Spring

“Dad!” Mack screams as Nick and Sebastian shove to the front. They’re waving Seelie flags and blowing kisses at Mack. Sebastian holds a sign he had printed with her full name on it.

I go to wave at them and then freeze.

Is that . . . I take in the short plump woman with the mess of wild curls sticking out from beneath a cowboy hat in the middle of Mack’s dads.

How is that possible?

“Zinnia?” I cry. My words are lost to the cheers of the audience, but just seeing her here fills me with unexpected hope.

Her eyes shimmer with pride as she mouths, You can do this.

Mack leans into my ear. “Nick invited your aunts. Sorry, I would have told you but my dads wanted it to be a surprise. Everything has to be dramatic with them.”

Both aunts? Which means . . .

I exhale. Vi didn’t come.

Pushing aside my disappointment, I focus on Zinnia as a sudden calm descends. Win or lose, she’ll be here to comfort me. I feel like I’m nine again, kidnapped and about to be trafficked to the Fae, looking into her kind face through my cage bars as she promises me everything will work out.

Back then, I was too broken to trust what she said was true.

This time, I allow myself to believe her.

I can do this.

The cheers of the crowd grow softer as we near the fiery ring of portals. The flames stoke something inside me, not quite true fear—more like a bizarre mixture of adrenaline, dread, and excitement.

“Get ready for whatever dark, twisted games the Spring Prince concocted,” Mack warns as I approach the nearest portal, waiting for the girl in front of me to jump through. “Our Keepers will be on the other side.”

They’ve already explained the rules, which didn’t take long because there’s only three.

One, Keepers can’t use magic.

Two, protect our Keeper at all cost.

Three, make it to the safe zone unscathed by sunrise.

“Oh, God,” Kyler whispers behind her. “This is really happening.”

Damn right it is. And I’m going to make sure I don’t just survive, but win.

Whatever it takes.

21

As soon as we land on the other side, the portals flame out, trapping us here—wherever that is. A quick glance around shows we’re on some sort of small island surrounded by a huge urban city.

Professor Crenshaw is here, and she and Mr. Willis go around checking our equipment and GPS devices while Mrs. Richter gives us a speech. “As a shadow, one of the scenarios you might find yourself in is an extraction situation where your Keeper is injured inside an area taken by darklings. Your Keepers are positioned around the city. You have until sunrise to find yours and escort them to the safety zone on the map.”

Kyler raises her hand. “What are the glowing red dots on our GPS devices?”

I glance down at mine, startled to discover clusters of bright red specks moving around the city.

Mrs. Richter’s eyes narrow. “Those are darklings.” She waits until the crowd quiets and adds, “Each of you will see a white circle to indicate the location of your Keeper. The faint green dots are special weapons imbued with magic.”

Disappointment hits when I see there are only ten or so magical weapons available—not nearly enough for even half of us—and they’re all stashed in the most heavily infested darkling clusters.

“Remember,” she continues, “Keepers and sprites must not use even a hint of magic. Any caught doing so will result in their shadow’s immediate expulsion, and permanent marks will go on your Keeper’s record.”

Mr. Willis addresses us next. “The gauntlet will push all of you to your breaking point, but I believe every one of you are capable of passing if you stay calm and remember your training. Don’t forget, this isn’t simply about your skill with a weapon. You’re being tested on strategy, thinking under pressure, and, most importantly, your ability to work with your Keeper—which all mortals know can be like dealing with a child sometimes.”

Nervous laughter ripples through the group. We’ve never heard any instructor dare to openly criticize the Fae like this, but these are special circumstances.

“Years of successfully guarding the Fae have shown me that the most successful shadows are experts at reading their Keeper. You have to know when to take over control of the situation to protect your Keeper, and when it’s safe to let them join the fight. At least, just enough to smooth over that fragile ego they all have.”

More chuckles.

“It’s a dance,” he finishes. “A skillful shadow can find the right balance to sync with their Keepers—and when that happens, let me tell you, it possesses a magic of its own.” His eyes turn serious, and he sweeps his kind but firm gaze over all of us in turn. “May the luck of Queen Titania be with you all.”

As soon as both instructors leave, I scour the island. It’s night here as well, the sky veiled in ominous gray clouds that block out the stars and moon. Around us, high rise marble buildings the Fae prefer stand next to older brick complexes that look more like apartments.

So we’re in a turned city, like Evernell, which used to be Las Vegas and is now some Frankenstein of both Fae and mortal worlds. A tug on my belt draws my eye to Ruby, who’s trying to lift the GPS.

Mack already has her own out, and she gasps. “No, we’re in . . . Lumeria.”

Ruby hisses. “Orc balls, we won’t last the night.”

Some of the others must have already figured out the same because gasps fill the air.

“What’s Lumeria?” I ask, praying it’s not as bad as they’re making it.

Mack slips her GPS back onto her belt and fixes me with a determined stare. “Only the most modern and famous city in the Spring Court territories. Or it used to be . . . before the wards fell and darklings infested the place, driving out all the residents. Now it’s scourge-touched, infected with basically everything that can and will kill us. Darklings, orcs, trolls, dark magic.”

I nod, forcing the fear from my chest. “Okay, we knew it was going to be tough. Let’s not panic.”

Ruby snorts, but I ignore her as I look over my own map. The landmarks dredge up a sense of familiarity.

The Washington Monument. United States Capitol. The old White House . . .

“Holy Fae hells,” I murmur. “This is . . .”

“Welcome to the former capital of the United States of America,” Mack says, sweeping her arm out to indicate the rising skyline in the distance.

Washington freaking D.C. Just being here, witnessing the city that used to represent the height of our world’s power before the Lightmare, is enough to make me feel lightheaded. Out of all the territories affected by the Lightmare, it was losing Capitol Hill and most of our regulatory body that nearly destroyed our country.

And now the Fae have lost it as well. A part of me is bitterly glad about that.

At least, until we set off as a group toward the shadowy city.

Mack immediately designated herself the map reader, and she spouts off directions as we all jog across the metal bridge connecting the island to the mainland. Thankfully, most of the darkling clusters are concentrated south of where the Keepers are stashed. A few dark shapes flicker in the distance, scuttling across empty highways and over guardrails.

As long as we’re quiet, the darklings won’t be attracted to us. Once we’re with our Fae Keepers, though, things will change.

“Asher and the Winter Prince are together,” Mack pants as we halt near the end of the bridge. “But we’ll have to break off from the group.”

I swallow, not loving that idea.

Cruel laughter draws my attention to Reina. She’s with the twin boys and a few other Unseelie shadows. “Careful, Puke Breath. I hear orcs are attracted to certain types of stench.”

I turn around, not even bothering with a response.

“Afraid?” Reina taunts.

Without turning, I say, “No, I just have a policy not to feed trolls.”

Mack grins as we break into a jog down the closest street on our left, headed deep into a residential block of condos and luxury townhomes. I flick my gaze over the dark landscape, taking everything in. I imagine this place was gorgeous before the darklings overran it.

Just like the Spring Court palace, wisteria and jasmine drape the buildings in veils of bright colors. The homes are a mishmash of mortal and Fae architecture, the contrasting styles a collision of cultures that somehow works.

But there’s something . . . off about the air. A whisper of death and decay woven into the fabric of this place.

Even worse than the stench is the unnatural quiet.

Cities are loud, thriving organisms. Even in the residential areas, the sounds of car engines revving, children playing in the streets, and birds singing hint at life.

This place hints at the opposite, and I shudder at the thought that someday, if we don’t find a way to stop it, the scourge could completely infest our world.

Mack and I jog silently down an alleyway and burst out into the final street that leads to Asher and Valerian. They’re stashed in a collection of overpriced high-rises centered around a circular park.

As we prepare to take the concrete stairs to the third floor where the map says they are, Mack points at the churning red mass in the gardens on the other side of us.

Holy. Frick.

Finger to my lips, we pad to the door and—

The door cracks, and Asher’s handsome mug grins down at us. “Ladies.” Someone managed to find a protective gray vest that fits his giant frame, and it hangs over a black long-sleeved shirt that barely contains his bulging muscles.

His too-bright dragon eyes instantly slide to Mack as he opens the door for us. “Welcome to darkling hell.”

I follow Mack inside the dim apartment, lit only by a single flickering bulb on a side table in the living room. The place is small but gorgeous, all white stone and steel fixtures and giant windows overlooking the park.

That’s where I find Valerian. Like Asher, he’s clad in dark clothes and a vest, his midnight blue hair nearly the same black shade beneath the meager light.