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“Has anyone else passed through here yet?” I call to the sprite.
She shakes her tiny head, and Mack lets out a whoop. “I knew it!”
“One of us is about to win first place,” I breathe, in shock.
Mack’s face is a mask of determination as she turns to me. “Ready?”
I nod, a slow grin stretching my lips. “Let the best shadow win.”
We both sprint at the same time, leaping over thick vines that could kill us with one prick of their thorns. My netting flies off, followed by Mack’s a second later. Twenty feet to go. My heart slams into my breastbone. Sweat pours into my eyes. I swat away a shiny blue wasp as I hurdle the final obstacle, a fallen tree covered in moss and fire-red ants.
Ten feet. Five. I look behind me. Mack’s too far back.
I’m going to win.
Something dark flashes in the middle of the path between us. Still running, I glance down—
The snake on the ground in front of her is black as night. It’s coiled aggressively, its head lifted knee-high and fanned out in the shape of a hood. An orange teardrop marking rests on the backside of its skull.
Ash Viper.
A split second—that’s all it takes to decide whether to win or save my best friend’s life. Pivoting, I fling my weight on my back leg, reach for her, and do the only thing I can.
Tug her forward, over the viper and out of its lethal reach.
Her mouth falls open in shock, our eyes locking as her momentum and my strength pull her in front of me . . . And through the portal to the finish line.
47
The applause back on the other side is so loud that it vibrates the earth. I blink against the sunlight, the throng of Fae on the field around us. Cronus has already grabbed Mack and is herding her toward the palace courtyard, where the winner’s stage awaits.
Winner. She won.
A surge of contrasting emotions flood through me. I’m happy she won her place back at the academy. I am. But I can’t shake this feeling . . . this heaviness.
As the crowd pushes me toward the stage, I shove the feeling aside. Hellebore will undoubtedly make me wear something awful, something humiliating and cruel.
But I can handle that.
If he isn’t already in chains. I glance around as we near the stage. Garlands of yellow aconite and purple and white crocus are hung above us. Monarch butterflies dance in the air. Refreshments are laid out on tables. Four stands have been set up in each corner surrounding the stage, and the royals from each seasonal court watch as Mack is guided to the stage.
Where is Hellebore?
I shove as close to the front as I can. Mack looks bewildered, still in shock from what happened at the end.
Cronus slides a wreath of daffodil and hyacinth over her head. “Mackenzie Fairchild, winner of the first annual Evermore Academy Final Gauntlet.”
Once the applause subsides, two hobs guide Mack off the stage. I start to follow—
“Summer Solstice.” Cronus’s voice rings loud over the courtyard. “Please come to the stage.”
Crap. Is there a prize for coming in second place?
For some reason, it’s hard to drag in enough air to satisfy my lungs. Wiping my sweaty palms on my suit, I make my way to the stairs leading up to the podium.
Fine. Everything’s fine. This is just a formality.
Cronus beckons me to center stage. He doesn’t hold a second place wreath. He doesn’t hold anything except a strange look that sends my heart into overdrive.
