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That does not sound promising.
“Just curious. How many mortal students come from the Tainted Zone?”
“None.” He shakes his head for emphasis, his ears twitching back and forth.
Although his answer isn’t surprising—anyone with power and influence bribed themselves across the borders right after the magical apocalypse happened—I still wish I’d known all this beforehand. “Stupid luck,” I mutter. “Stealing from the Winter Prince.”
He stops so suddenly I nearly fall off his back. “What did you say?”
“I stole some neverapples and . . .” The intensity in his voice makes me nervous, and I brush back a knotted rope of hair before continuing. “Apparently they belonged to a Winter Prince.”
The silence that follows is nearly as cold as the frigid air. Does this Winter Prince control tongues now, too?
But it’s obvious his shadow—and his brand—taint me much like the dark magic does the darklings. Until I sever this bond between us somehow, I’m untouchable.
As if the Winter Prince knows I’m thinking of him, the snow begins to drizzle down in wet, annoying bursts. I focus on the campus. It’s huge, and I imagine in the springtime the land around us bubbles with life and beauty.
But now . . . now the sloping lawn leading up to the main campus building is blanched with snow. As are the conical evergreens and waist-high wall of shrubs leading to a massive gate. Two-foot tall droughts of snow line the top of the stone fence.
A huge diamond-shaped crest sits in the center of the wrought iron gate, half-covered in snow. Engraved into the surface around the letters EA are all manner of creatures: fawns, sprites, ogres, and strange animals I’ve never seen before.
With a twist of the centaur’s wrist, the door parts, revealing a long gravel path cleared of snow. Flames of green magic flicker from ivory columns on either side.
I slide off the centaur’s back without being told. His gaze hovers somewhere on the mountains in the distance.
For some stupid reason, my eyes prickle with tears.
“If something happens to you . . . I will let your family know,” he offers kindly.
My throat aches. I hadn’t truly realized until now how much I fear my family never knowing my fate.
But I made myself a promise. Straightening, I force my chin high. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll see them in four years.”
The corners of the centaur’s lips tug upward. “I hope that’s the case . . . what did you say your name was?”
“Summer Solstice.” I throw out my hand to shake his before remembering he’s Fae, after all.
He regards my hand for a moment before tentatively offering his much larger one.
I give a good, firm pump while he frowns down at the whole thing.
“And you are?” I prod.
“Magus,” he answers, retrieving his hand and then inspecting it. “Good luck inside.” There’s something in his tone that bothers me, a warning. But before I can dig further, he crowds me toward the door with his bulky body. “Go to the headmistress’s office. It’s on the tenth floor. And . . . try not to speak or do anything that grabs attention.”
That’s my new motto. Stay quiet and blend in. How hard can it be?
10
Surprisingly, the inside of the main building isn’t as dark and dreary as I was expecting. A strangely comforting mixture of pine cleaner and sage permeate the air. Pendulum lights filled with magical orbs hang from the mahogany ceiling beams, and flickering sconces line the stone walls.
Maps are neatly stacked at an unoccupied helpdesk near an atrium. When I grab one, I catch sight of two guards near a door. Their ears are round—they’re human. Their sharp gaze falls over me and I quicken my pace, my boots hardly making a sound against the parquet wood floor’s polished surface.
On the third floor, I pass by a commons area where Fae students lounge on sofas that could have come from Ikea. MacBooks and iPads fill their laps, and a few have headphones on.
From a distance, most could pass as human—if not for their slender ears that end in delicate points.
The door to the headmistress’s office is parted. A gold plaque on the door reads, Headmistress Luna Lepidonis.
