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“That’s why I’m glad my keeper is Basil,” Mack adds. “If the Winter Prince had chosen me, my panties would accidentally drop every time we were alone together.” A wicked grin brightens her face. “You know what they say about male Fae? The longer the ears . . .”
I snort, although I get the feeling she’ll do whatever it takes to keep her place here. Including resisting the prince’s magnetic good looks and long . . . ears.
Mack’s dorm room is on the third floor. Every tiny apartment has a fireplace with a magically fed fire that never dies—they don’t want their human slaves freezing to death—and delicious warmth assails me as soon as we enter Mack’s room.
“This cold is sapping away what’s left of my soul,” I groan, rubbing my frozen fingers together.
Mack glances sideways at me. “Just wait. Ever seen snow so thick it’s like an avalanche from the sky? I have.”
Fantastic.
Mack does a twirl around the room, showing off the tiny chamber. I wiggle my nose. It reeks of mothballs and magic—a metallic, cloying scent, like lilies and copper. Now that I’ve been around magic, I’m starting to recognize its smell.
A brass bunk bed presses against the far wall. Her previous roommate, a dour girl with both her ears surgically enhanced to look Fae, she explains, has already moved her stuff to one of the two Unseelie dorms on campus.
Twin cedar nightstands, a matching dresser, and a desk crowd the room. Aged, peeling wallpaper with a pattern of beautiful centaur females frolicking in a meadow covers the walls.
We take a moment to warm up. While I swaddle myself in every blanket available and then position myself close to the fire, she examines my tattoo. Apparently none of the other shadows have one, at least not a full sleeve marking. Her eyes grow wide as she points out the Winter Prince’s personal emblem—an owl with two daggers—swirled inside the intricate lines.
Another thing to make me stand out from the crowd. Yay.
Before, I couldn’t muster the courage to look at the tattoo. Now I take in the dark swirls running down my right arm. The moment my gaze slides over the gold and black lines, the Winter Prince’s words ring through my skull.
She’s mine.
A surge of bitterness blasts up my middle. I’ve been branded as his, and even if Rhaegar wins the Nocturus and I stay his shadow, this mark will claim me as property of the Winter Prince until I graduate. Mack must read my upset expression because she frowns. Then her face brightens. “When I visit my parents in a few months I can ask them if there’s a way to hide the prince’s brand. You won’t be able to erase it, but you shouldn’t have to see it all the time.”
“Wait? We can go home?” Hope makes my voice squeaky.
She bites her lip. “Some of us can leave Everwilde. But most . . .” Her gaze darts to my marked arm. “I have a pass because my parents are legacies, and they’re still in touch with their Evermore benefactors. But a pass home is rare.”
I pretend to rearrange my burrito blanket to hide my disappointment. “That’s okay. I’m not sure what I would say to my family if I could go back.”
She squeezes my hand. “I’ll have my parents talk to their benefactors and see if they might be able to secure you a pass home.”
For some reason, her kindness tightens my throat until I realize I’m one more hand squeeze away from crying.
Before I can embarrass myself, she marches across the floor, hands on her hips.
“On to the important stuff.” She drags a Louis Vuitton suitcase across the hardwood floor and flops it open. “We need to educate you on everything Evermore over the weekend.”
I’d nearly forgotten it was Friday. Usually I spent the weekends hunting, watching the kids, or occasionally working at the feed store with Vi. “Educate me?”
“Yep. Our sole purpose, aside from learning to protect the Evermore, is to shadow the students and make sure all their wants are taken care of. And since you somehow landed the two most sought after Evermore in school, your life here depends on being helpful. Next Friday is the first academic test.”
Test? I release a long, ragged sigh. Friday is supposed to be a happy day. “You said the first. Does that mean there are more?”
“Yep. The first one is basically like an entrance exam to make sure we know the fundamental stuff. But we attend classes like regular school in the morning, and then shadow our keepers in the afternoon classes. And we’re tested just like regular school.”
Splendid.
As if Mack can sense my panic, she adds, “Not to put the fear of Oberon in you, but you need to take this first test seriously. The rest are for a grade, but this one is pass or fail. Meaning you’re one slip-up away from being sent to the scourge. And kids that go there . . . they never return.”
“I did okay in high school,” I point out, purposefully omitting that one ridiculous algebra test . . .
“Know what the darkening ceremony is? How about the difference between a fiddler mushroom and a fennick mushroom? Because they sound similar, but one will enhance a potion, and the other releases spores that poison everyone within thirty feet.”
I shake my head. Way out of my element here.
