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And then I see Hellebore standing just off to the side, hands in his pockets, lips pressed into the softest of smiles . . . and my body goes cold. No.
I turn to slip off stage, but two Spring Court guards block my path. More make themselves known surrounding the dais.
Trapped.
Turning, I march toward Hellebore, working to calm my nerves. He doesn’t know. This is him humiliating me.
“Surprised to see me?” he asks softly.
He knows. He knows. I clench my jaw, forcing the fear from my face. “What is this?”
He shrugs. “Fulfilling your end of the bargain. Or did you think I’d forgotten?”
I swallow, throat painfully dry. Whatever embarrassment he has in store, I can take it. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”
He beckons to a hob in the corner who shuffles over, carrying something on a golden velvet pillow.
A makeshift crown of ivy, poppies, and bellflowers. But the ivy is withered, the leaves brittle and browned along the edges, and the flowers have lost their bloom and lay wilted and limp.
Hellebore regards the crown of flowers before sliding his unreadable gaze to me. “Put it on.”
I drag in a shaky breath. What game is he playing? Perhaps the crown is spelled with magic that will make me do silly things like strip off my clothes. Oh, God . . .
The bargain stipulates the item cannot be imbued with magic that would harm me, but not embarrass me. I should have thought of that, but one can’t die of embarrassment, right?
Lifting my chin, I reach for the crown. Whatever he has in store, it cannot break me. He hardly seems to breathe as my fingers close around the ivy base. I swear the tangled vine moves beneath my touch.
“Put it on your head,” he commands.
I look out into the crowd. They want to see a spectacle? A show? I’ll give them one.
Silence descends as I lift the crown and settle it on my head. I stand there, feeling silly and awkward. What’s supposed to happen? I feel nothing.
A pink-skinned nymph in the front covers her mouth with a hand. “She wears the Summer Princess’s crown!”
Another cries, “The flowers—they’re blooming!”
Blooming? A collective gasp shatters the stillness. And then, as if synchronized, every single Fae in the audience drops into a bow.
Oh, no.
A whisper of panic hits me.
Hellebore wasn’t trying to humiliate me. He was trying to expose me.
“Nice to see you again, Princess Hyacinth Larkspur,” Hellebore whispers in my ear before slipping his arm in mine. I’m frozen, paralyzed with surprise and dread as he addresses the crowd. “Fellow Evermore, I’ve found the lost Summer Princess, the fiancé promised to me by her father, King Larkspur.”
All I hear is, the fiancé promised to me, and then my mind goes blank with horror.
Mack is in the crowd. We lock eyes. Her skin has lost all color, her mouth gaping in complete, utter confusion and shock. I spot Inara, Bane, and a few others close by.
Their expressions match Mack’s, although their faces have the added tinge of fear as they slowly realize the mortal they’ve been taunting was actually a Summer Court Princess.
That’s right, Fae-holes. Even in my ever-growing desperation, I manage to find a kernel of happiness in their terror.
After that, everything spirals into chaos. My mother springs to her feet, the Summer King rising behind her. Their court breaks into angry shouts while the Spring Court guards surround me. More guards grab me by the arms and drag me from the stage. The crush of bodies is disorienting.
I try to fight, but I might as well be struggling against boulders for all it does.
