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I barely swallow down my chuckle. There’s so much about mortal culture he doesn’t know still.
Asher draws his muscular body into a bakasana pose with an ease that startles me and mutters, “Because I didn’t try to eviscerate her a few nights ago, so I get the cute kitty while you get the pink lumpy creature.”
Frowning, Valerian begins to stretch. I do the same, willing my limbs to stop trembling, my breath to even out. The feet between us feel like inches. The aura from his presence seeping across the space and into my bones.
Sweat slicks my palms as I perform a downward dog pose. Sweet Baby Jesus, if I’d known my butt was going to be in his face, I’d have worn my loose sweatpants instead of my skin-tight black leggings. ian is still as he watches me, quiet, his face twisted in conflict, as if he wants to help but is afraid I’ll hate him.
Do I? As soon as the question comes, I know I could never hate him. Never. And yet, the thing between us that I felt, the thing that made me lose all reason, terrifies me now more than ever.
Eclipsa gives me a knowing look as she approaches. “Prince, we need to get her back to the ceremony to finalize the Selection.”
“No,” I say. “If I’m going to let myself be traipsed in front of the entire academy like a pet on a leash, I need some answers.”
Once again, Valerian’s gaze flicks to the chain between us. Just another reminder of his claim over me. Our eyes meet, and I see the apology inside those silver pools—along with that smoldering fire of possessiveness that promises what he said was true.
He would burn the Everwilde to the ground to protect me, to keep me.
Eclipsa raises a silver eyebrow. “Answers about what, exactly?”
“Why the Winter Prince had to leave so suddenly before school started, for starters.” My hand hovers over my heart, where the power seemed to come from earlier. “Also, I think I might have used magic somehow.”
They share a look, their expressions not matching my surprise. Did they suspect that might happen?
Something passes between Eclipsa and Valerian, and then Eclipsa turns to me. “We’ll tell you everything, I promise. But not right now. Your friend is worried, and until you’re back at the Selection ceremony, you’re fair game. Any Evermore could fight the Winter Prince for you.”
My stomach sinks at the thought of Inara or Hellebore claiming me. “Fine, but I want to know by the end of the weekend, especially since I suspect whatever caused him to leave involves me.”
I threw that last bit in on a whim, but the way Eclipsa’s mouth tightens, I know I hit on the truth.
Crap.
The portal Valerian forms illuminates the air, the silver-blue edges the same color as his eyes. I follow him through the magical disk, resisting the urge to grip the collar around my neck. He’s careful to leave enough slack that I don’t choke, but I still feel like I’m gasping to breathe.
On the other side, I lift my head high.
The Evermore might have found yet another way to humiliate and demean us, but I won’t let it break me.
16
My phone is facedown on my bed next to where I’m sprawled, books open around me.
“ILB?” Mack asks as she hops down from the top bunk and pads to the bar cart in the corner of our room.
I never told her what happened Friday night in the cave, other than that Inara tried to murder me and then Valerian saved me. But my best friend’s perceptive—and also stubborn as hell—and she hasn’t stopped prying for details.
I check the phone, ignoring the tug of disappointment when I realize it’s not Valerian, but Eclipsa. She wants me to meet her at the gym in an hour.
Time to learn why Valerian was in the Winter Court and just how effed my life is about to get. I mean, I assumed it couldn’t get much worse—but I forgot the rule while living in the Everwilde.
For mortals, there’s always worse.
Today, I’m just a girl technically enslaved to my soulmate and singled out by the Evermore students. Bad . . . sure. But tomorrow I could find myself fighting in the scourge or chained to a stage in a skeevy club owned by Valerian’s dad.
“Silver linings,” I mutter.
“What?” Mack calls over her shoulder. She’s fumbling around with a coffee filter, trying to figure out where to insert it in our new coffee maker. “Hey, how do you foam the milk for the latte?”
I swallow down my chuckle. The expensive espresso machine—named George for George Michael, her favorite singer—is the latest victim of Mack’s new resolution to live like regular students.
