I snort, wild laughter bursting from my throat. “To take me? Yeah, to a bookstore so I can buy you a book on better pickup lines.”

“You’re cheerful, for someone who no longer has a future.”

“Bullshit, you can’t touch me without permission.”

“You’re right. I can’t physically touch you.” His voice is softer now, teasing, like he’s my lover and not a wacko forcing me into a weird roleplay game.

Ignoring his insane voice, I focus on Valerian. The teachers are working now to try and undo the spell, but Valerian has stopped, his eyes holding mine, willing me to be brave as he mouths, I’ll come for you.

Oh, God, that means . . .

I don’t even see the portal open up, but suddenly, Valerian and the others just disappear. I’m in a . . . garden. The same one Hellebore took me to last time.

The cloying scent of magic fills the air and then vines of jasmine, honeysuckle, and ivy shoot from the cobblestone path, sprouting and twisting into an elaborate cage that walls us off from the rest of the world.

And then, just to show off, I assume, the flowery cage lifts into the air, drawn by a swarm of thousands upon thousands of monarch butterflies.

Meaning no one can see us. Meaning I’m now alone and defenseless against this raging sociopath, who’s obviously decided he no longer cares if I’m protected.

Weapon! Before I can so much as turn around or go for my sword, tendrils of ivy wrap around my wrists and waist, and I’m jerked around to face Hellebore. The vines wind tighter and tighter around my flesh until I’m immobilized against the cage, unable to move. Pinned like a butterfly to a board.

I open my mouth to fling an insult his way, but he shakes his head, a stupid little smile on his face. “Say one more thing I don’t like and I’ll gag you, understood?”

His eyes flick down as Ruby bursts from my vest, a war cry on her lips. Something flashes to my right, and Hellebore’s sprite appears from seemingly mid-air.

I watch the two tumble through the spaces between our cage of jasmine and ivy and disappear.

“Now, where were we?” he asks smugly, knowing he has all the time in the world to torture me. This is his land. It might be infected with the scourge, but it still gives him incredibly strong powers. “Oh, yes. Touching you. I may not be able to physically touch you without your permission, but, as you can see, that doesn’t really matter. Besides, I find everyone gives me permission eventually . . . when asked the right way.”

I thought I hated Inara. I thought between the loathing I felt for her and Cal, I would never despise someone more than I do them.

But the murderous, blinding rage I feel for Hellebore in this moment burns so hot that I fear I’ll burst into flames.

He takes one look at the wild fury in my eyes and draws closer, a moth to my fiery hatred.

My heart jackknifes into my sternum as, slowly, intentionally, he plants his hands on either side of my head. He’s so close I can smell his scent over the sweet perfume of jasmine and honeysuckle, a mix of verbena, lilies, and fresh rain.

When he’s so close that I’m sure he’s going to brush against me, his body halts mere millimeters from mine. “There’s that fire I see burning inside you, that raw, untamed pride that flashes in your eyes whenever they tease you, begging to be stamped out.”

I strain against the vines circling up my arms like the elaborate cuffs some Evermore wear. If only I could reach my sword, I would eviscerate this jackass.

My knee, on the other hand, is free—

As soon as the thought comes, I go to drive it up into his man goods and then—crap.

I almost touched him. I jerk my leg back, embarrassed at my rash stupidity.

The bastard actually has the audacity to laugh, his sweet breath spilling over my face. “Go ahead. No?”

Twisting sideways, he drives his leg between mine, forming another type of cage around me, one of flesh and bone and poisonous magic.

If I struggle or move at all, I’ll accidentally make contact with him.

Bad—this is bad. The moisture shrivels from my mouth. I can almost feel the carnal magic seeping from his skin, begging me to invite it inside me.

If I don’t do something, I’ll lose control.

“They all saw you take me,” I breathe. “They’ll be coming for me.”

“Who will? Your Ice Prince? The idiot professors who tremble when I merely pass by them in the halls?”

“He’ll come for me,” I stupidly insist, as if repeating it will make it true.

His eyes slowly trail down my body, his devouring gaze burning where it lingers, just as real as if it were his fingers. “I can see why he wants to keep you as his pet. You’re decently made, for a mortal, and your fiery temper coupled with that strange doe-eyed innocence would make taming you a rather enjoyable endeavor—but you’re hardly worth a war.”

“A war?” I swallow, remembering Eclipsa’s words—but no, she also said I was Valerian’s property, and as much as I hate that term, it means I’m off limits. “You’re the one causing a war.”

He runs a finger down the outline of my arm, almost—but not quite—making contact with my flesh. The tangled vine wall I’m pressed against shivers at his touch, as does my skin. “You are so out of your depth at this school, Summer, that you don’t even realize you’re already caught in my web. You were the moment the Winter Prince used his magic to save you.”

My relief that he thinks the magic came from Valerian gives way to panic as I realize what he means.

“So he used his magic and now . . . I’m expelled.” My throat tightens with emotion as that disappointment sinks in, but I lift my chin, determined to not let him see my pain. “But I still belong to the Winter Prince.”

“Actually, that’s not entirely true. Did you know if an Evermore is caught cheating in the gauntlet, it’s seen as an affront to the hosting court? By the law of Fae and the academy, I can demand recompense of my choosing equal to or less than the value of such an affront. And the value of a Fae slave isn’t very much, just below, say, a well-made pair of shoes.”

Lying bastard!

If my hands were free, I’d gouge out his eyes. Instead, I desperately scan his face for hints that he’s bluffing, but the horrible smile on his face confirms he’s telling the truth.

No. Being owned by Hellebore would be its own special hell. The red room of pain Ruby mentioned flashes in my mind. And Zinnia, oh, God, she’s back at the academy waiting for me.

If I don’t show up . . .

A wave of nausea hits as I imagine her trying to find out what happened to me. Imagine her reliving her daughter’s disappearance as she mourns mine. She’ll never forgive herself for not stopping me from coming back here.

Never.

Knowing my panic would only feed his depravity, I manage to hide my anguish behind a hard smile. “The Winter Prince would never let you take me.”

The vines around my arm tighten, cutting off my circulation.

“Which is exactly why I would. I could drag you away to my home in the Spring Court and no one would bat an eye . . . but the Winter Prince, I see now that he would go to battle for you. Unfortunately for him, his court’s influence is already waning. If he dragged his kingdom to war over one trivial mortal slave . . . well, he would lose everything.”

I know what he says is true. The Fae courts are brutal, and power between them is a delicate, volatile thing. Being too attached to something without inherent value would be seen as weak.

In the Everwilde, weakness is blood in the water.

Think. Hellebore might technically be able to kidnap me, but he hasn’t done it yet. Instead, he’s toying with me. There has to be a reason why.

I glare at him, building up the courage to goad him and call his bluff. “Fine. Throw me in your red room of pain or whatever the frick it’s called, you pervert.”

Amusement sparks inside his vibrant blue eyes. Eyes too bright, too unnatural to be human. “If I wanted you in my red room of pain, as you call it, you’d already be there. But you’re right. As much fun as keeping you locked away at my private disposal would be, I enjoy watching you squirm at the academy more. You’re like a baby rabbit trapped in a cage full of wolves, hoping that if you just stay really still, no one will eat you.”

Wow. This freaking guy. I would make some wisecrack about his poor use of metaphors, but he’s dead serious, which is only kind of alarming. “Then all of this . . .?” A chill scrapes down my spine as his true intentions become clear. “You want to make a bargain.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, I know I’m screwed.

So unbelievably screwed.

Fae bargains are notoriously one sided. There’s an entire third year course dedicated to teaching mortals how to navigate them, and shadows that major in Fae law and specialize in bargains are a burgeoning field in New York and other Fae hotspots.

True Fae bargains are bound by powerful magic that cannot be undone. Ever.

Which is why more than one mortal has gone to a bar near the Shimmer and woken up hungover and bound to the Fae for a lifetime, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“Just a trivial one,” he assures me, his voice slow and rich and seductive, a trick the Fae use to mesmerize us into complacency. “Agree and I will convince the school that another Winter Court Evermore used their powers to save you. You won’t be expelled. You’ll still be property of the Winter Prince, and he won’t go to war over you. All in all, you will gain more than I in this deal.”

Liar. Everything inside me screams to deny him immediately. But if his bargain means I can stay at the school and Valerian doesn’t suffer . . .

“What would you require in return?” A heavy feeling settles over me as soon as I ask the question.

“A small thing, really.” His lips curl at the edges, but my focus is riveted to his eyes and the darkness that simmers there, a kind of cold cruelty that burrows deep into my core. “Let me touch you.”