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Inara’s expression is terrifyingly blank as she laughs, a sharp, murderous sound. “We’re just playing a game, that’s all. Rhaegar, come here.”
In my periphery, Rhaegar eagerly follows her command. My stomach lurches. I know I’ve gone too far, embarrassing her in front of the Six. Goose bumps prickle my exposed skin, my chest tight with dread.
Basil is behind Rhaegar, whispering heatedly in his ear. With a growl, Rhaegar shoves the poor fawn, sending him tumbling into a trio of planters. Blue ceramic, soil, and cotton-candy pink pansies go flying.
“Here.” Inara gives a dismissive wave in my direction, as if I truly am trash to be discarded. “She’s yours for the day. Do whatever you’d like with her.”
My stomach lurches. All my dreams of thriving at school, of graduating and doing something good with my life, disintegrate.
Fae like Inara and Rhaegar will never let that happen.
Walling off my emotions, I grit my teeth, ready to face whatever happens next.
I’m so wrapped up in my anger that I don’t notice the scent. Not at first. Not until the others are already falling back, their sneers transforming into confusion.
Rhaegar’s head snaps up, his nostrils flaring as he inhales.
Alarm flickers inside his eyes. Like a wolf suddenly scared off by a larger predator, he darts away.
All at once, the perfume fills my nostrils, a potent, overwhelming bouquet of floral scents. As if lilies, roses, jasmine, and honeysuckle all got busy and had a giant flower baby.
Inara screams. At the same time, the courtyard trembles. Flowering vines surge from the ground, exploding from the small fissures between the cobblestones.
The crack of stone rends the air.
Before Inara can move, the ropy green vines snake up her long legs, up her torso, twisting over her arms. I watch in shock as the vines lift my tormentor into the air like a rag doll.
Inch-long thorns pierce her pale flesh, drawing out beads of metallic silver blood.
Her lips peel open in another scream, but she makes strangled, gurgling noises. Something white sprouts inside the chasm of her mouth—a humongous magnolia flower.
Her eyes stretch wide. She’s . . . choking.
The air stirs with creatures. A swarm of bees appears, darkening the sky above as they descend on the Fae. Blue jays and robins dive bomb my tormentors, picking at their flesh and adding to the confusion. Giant red wasps buzz by my head as they violently attack the others.
This is a whole lot of nope. Whatever new Fae horror I’ve stumbled into, I want nothing to do with it. The moment my magical binds spring free, I jump into action.
For some idiotic reason, the first thing I do is gather my clothes and slip them on.
Even here, in the middle of all this chaos, Aunt Vi’s lessons on modesty supersede my survival instincts.
Mack rushes to my side and begins to drag me away. At the same moment, Ruby tugs on my earlobe, hard. “Run, Kid, while the maniac is distracted!”
Except I don’t think Inara’s distracted—unless distracted is a new word for actively dying.
Her face has turned a sickly blue, her eyes glossy with raw fear. Ducking the stinger of the biggest hornet I’ve ever seen, Bane throws spears of ice at the tendrils trapping his sister, while Kimber uses her inhuman strength to hold onto Inara legs, and Lyra shreds her claws over the plants.
But there’s too many vines and creatures. In less than a minute, the entire Elite Six is caught in a nightmarish display, each Fae trapped and bound by sentient vines, at the mercy of whoever is attacking them.
Pushing my curiosity aside, I let Ruby and Mack shove me away from the murderous scene. As I sprint across campus toward the main hall, I can’t help but look at the beautiful landscape with a newfound fear.
By the powerful display of magic, I know an Evermore just saved me. I also know that thinking this new, terrifying Fae is my friend is dangerous.
If I’ve learned anything in my short, traumatizing time here, it’s that an Evermore never does anything for free. Meaning I now owe a debt I have no means to pay.
5
“Who the Shimmer was that?” I pant as we round the last hall and the second year lockers appear. What I wouldn’t give for a freaking shower right now. Every part of me is covered in breakfast, and the ankle socks inside my sneakers squish with orange juice.
