Spring

That seems rather stupid, considering how dangerous darklings can be. Then again, in my experience so far, the Fae have proven their mindless cruelty trumps their cleverness.

The headmistress clears her throat. Dragging my eyes from the files, I scramble from the room just as Mr. Willis enters. He gives me a kind nod before shutting the door. A lock clicks behind me.

Which of course immediately piques my curiosity. As quietly as possible, I press my ear to the door crack.

Muffled voices filter through. “Should have expelled her anyway,” Mr. Willis is saying.

Thanks a lot, buddy.

“The prince expressly forbade it!” the headmistress snaps. From the soft footsteps, she’s pacing.

Valerian intervened. I knew it.

Their voices grow dimmer. I press harder into the door, side-eyeing the top of the stairs in case someone appears.

I catch Mr. Willis’s gruff voice as he says, “You know why. He wants to torture her. I’ve heard the rumors about Whitehall, so have you. By letting him into the academy, I fear we’ve let a fox into the henhouse.”

Okay, they’re not talking about Valerian anymore.

The pacing stops. “I couldn’t say no, you know that. Without the Spring Court’s influence, they would have shut down the academy.”

“Yes,” Mr. Willis growls before lowering his voice. “But we still haven’t determined why Prince Hellebore is really here. The scourge has invaded the Spring lands, but the academy has enough wards that it would have been protected.”

Prince Hellebore? They’re talking about that inflated prick? What the heck? Which means . . . he’s the one responsible for me not being expelled.

Because he’s not done toying with me yet.

A small grunt slips from my throat. The room goes quiet. Stupid Fae hearing!

Footsteps pound toward the door. My heart slams into my throat as I leap down the stairs four at a time, nearly crippling myself in the process. I don’t stop running until I’m in the familiar halls of the mortal floors.

My mind is all over the place as I rush to my locker where Mack left my school bag. I keep going over this morning. Nearly dying. Mack and Ruby being put in danger along with the entire school. Being abducted and probably almost murdered by the Spring Court douchebag. Eclipsa’s hurtful words.

All of it swirls around my skull, a depressing reminder of how screwed I am.

I was determined to fight back and win my place here, no matter the cost, so I can protect humans from the Fae. But what if by being here, I’m putting mortals in more danger?

12

“Stop attacking your dress and let it do its job,” Mack orders.

“Which is what, exactly?” I ask as I halt, mid-yanking down the hem of the offending baby blue dress. It’s Mack’s, and I didn’t figure in our height difference when I asked to borrow it for the Selection ceremony. Even when I’m standing perfectly straight, the light, flowy fabric barely covers my ass. “To show off my hoo-ha?”

“No, to show off your long, gorgeous legs.”

“And stop walking like you’ve got a brownie wand stuck up your ass,” Ruby scolds, alighting on my shoulder.

I sigh. I’m one bend away from flashing the school my lady bits. “Guess I won’t be sitting down anytime soon.”

Mack gouges her elbow into my side. “Aren’t you glad I insisted we do laundry last night? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be wearing underwear.”

Yesterday, after Reina cracked some joke in class about Mack only passing because her dads donate generously to the school and spoil her rotten, Mack flipped. She swore for the rest of the year, she’s not relying on any of their money to get by.

Which, unfortunately, means no more laundry service. Both of us spent a good hour washing our clothes in the bathroom sink.

Ruby cackles. “Who knew that bizarre mortal contraption you insist on wearing would come in handy?”

And . . . I was today years old when I discovered my sprite doesn’t wear underwear.

I follow behind Mack as she joins a group of students entering the courtyard. On instinct, I scour the yard, searching for huddled groups whispering in my direction.

Tonight, though, I’m not even a blip on people’s radar. The entire school thrums with excitement as they wait to see what the new Selection ceremony will be like.

Forcing my shoulders back, I push my paranoia aside. Maybe people have forgotten about me. Since the incident with the griffin, I’ve managed to remain low-key. I train with Eclipsa, go to class, and then return to our dorms to study.

Soft fluttering lights draw my attention to the courtyard. Butterflies swoop from the air, their wings glowing pale pink and yellow. Refreshments in crystal flutes are laid out on crisp linen tables. After the last incident, no one actually drinks the beverages, but still.

As much as I despise Hellebore, this year’s Selection ceremony is way better than last year’s. At least, so far.

No one’s forced us into a cage and then tried to drown us, so that’s something, right?

Mack chews her bottom lip as she spins around, the crisp white empire dress she wears nipping at her ankles. Her sprite weaved miniature pink and yellow roses in her french-braided hair. “Where are all the Evermore students?”

Ruby flits annoyingly around my face before settling on top of my head. We’re definitely having a chat about personal space later.

“Probably on the other side of that giant portal they’re herding you through,” Ruby says casually.

Portal? Not another one. Cool sweat streaks down my shoulder blades and plasters my dress to my back as I follow the others through the magical doorway. It’s only after I enter the other side that I recall the fences used to slowly force cattle into smaller and smaller chutes until they’re trapped.

A burst of colors, heady floral scents, and birdsong assault my senses. Dragging in a lungful of the sticky-sweet air, I turn in a slow circle as Mack whispers, “We’re in the Spring Court.”

I blink against this too-vibrant world. The clear blue sky, the same unnervingly turquoise shade as Hellebore’s eyes, crowns a verdant landscape of hills and lakes. Every inch of land bursts with greenery and flowers—a kaleidoscope of tulips, irises, and lilies.

Dusk is fast approaching, its pink and gold tendrils slithering over the land.

They march us down a worn path lined with hyacinth and cherry trees, their soft white petals swirling around us like snow. At the bottom of the sloping meadow rises a palace made from rose-quartz, the domed structure veined with every manner of flowering vine.

“The Spring Court Palace,” Ruby announces, as if we haven’t already figured that out. “I hear Prince Hellebore has a red room of pain deep inside the palace.”

“A what?” I mutter, following the shadows in front of me up the wide marble stairs to a courtyard with four huge ivory gazebos on opposite corners. Evermore mill about beneath the shaded structures.

“You know.” Ruby launches in front of my face, her eyebrows waggling suggestively as she rocks her hips in the air. “The place where he keeps his toys.”

I blink, swallow. Hoping toys doesn’t refer to mortals.

“Ask that Lunar assassin you train with, Kid,” Ruby adds. “She’ll explain.”

Oh, geez. How involved were Hellebore and Eclipsa?

Magus and the others begin separating us into three groups. The second year and beyond mortals who already have keepers are placed into Seelie or Unseelie sides. The first year shadows without keepers go in the middle. My heart tugs as I watch the first years nervously clump together, their huge eyes darting over the Evermore.

I throw Mack one last fleeting look before we part. She joins our friends on the Seelie side, while I’m forced to squeeze into the Unseelie crowd.

I make sure I’m on opposite sides of Reina and her crew before returning my focus to the gazebos. Clematis the size of my hands adorn the structures. The blooms are different colors for each quadrant: pink, ice-blue, an unusual green, and burnt orange.

“They’re grouped by seasonal courts,” I say aloud. Inside each gazebo, luxuriously dressed Evermore sit on . . . thrones.

“Oh, crap,” I hiss, halting so abruptly a boy runs into me from behind. “Is that—”

“The Winter King,” Ruby finishes.

My blood goes cold as I scan the Fae inside. The Winter King and Queen occupy frosty thrones of ice. Inara stands with her parents beside them. And next to her—

A spike of excitement slams through my heart as I take in Valerian. His thick ink-blue hair has that familiar just-stumbled-from-bed messiness, his sensual lips tilted in a lazy smile that doesn’t quite reach his silver eyes.

My body reacts with such fervor at his presence that I bite my cheek to tamp it down. As if he can feel my reaction, his bored gaze slides to me. Catches.

I thought I couldn’t want him any more. But the moment our eyes meet, a chasm of need breaks open inside me—

I rip my gaze away and focus on my toes. The black lacquer Mack insisted on applying sparkles softly.

Yes, focus on your toes. Toes aren’t sexy. They’re weird, that’s why we paint them.

Images of Valerian’s bare feet from our one night together pop uninvited into my head . . . except they’re not weird at all, but masculine and beautiful.

Get a hold of yourself, Summer!

I drag my attention away from Valerian, looking for something else—anything else to focus on. Beneath the Spring Court pavilion, Hellebore leans casually against a throne made of thick, tangled wisteria vines, obviously too cool to sit in the thing. The giant lavender buds match his silky purple shirt. Spring insects hover around their gazebo. Giant jewel-toned dragonflies, blue and yellow butterflies, and fat bumblebees.

His sister, Freesia, is dressed in similar colors. Beside her, their aunt, the Spring Court Queen, sits erect in a throne made from an enormous buttery-gold daffodil.

The sun seems to set all at once, bathing the courtyard in delicate champagne light. As if on cue, Cronus takes the stage that’s been erected in the center of the platform.