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Mack eyes my mountain of deliciousness. “Afraid they’d run out or something?”
I snort, taking in her measly banana and tiny bowl of oatmeal before offering her a croissant. “Here, your mouth will thank me.”
I prepare for an epic response, like that’s what she said. Instead, Mack’s lips press together. “No, thanks.”
Jace arches an eyebrow as we share a look.
“You can eat that stuff because you’re tall and burning like a zillion calories in your extra workouts,” she adds with a pout, “but some of us can’t afford to.”
“Afford to? Since when do you care about that?”
Jace snatches the pastry I was offering Mack and takes a bite. “Since we became second years. That’s when they start measuring us.”
“Measuring what? Students?” I nearly spit out my mouthful of yum, sure I misheard him. “Like cattle?”
“Darling, we’re part of an elite group of mortals who represent the most beautiful creatures in existence. That responsibility comes with impossibly high standards. Didn’t you have to fill out your measurements on the application along with your picture?”
And . . . that explains why everyone here is abnormally gorgeous. I stare at my hands, covered in chocolate, unsure how to answer.
I forget sometimes that not everyone knows my enrollment story. Which is way darker than the rags-to-riches tale the academy peddles.
Mack drags her stare away from my plate and sighs. “I had to lie on my application. Only a few inches but you don’t get into Evermore Academy with these curves.”
And just when I thought I couldn’t possibly hate the Fae any more.
Mack was promised to the Fae since birth, part of the bargain her dads made when they used Fae magic to influence her adoption.
I shudder, thinking about what would have happened if she hadn’t been accepted.
Mack’s tough, but even she wouldn’t survive long fighting the darklings in the scourge lands.
“Screw their standards.” I shove one of the mini chocolate orgasms into my mouth. I angry-chew my way through two more before pushing the tray away.
Someone as kind and amazing as Mack should never feel less than because her body doesn’t fit a certain made-up ideal.
The Fae watch us while we gorge ourselves, high on sugar and the promise of humane treatment.
At some point, I catch sight of Rhaegar Moorland standing in the shadow of the nearest awning, and a chill dampens my mood.
He’s watching me, nostrils flared, not even trying to hide his simmering hatred.
Does he know Valerian is gone? The food in my stomach threatens to come back up at the thought.
Refusing to cower, I stare right back, surprised by how much he’s changed.
No longer the bright, handsome Summer Court Fae I remember, there’s something raw and wounded about him, like a wolf who was caught in a steel trap and healed, but will never quite be the same.
His once bright green eyes appear dark, almost muddy, his once glorious reddish gold hair now faded, shaggy, and unkempt. But it goes beyond his outer beauty.
Like autumn leaves after they’ve fallen from their branches, their stunning colors bleeding away into rot, his inner vibrancy has withered into something ugly.
Ugh. I drag my focus from the Summer Court Evermore and will myself to pick up another croissant. No way in Fae hell am I going to let Rhaegar, or anyone else, ruin this moment.
I’ve barely taken a bite when I feel Ruby rustle from her slumber behind me. She sniffs the air. “What is that smell?”
“Ruby, meet croissant.” I hold my barely-touched pastry up in the air. “Want one?”
Hissing, she rips the treat from my fingers and tosses it across the courtyard, hitting a third year shadow in the back of the head. “Want one? That thing is swimming with glamour magic!”
