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“What? Why doesn’t Asher exempt you?”
“Because only the Winter Prince could demand something like that. Besides, I wouldn’t ask him to, not when everyone else has to pass the same standards.”
My chest tightens. Suddenly all her excuses for not eating, like being too busy or her stomach hurting or having eaten earlier, make sense.
“I didn’t ask him to do that,” I insist, trying and failing to keep the hurt from my voice.
“I know, okay? I’m not saying you did.”
My stupid bottom lip tugs low as tears threaten to fall. I feel so horrible. How could I not have noticed she was starving herself for some ignorant standard? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I mentioned it at the beginning of the school year, but then . . .” She shrugs. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad. You already have so much going on.”
“Mack, I didn’t know. If I had—”
“See why I didn’t tell you?” She wraps me in a quick hug. “And I don’t think it’s unfair, not really.”
“But the others do?”
“Some, maybe. But they’ll get over it. I tried telling them it wouldn’t matter. You’re like a weird gazelle who never gains weight.”
I smack her arm. “Yeah, especially my boobs. If I could just have half of yours . . .”
Her smile lights up her blue eyes, easing any leftover tension between us. “The ILB likes your boobs, and these puppies are not for sale.” She stares lovingly at her rack in the mirror. “They’re my best asset.”
“Wrong,” I say, a sudden sappiness coming on. “Your heart is your best asset.”
She hugs me again, longer this time. “Hurry and meet me at the banquet. I have a surprise for you.”
As I watch her go, I mull over my hurt at being kept in the dark over the physicals. Why didn’t she tell me? It’s not like I’ve kept anything from her . . .
Oh, hell.
If this is how I feel knowing she kept a test from me, how will she feel when she finds out I’ve been hiding my past? I thought keeping that from her was for her own protection, but I see now that’s not an excuse to lie to a friend.
I have to fix this before she finds out some other way.
After the final gauntlet, I’ll tell her the truth.
36
The entire school attends the spring banquet, from professors to students, a tradition taken directly from Whitehall Academy. I rush to the quad just as dusk approaches. Long tables covered in white linen are spread out across the lawn, beneath the crape myrtle and cherry trees. The magical lanterns strung through their branches glow softly.
The Evermore and their families sit at tables in the middle of the courtyard. Accordingly, they get waiters, fancier chairs with cushions, and their own private bar.
I search the quad. Where are the second year tables?
While bumbling around looking for where to go, I stumble across a table laden with sweets. Hellebore’s sprite, Nerium, is already terrorizing the gnome Fae in charge of doling out the tiny plates of candied violets and strawberry basil tarts.
Ruby screeches from her perch on my shoulder. “Have you ever seen anything quite so beautiful?”
“Ruby, don’t you dare leave my shoulder.”
There might have been a rule that specified no sprites allowed at the banquet . . . and I might have broken said rule. I reach for Ruby, but she slips through my fingers, cackling in delight.
Note to self: some rules are probably there for a reason.
I leave Ruby to fight Hellebore’s sprite over a slice of apricot almond tart. As I pass by the group of fourth year tables, Callum spies me and nods, but the gesture is clipped.
