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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!”
The second the words leave her tiny red lips, my stomach flutters strangely. A wave of euphoria rushes through my veins.
Crap on a stick.
A quick check of the courtyard reveals the censor is gone.
Nonono—
“Stand up, you dull little mortals,” a horribly familiar female voice orders. “It’s time for a game.”
Inara Winterspell. Any hope I have left that we’re not totally screwed dies a quick death at the sound of her cruel voice. The entire courtyard full of shadows jumps to their feet at the exact same time, including me.
“Ruby,” I call. “What’s happening? Why didn’t my necklace protect me?”
“Sorry, Kid.” The concern in her voice scares me. “Your soulstone can’t protect you when you willingly consume the magic.”
“It will be okay,” Mack assures me, but I don’t fully believe her. Nothing’s ever okay where the Fae are concerned.
Inara strolls through the tables, shadowed by what’s left of the Elite Six. Kimber wears a black veil against the spring sun that partially obscures the vampire’s feline golden eyes and chin-length black hair. Lyra, positioned to Inara’s left, looks both ferocious and stunning, her caramel mane of hair falling over tawny, athletic arms.
Only Inara could make both a lycan and a vampire submit to her command.
While Reina and her twin boy toys stroll around filming, Inara’s twin, Bane, busies himself toying with the mortal shadows.
My blood boils as I watch him pick up a plate of pink frosted donuts and force a first year shadow girl to shove them down her throat until she pukes. All the while, his face is transforming into monstrous faces meant to terrify the first years, who haven’t yet been told about his creepy gift.
The only silver lining to this whole situation is that I can’t move. Otherwise, I would have already throat punched Bane and earned myself the Six’s attention.
