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I glare at him, stubbornly refusing to back down. “No. I don’t. I’m your Shadow Guardian, and you should have listened to me.”
I don’t know why I’m suddenly furious with him. Maybe because he put himself in direct danger for me, and now, apparently, is in even more danger for showing the world that he cares for me.
A mortal.
His eyes soften. “I’m sorry for worrying you, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
My scowl melts as I recognize the hurt in his tone. Asher and Eclipsa find something on the wall to stare at. Thank God for mortals’ crap hearing because Mack is clueless, her face buried in that flyer.
Despite my annoyance with Valerian, I find myself grinning because I’ve learned two more truths about him just now. He’s shit when it comes to taking orders and the soulbond is strong enough to make him risk his life to protect me.
Not exactly love, but still significant considering how unapologetically selfish the Evermore are by nature.
“Whoa,” Mack blurts, holding up the flyer. “Have you seen this?”
“Just pretend I’ve been in a semi-coma for the past few days and haven’t seen anything,” I quip.
Valerian lobs Mack a conspiratorial look that screams, See what I have to deal with?
Mack rolls her eyes as she thrusts the paper into my lap. “Just read it, smart ass.”
I do, forcing my blurry eyes to focus on the elegant, handwritten words scrolling across the expensive cardstock paper. I only get to the first paragraph before the print becomes too fuzzy to make out, but what I do see surprises me.
The Summer Queen is opening up internships to her law firm, Larkspur and Associates, only the biggest Fae firm in the mortal world. Every lawyer who wants to specialize in Fae law dreams of a position at the firm, but only a select few ever enter its hallowed walls.
Mack’s dads both work there, and it’s rumored Sebastian is slated to become the first ever mortal partner.
My eyebrows bunch together. This seems too good to be true. “The academy okayed this?”
Eclipsa glances over the flyer, her mouth parting as she nears the bottom. “Apparently. They must be trying to save face after all the recent deaths, that’s the only reason they would allow Queen Larkspur to poach students.” Asher frowns. “Are you guys going to actually say what’s on the flyer or what?”
“Sorry, Asher. I forgot you only read things with pictures,” Eclipsa teases, ignoring his low growl. “Apparently, the Summer Queen is offering up spots at Larkspur and Associates to second and third year shadows. Shadows that are accepted can forgo their fourth year at the academy for a paid internship. They still have to pass the exams, but they live in Manhattan, in the new Fae district, and also learn about Fae law.”
My heart skips a beat. Forgo my fourth year? Paid internship. Right now, both of those things sound like heaven. “What are the requirements to apply?”
“Looks like you have to have straight A’s . . .” Eclipsa peers at the flyer. “A recommendation from a professor, and . . . pass the final gauntlet.”
Just like that, my dream dies a quick, undignified death. “What? How does that make sense when we’re not allowed to participate in the final gauntlet until our fourth year?”
Mack gives me that look—the one that says I should pay more attention. “Anyone is allowed to participate in the final gauntlet, but only the fourth years are required. Second and third years are opting for the less dangerous final exams instead because we really like staying alive.”
I would laugh, if she wasn’t being completely serious. “Does the invitation to apply open again next year?”
Eclipsa peers at the flyer. “It specifies the application window closes after this year. You must enter and then pass the gauntlet to even be considered.”
“Maybe she’ll reopen the applications again next year?” I say, totally aware of how desperate I sound.
“Those internships are extraordinarily competitive and usually only available to shadow graduates with at least five years of experience. I assume the queen is doing this for the PR, since the recent deaths at the academy have brought bad press for all the Fae, including those pushing hard to expand new businesses in the mortal world.”
I pretend there’s a spot on my shirt, picking at it to hide my disappointment. Not just that the internship is so far out of reach, but that my mother isn’t doing this for altruistic reasons.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but a part of me needs to know that she’s good. Or, at the very least, that she’s marginally good. Like a socialite who goes to fancy charities for the status aspect, but also tips well when no one’s looking.
Just enough kindness that I can reasonably not hate her.
With my hopes of skipping fourth year well and thoroughly dashed, the others leave to let me rest. Apparently the antidote to the darklings’ corrupted magic inside a mortal is nymph tears, which also happens to make mortals sleep. Like, a lot.
I should be fully back to normal before school tomorrow, and Eclipsa promises an early morning training session—if I’m feeling up to it.
