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“Once the betrothal vow is finalized by magic, it will eat away at any claim the Winter Prince has on you, including your mating bond, until any trace of your soulbond is erased.”
The idea of losing what Valerian and I share nearly makes me refuse. But I know—I know without a doubt that what we have goes beyond magic.
Beyond fate.
Love. Hellebore might be able to sever our mating bond eventually, but he’ll never be able to make me love anyone but Valerian.
My mother must see that I can’t be swayed because she begins to negotiate with Hellebore. “After the betrothal contract is made permanent, my daughter stays with me at my apartment in the mortal world, as is her right before the marriage. And she gets to finish her third year at the academy before the wedding.”
Hellebore contemplates that for a moment before shrugging. “Agreed.”
“And my friends won’t be punished any further for breaking in,” I add quickly.
His eyes narrow, but he nods. “What I have in store for you will be more than enough punishment for the prince.”
I glare at Hellebore. Funneling every bit of rage and hatred into my eyes, my mouth, my voice as I say, “Do it.”
Hellebore gives a signal and three guards leave their places against the wall. The vines lower my friends to the floor, slowly, until they’re laid out in a row next to one another.
As soon as the guards administer the antidote, a drop of silver fluid on each of their tongues, the sickly white of their skin begins to fade. Their lips go from bruised purple to pink, their flesh softens, and their chests begin to heave as air enters their lungs once more.
I nearly stagger with relief, hands flexing and unflexing at my sides.
“They will wake up in a few hours, perfectly fine.” Hellebore makes another flippant gesture and the guards begin to drag them away. “Throw them into the scourge lands with the darklings.”
“You liar!” I try to break free from my guards, fighting with all my strength.
Hellebore’s head falls back as he laughs. “Fae Hells, you’re going to be fun to play with. I’m teasing. How can I witness the prince’s public humiliation if he’s been ravaged by darklings?”
The guards halt, looking confused and wary as they try to determine what they’re supposed to actually do. I can tell it’s a common theme—read my psycho fiancé’s moods and try not to die.
Hellebore waves a hand. “Make sure they end up safely in the Winter territories.” He lifts his brows in exasperation. “Satisfied, little pet?”
Not nearly. Not until your smarmy head is on a pike, you maniac.
I nod, my entire body stiff as I wait for what comes next.
I don’t have long to wait. Hellebore’s eyes glitter with malevolence as he saunters over and says, “Summer Solstice, Princess and surviving heir to the Summer Court Throne, do you agree to complete the promise of marriage between us? To become mine after graduation by the law of Faerie forevermore? To become my possession, my ward, and eventually, my wife?” lippant attitude over his treachery makes my teeth grind. “How does trading me to your enemy, the Fae who is colluding with the Darken and just poisoned your son, benefit you?”
“Besides the generous offer of lands in the Untouched Zones?” His eyes narrow. “Your mortal nature has made you blind to our ways, otherwise you would understand. I’m saving my son and the throne. With you alive, the contract your father made with Hellebore still stands. You will become the Spring Court Prince’s wife, and my son will be forced to forget you. He will marry Inara Winterspell, placating her father and preventing a civil war, our court will have lands in the Untouched Zones, and our claim on the throne will once again be ironclad.”
“Any powers I possess will be used to raise the Darken.”
“Perhaps. Although I have yet to see any evidence that Prince Hellebore is in league with my father.”
“That’s because you betrayed your son before he could find it!”
He picks at a fleck on his tunic, ignoring me.
“He’ll never forgive you,” I whisper.
“Forgive?” The Winter King arches a bored brow. “Such a mortal concept, forgiveness. He will be upset . . . but after you marry the Spring Prince and the bond between you and my son withers into a distant memory, he will come around. And if he doesn’t, well, perhaps Hellebore can explain.”
Hellebore lovingly finishes depositing his spiders into a small silver box lined with black velvet before turning to me. “Do you know why the Bloodstar flower is so effective? Besides being the most lethal poison in existence, it’s the most rare, and the cure almost non-existent.”
“You bastard.”
“There is an antidote that will prevent the poison from taking hold for a time, and if the Winter Prince and his friends behave, it will be administered every seven days.”
