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His I’m-special-just-because aura is nauseating. Especially as he casually rests his hands in his pockets, looks at the crowd, and curls his lips into a sensual smile.
And, whoa, that grin is like watching a flower bloom. Even the teachers seem to melt a little, male and female.
“Sweet baby Faeries,” Ruby whispers into my ear. “That boy can water my garden any day.”
Before I can help myself, a laugh trickles from my throat.
Prince Hellebore’s blue eyes slide to meet mine. They linger just long enough to ignite my insides before sweeping over the crowd.
“Students of Evermore Academy.” The arrogant, syrupy drawl is exactly what you’d expect from a spoiled Spring Court prince. “Thank you for opening your school to the students of Whitehall. I know, in the past, we’ve been adversaries, but I think we can all agree the darkling infestation is a common enemy.”
Growling, Eclipsa storms off, the violence seething from her willowy figure sending the nearest Evermore careening back, as far away from the enraged assassin as possible.
I watch her rip open a portal and disappear. There’s definitely a story there. Resolved to ask her about it later, I search the crowd for Inara and her deranged crew, but they’re missing.
Maybe the prince killed them after all. A girl can hope.
I take another, harder look at the Spring Court Prince, trying to reconcile the charming, laidback male on the podium with someone who could single-handedly disarm the Six. Full sleeve tats cover both forearms, an intricate pattern of vining flowers that must have taken weeks to create.
On any other male, flowers would look ridiculous, but not on Prince Hellebore. He possesses the natural beauty of the Fae. Large, seductive sky-blue eyes. Sharp, elegant features. Full, entirely too-kissable lips.
Every detail is constructed like plants in a garden to work harmoniously together to . . . what?
Lure people in? Disarm them?
For some reason, I think about Valerian. Whereas the ice prince’s beauty is disconcerting, almost overwhelming, Hellebore’s is soothing, Venus flytrap style.
He reminds me of the tale of the Fae who appears near the Shimmer and lures mortal girls away with his promise of love only to cage them in glass, like butterflies pinned to a board.
“For the most part,” Prince Hellebore continues, “I want to honor your traditions. But, considering the incident with the shadow who turned darkling, I’m implementing a few . . . changes.”
Again, his near-turquoise eyes alight on me, their unnatural brightness unnerving. Is he seriously staring at me again?
The subtle tick of his lips confirms my paranoia that he is, in fact, speaking directly to me. “At Whitehall Academy, shadows are expected to meet the highest of standards. But, more importantly, they are supposed to know their place. What I’ve witnessed implies the opposite. Your shadows are defiant. Untrained. Undisciplined. A few even managed to bypass the rigorous acceptance standards to gain a coveted spot here.”
Whoa. Now there’s no doubt he’s talking about me. His gaze lingers, long enough for whispers to grow and my cheeks to flame with embarrassment.
Mother trucker.
“From this day forward, shadows must earn their spot in a series of trials.”
Dread fills my veins as I look at Mack. Her face is pinched, mirroring my growing worry.
Yells erupt as the Evermore students react to that bombshell. Most are, if not fond of their shadows, used to us and the many benefits we bring.
“What gives you the right to come here and make new rules?” a dark haired Unseelie quips. I recognize her as one of Inara’s friends.
Hellebore doesn’t even look at the girl as he says, “The laws of your academy, actually. Right, Headmistress Lepidonis?”
The Headmistress gives a pained nod. “The covenants say the ruling Evermore of the current season can make changes to the academy, as long as they do not go against the bylaws or unduly favor their court.”
My stomach clenches . . . then plummets as he returns his focus to me, his lips twitching cruelly at the corners. “Another thing. Shadows caught sleeping with the Evermore for favors will be branded a Fae whore and treated as such.”
My mouth goes paper dry. The options for a shadow after being labeled a Fae whore are cringy at best. Most end up on the front lines, used to entertain the Fae soldiers, or in the Winter King’s clubs after he buys out their contracts.
I don’t know which option is worse. Moreover, I can’t understand why the human world would even entertain letting creatures like the Fae reside in their cities when such travesties still happen.
I have to think most of the human world doesn’t know. They tried to erase my memories of this place when I was expelled, so they probably do that to most human Shadows that survive.
