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The act almost makes Hellebore seem, if not kind, then decent. Until he turns to me, at least, and his face is anything but kind. “Your choice, mortal. Make the bargain or lose your spot in the academy and become a slave of the Spring Court.”
I look from him to Ruby . . . and, slowly, an idea forms. One that, if worded just right, might let me make this bargain on my own terms.
Without being controlled like a puppet by a flower-tatted BDSM serial killer.
“I’ll bargain with you . . .” I wait until his lips part with expectation, his eyes gloating, and then add, “on one condition. Actually, no, two conditions. First, you tell Inara and her friends to call off the attacks. No more pranks, no more trying to make me fail. Unless you can’t make her listen to you—”
“Done. And the other?”
“Second . . . I choose the part of me you touch.”
His eyes narrow.
Shoot. I gave in too easily. I should have protested more. “Or not. If you don’t want to bargain—”
“Yes,” he says too quickly before he regains his lazy composure, his mouth twitching into that arrogant grin that makes him so throat-punchable. “Now, say it. What are you agreeing to?”
I pull in huge amounts of air, trying to chase away the feeling that I’m drowning.
Talk slowly. Think before you speak.
After I’ve gathered my thoughts and have my statement ready, I say, “I agree that, when the time comes, I’ll give you permission to touch a part of me that will be specified right before the act itself.” I peer up at him, terrified he’ll hear the pounding of my duplicitous heart and know I’m tricking him. “Your turn.”
“I agree to my part of the bargain. You will remain at the academy, and Inara won’t touch you.”
A wave of magic rolls over us as the bargain is struck, leaving a metallic taste in my mouth and doubt in my heart.
His eyes glitter with dark intent as he adds, “No one will touch you until it’s my turn.” I flinch as he suddenly leans so close I can feel the heat of his lips against my ear. “And then, Summer, I promise you, it won’t matter where I touch you, do you understand? You’ll be ruined, utterly, completely, permanently destroyed, and the Winter Prince will watch.”
I force my eyes downcast. Let him believe I’m cowed into submission. That he forced me into a terrible bargain I now regret. Whatever it takes to feed his demented soul long enough to keep my spot in the academy.
Once he fulfills his end of the deal, I know he’ll wait before demanding I fulfill mine. Savoring the secret, shared knowledge that he can touch me whenever he wants. Have me whenever he wants.
Typical Evermore, using a mortal as an unwitting pawn in a game where we couldn’t begin to fathom the rules.
But I’m not a mortal—not technically, anyway—and if my hunch was correct, I’ll beat him at his own twisted game.
If not, I’m so very, very screwed.
25
“Again,” Valerian orders. He’s posted on the far side of the gym, arms crossed and legs spread wide. When Eclipsa hesitates, he repeats, “Again, Eclipsa.”
I flash her a panicked look, and she mouths, sorry, before sending a wave of magic rolling across the mat toward me. Taking a deep breath, I square off to face the churning darkness as it rises, transforming into a hulking troll.
It’s an illusion spell. I know the troll isn’t real. I know it can’t hurt me.
And yet, my mind and body freak out as if it were real. I scream and duck, searching for a weapon. Pleading with them for anything to fight this monster. The troll barrels closer, and I can actually smell its rotten egg stench and feel the mat shake beneath its large, hairy feet.
Sweat pours from my body. I’m terrified, helpless to do anything but watch as it swings its huge, spiky club at my face—
“Enough!” Eclipsa snaps.
I must have closed my eyes, and when I open them, everything is sideways. Oh—that’s because I’m curled in the fetal position on my side, arms hugging my legs, trembling so hard my thigh slaps softly against the padded mat.
Relaxing, I stare up at the ceiling. The troll is gone and once again, I produced no magic.
None. Not even a tiny little whisper of the stuff.
