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“Wait.” Cronus’s voice booms over the banquet.
Somehow, I know he’s talking to me. And that turning around will change everything.
The panic in Eclipsa’s eyes sets me on edge. I’ve never seen her even mildly upset.
That’s when I notice the total silence. Not like before, when the room was quiet but there was still the normal background symphony of tinkling silverware and murmurs and chairs squeaking over the parquet floor.
This is the kind of silence that permeates every cell of your being. The kind you remember for years to come.
Slowly, I turn to face Cronus. My heart is battering against my breastbone like a scared rabbit trying to escape its cage. If only I could let it out. Maybe then the chaos of emotions ravaging my insides would quiet.
Cronus has left the stage and stands a few feet away. His face looks as confused as mine. But there’s also terror in his expression.
“No,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone.
What is happening? My gaze darts around the room. Mack sits to my left at a table with Basil. Her hand is slapped over her mouth. Inara has lurched to her feet, her chair knocked violently back behind her. Her face is flushed with rage, her nostrils flared and chest heaving for each breath.
Her perfect face looks seconds from crumpling, like a puffed up pastry just out of the oven.
Her parents are there, two gorgeous Winter Fae dressed in ivory furs and weighed down in silver jewelry. Their faces are twin expressions of rage, and her father trains his outrage on the Winter King.
Inara’s mother whispers something in her husband’s ear, and then they slowly all turn their rage on me.
If not for the crowd, I’m fairly certain they would murder me where I stand.
But why? And why is everyone staring at me?
No, not at me. Above me.
I force my eyes up, knowing what I will see.
Please no. Please no. Please—
When I spot the gorgeous green butterfly hovering just above my head, my mind goes blank. Literally just stops functioning for a hot second.
Cronus turns his head to face the crones. “There has been a mistake.”
A mistake. Yes, a mistake!
The crones hiss and moan. “The eternal fire never lies,” they chant. “Never. Never. She has been soulbound.”
The headmistress appears to my right. She’s walking toward me, her forehead wrinkled and mouth stern. But my attention slides to the Winter Court section, to the prince’s table . . . and the crystalline butterfly perched on one of the sharp peaks of his icy crown.
“We’re . . . mates?” I whisper.
The prince locks eyes with me. Gone is the angry, dismissive expression. The total apathy. I startle at the emotions there. The vulnerability and pain.
We’re . . . mates. Soulbonded, whatever the frack that is. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Complete, total sense. The way I feel about him. The way my body reacts when he’s around. My insane attraction to him.
I’m not falling in love with him. I’m bonded to him . . . against my will. There’s nothing between us, nothing but some stupid Fae magic that gives me no choice.
And he lied to me about it. He knew.
I feel the attention shift from me to the prince’s table. The Winter King stands. He’s tall, taller than the prince, and every bit of him exudes power. From the way he commands utter silence to the way he wields his gaze like a weapon.
Cronus flinches beneath the king’s stare, and the headmistress’s hand flutters to her face, as if she can hide behind it somehow.
“Tell me, how is this possible?” the king says. The quiet tone of his voice scrapes down every knob of my spine. “How has my son, heir to the Unseelie Courts, been soulbonded to a . . . human?”
