.
It’s the Fae way.
“Gonna eat that or eye screw it?” Mack asks, jerking her chin at the basket of tacos in my lap. I take a bite and pure heaven glides over my taste buds.
“Fae ears,” I moan through a mouthful of green chili pork taco. “I can die happy now.”
Mack wipes her hands on a napkin and grabs another soft taco, the corn tortilla breaking apart between her fingers. Tomatillo sauce smears her cheek, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun. Purple and teal streak the chocolate brown, her newest colors.
“This is better than sex,” she declares like someone who’s had a ton of sex. Which I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.
“Whoa, ladies.” Jace is a first year shadow who, if the rumors are true, has more experience in his pinky than Mack and I have put together. His parents own a bunch of Fae condos in Florida. “You must not have found the right partners yet.”
Mack arches an eyebrow. “And what would you know about that, Jace?”
Everyone knows Jace bats for the other team. Grinning, he gives a careless shrug. “Enough to know if you think a taco is better, you’re doing it wrong.”
“No,” I say, finishing the last bit of mine. “You just haven’t met the right taco.” I wink. “Try the green chili pork; they’ll blow your mind.”
Dusting the shredded cheese from my hands, I get to my feet. On the other side of the grouping, near a cliff overlooking the frozen lake, lounge the Six. Unlike the rest of the Evermore, they refuse to eat with their shadows.
And, of course, they don’t lower themselves to eat our human fare.
A veritable feast of summer fruits and vegetables brought in from Summer Court territories mound little silver trays, and they pick from them lazily beneath a royal-blue pavilion.
