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Instead I find massive chandeliers in the shape of vines hanging from high, arched ceilings. Magical orbs drip from their golden branches, each orb of light a little sun that illuminates the room. A layer of shimmery frost covers the entire thing.
Wooden bleachers filled with students surround the chamber, looking down upon a marble floor that appears to be a giant map, segmented into seven distinct locations. Great leafy mosaic trees of orange and yellow and red spread across the section I stand on . . .
I suddenly get what each segment represents. The Fae Courts. This area is Autumn. The one next to it, Winter.
The crowd on the floor is smaller, less than a hundred Fae, all dressed in extravagant clothes beyond imagining. Headdresses made of gold-spun leaves; cloaks weaved from spider silk and butterfly wings; armor carved from ice.
The clothes match the theme of the floor each Fae stands on, and I quickly realize these students are split up by court, meaning everyone has their place.
Everyone but me.
Desperately, I search for an indication of where to go.
A dais of obsidian rises in the center of the room. As I take in the black pedestal and the very human, very terrified group that huddles there inside a silver cage, I answer my own question.
That’s where I belong.
A pang of dread pierces my gut.
They’re inside a cage. A Mother. Freaking. Cage.
My nostrils flare as I try to pull in air, panic tightening my chest. I don’t do well in tight, enclosed spaces.
The sprite that led me here flits over, an anxious look scrunching her face. “What are you doing, weird one? Get up there with your people.”
“No!” I didn’t plan on yelling my refusal, but the combination of acoustics and fear amplify my voice and it reverberates through the room, even echoing for dramatic affect.
Oh. My. God.
A collective gasp goes through the crowd. Hide. Where can I hide?
A few of the closest Fae gape at me, obviously not used to anyone disobeying. But most stare at me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust.
A Fae girl breaks off from the crowd on Winter’s side, her clear ice heels clacking loudly as she marches toward me, two other girls in tow. Everyone she passes cowers a little.
Great. Resident mean girl incoming.
Why am I not surprised? Mean girls tend to target me, probably because I can’t just fall in line like everyone else. It’s not in my nature. At my high school there was Mary Louise, homecoming queen and sometimes girlfriend of Cal and half the football team.
But compared to the Fae girl and two others stalking toward me, Mary Louise is a nun.
Crap on a stick. This is not going the way I planned at all.
The sprite hisses in fear and starts tugging at my earlobe. “Oberon’s teeth, girl. That’s Inara Winterspell. I suggest you move your ass, now.”
But her words have no effect. My brain has already decided I won’t go inside the cage—bad things are going to happen there—and even someone as intimidating as Inara Winterspell can’t break me out of my terror.
“No,” I spit through clenched teeth. “I . . . can’t.”
Memories flood my brain like poison. I was only ten when my parents died. Instead of letting the government throw me into foster care, I took to the streets. But ten was way too young to fend for myself, and I was caught up in the human trafficking that runs rampant in the Tainted Zone, especially the bigger cities.
If not for Aunt Zinnia’s help, I would have been sold to the Fae years ago.
A shiver begins deep in my torso. I cross my arms over my chest. I can still feel the bars from the cramped dog cage they shoved me in cutting my skin. Can remember screaming and thrashing and crying to get out. I half lost my mind between those steely bars.
Bile slams into my throat. No way in hell I’m going back in a cage. Any cage.
The sprite yanks hard on my ear, and I try to swat her away. She’s strong, though, and fast.
