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“What the Fae hells were you doing, Summer?”
I stumble back from the anger in Eclipsa’s voice. “Me? Someone let the griffin out on purpose.”
“Stop making excuses. Don’t you understand? You cannot slip up now, not even once. This year is different. There are things happening beyond our control.”
“What things?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Does it involve whatever Valerian is doing in the Winter Court?”
She sighs through her teeth. “I can’t talk about that. Just stop drawing attention to yourself. Especially now . . .”
I glean the last part of her sentence that she omitted. Especially now that Hellebore’s here.
“Can we please discuss the fact that the Spring Court Prince just kidnapped me and turned full-bore psycho?”
“What’s to discuss? He was toying with you, Summer. Because he can. Because his sadistic urges needed quenching. Because he wanted to see what your fear smells like. Who freaking knows? It doesn’t matter why. You don’t want someone like him taking an interest in you, believe me. So no more mistakes.”
Behind the fury in her eyes, I make out expertly hidden pain. The kind that scars the soul and never quite goes away, no matter how deep you bury it. The need to comfort my friend wars with the instinct to lash out at the unfairness of blaming me for Hellebore’s actions.
In the end, this shitshow of a morning wins out, and my frustration boils over. “Eclipsa, I’m trying, okay? This year is so much harder than I thought it would be. I can’t sleep. Every night I have these horrible nightmares. Valerian’s nightmares, I think. Or his memories, I don’t know.”
She blinks. My heart sinks at the pity in her eyes. “What you’re experiencing, I think it’s because of the soulbond.”
“Is that normal?”
“Not for most mates, no. But the strength of the soulbond is directly related to a couple’s combined magic. Considering both you and Valerian possess powers only rivaled by the Darken . . . we have no idea how the bond will react. Especially the longer you resist it.”
“So I could potentially relive his memories for a lifetime?”
Eclipsa’s face softens. “Something happened recently that has brought some of Valerian’s past traumas back to the surface. I wouldn’t be surprised if, as his mate, you were subconsciously taking those resurfaced memories from him somehow. Bearing them so he doesn’t have to. I doubt he’s even aware that you’re doing it.”
For some reason, just knowing that I’m purposefully taking on those traumas—even if it’s a subconscious decision—makes the nightmares easier to stomach.
“I know you don’t see it this way, but the bond you share with the Winter Prince is precious, something most Fae would kill for. You should cherish it.”
As we leave the ruined garden, I wonder if I’ll ever view the soulbond tying me to Valerian the way Eclipsa does, or if it will always feel like the brand tattooed into my flesh: a mark of my complete powerlessness in this wild and beautiful world.
11
Headmistress Luna Lepidonis’s office is exactly like I remember. Small, orderly, filled with filing cabinets and dust. A mahogany desk basks in the red and blue light of the three stained-glass windows behind it.
The headmistress has her back turned to me. The edges of her powdery beige wings furl and unfurl. I notice the tips are fringed with black, as are the outside of the pale green dots at the apex of her wings.
She turns, clicking her tongue as she stares down her long nose at me. “Summer Solstice, how is it you’re already here in my office on the second day of school?”
I shrug where I sit cross-legged in the comfy club chair in front of her desk. My clothes are mostly dry, but I stink like lake water.
Yet another day arriving late to class a hot mess and a half.
“I was clear, was I not, about the rules of your reinstatement as a shadow?”
My hands are balled into fists on my thighs. From the time I left Eclipsa to get changed, only to be called here, I’ve been reliving this morning and the encounter with douche-face. Every time his smug, too-pretty face pops into my mind, my anger mounts.
Heaving out a ragged breath, I force my hands to relax. “You were clear, but this morning wasn’t my fault. Someone released the griffin.”
She absentmindedly strokes the edge of one of her wings. “Fault is a mortal construct.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
“Fair? Do you need a lesson on our race, Miss Solstice? Neither fault nor fairness are qualities we give much credence to. I would have assumed you understood that by now.”
