Spring

Hmm. Given the meticulous way the other folders are named, that seems odd. Curiosity piqued, I yank the folder from the drawer and quickly spread it across the dusty, faded emerald rug. Evelyn’s picture is the first one on the top, affixed to her file by a paperclip.

I don’t even check the rest. I don’t have time. With the blank file’s contents spread out on the floor, I snap pictures of each one as fast as humanly possible. First the photo and then the actual paperwork.

There are so, so many. Enough that I start to worry this is a dead end because no way could this many students become pregnant without mortals noticing and raising the alarm. Right?

I’m just finishing with the last file of a beaming girl with bright, hopeful eyes—eyes so sure this academy will change her life and fulfill her dreams—when I hear Ruby belt out Dance, Dance by Fall Out Boy.

A scream follows.

Oh, boy. That man has some major issues. Cramming the papers and photos back into the file, I manage to get it back into the drawer and dart to my chair before the interviewer practically falls into the office to get away from Ruby.

The man spins around, his face so red I’m worried he’s having a heart attack. I watch in disappointment as all the coffee he brought me flies out of the cup and onto the floor.

He points a shaking finger at me. “You—this . . . you!”

I get to my feet, ignoring Ruby in the open door frame, who’s alternating between giving me the thumbs up and high-fiving herself. “Are you okay?”

“Get out,” he pants. “This interview is over.”

Relieved and a little high on getting away with such a risky and impulsive act, I dart out the door, taking the stairs two at a time. Ruby settles happily on my shoulder. She laughs, the tinkling sound like music to my heart.

“Don’t ever say I don’t need you, Ruby.”

“But you—”

“No.” I halt on the stairs and look her in the eyes. “You’re my friend. My family. You’re not perfect, but neither am I, and the only way we’ll survive this academy is together. Do you understand?”

“Family?” She hugs my neck. “You’re my human, Kid. The filling to my Oreo. The frosting to my red velvet cake. The cream to my Twinkie.”

“Ruby, when did you last eat any real food?”

“Before my hunger strike to highlight the injustice of this world.”

Yikes. I veer down the closest hall. “We’re going to the comm to get you a whole bag of chips.”

“Cheetos?”

“Sun Chips. Remember the Cheetos have that red dye we talked about? The kind that makes you hump things and basically lose your mind?”

“Oh, yeah.” She throws a look in the direction of the office. “That man really hates the human Fall Out Boy Court. If I had realized he was from an opposing human court, I would have sang something else.”

I grin at Ruby’s confusion over bands and courts. And I grin all the way to the comm. Even if the photos I snapped turn out to be a waste of time, they did something even better than uncover Evelyn’s master.

They brought back my friend.

And something that precious is worth a thousand expulsions.

32

The Larkspur and Associates law firm takes up the top four floors of the infamous Magnolia skyscraper, the only office building in the city that caters strictly to Fae businesses. The giant steel and glass high-rise on Madison Ave dominates the Upper East Side, with floor-to-ceiling windows to ensure everyone knows they have the best view of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir in Central Park. When the surprise field trip was announced today in our Faerie Law and Practices class, I expected to be wowed and probably intimidated by the building my mother owns.

But this place takes wow, changes it to screamy all caps, adds a million exclamation marks, and puts it into gif form with fireworks shooting out of the letters.

“Amazing, right?” Mack whispers as we file quietly down rows of desks partitioned by glass dividers imbued with magic.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover this place,” I breathe.

Everything is in shades of chartreuse, ivory, or gold. From the paintings to the rug to the modern wing-backed chairs and couches. Gilded statues of fauns and brownies scatter throughout the spacious rooms. The air is infused with something . . . a wondrous scent that can only be described as fresh summer cut grass, loamy soil, and honeycomb.

Sprites flit through the air carrying briefs and files. A centaur pulls a rolling tray of espresso and tea through the room, to cater to their mix of mortal and Fae employees. And instead of light bulbs, luminescent spheres of magic churn inside recessed alcoves along the walls, no doubt ready to flare to life once the sun sets.

The guest relations female leading the tour is a delicate faun with white and brown dappled fur, overly large green eyes, and model features. We just finished our lunch at the state-of-the-art cafeteria, a collection of highly curated four and five star restaurants that serve a mixture of mortal and Fae delicacies.

Accordingly, the mortal students ate at the sushi bar or the overpriced hamburger place, and the Evermore preferred the make-your-own salad bar and smoothie restaurant.

As we pass by a blue-skinned Evermore wearing a blazer over gray skinny jeans, Mack leans in close. “These are the associates.”

I glance around. “Where do they put the interns?”

She snorts. “Not here. Interns don’t get sunlight or hand-foamed espressos.” Her eyes light up. “Did you know, all the desks are spelled to make it look like you’re alone in a landscape of your choosing? Both my dads use the oceanic spell that makes it appear like their offices are floating in the middle of the Caribbean.”

I’ve always disapproved of magic in the human world, but that’s really cool.

We move on to the rooftop, which doesn’t disappoint. It’s a park—or, according to the handy brochure the faun passes around, the Fae version of Central Park.

“Need to unwind after a long day of work?” the faun calls, dipping one of her hooves into the nearby pool. “Welcome to the Other Park, as we lovingly call it. This is where all the employees gather for recreation or reflection. We also have tourists from all over the Untouched Zone visit.”

“Where’s the roofline?” I whisper to Mack as I take in the seemingly never-ending tree line. The building is big, sure—but not this big.

Mack laughs. “You didn’t know? This isn’t actually on the roof—it’s in the Summer Court.”

“I’m not following.”

“At the top of the stairs, we walked through an invisible portal. It’s the largest portal in the Untouched Zone, way larger than the restrictions allow. I remember last year when my dads texted me with the news it was okayed by congress. Everyone was so excited.”

“So we’re actually in the Summer Court right now?”

“Yep.”

I blink at the patchwork of autumn-colored trees in the distance. “What about Faerie law?”

Not long after I joined the academy, I learned that, unless invited or stated otherwise in a contract, mortals who enter the Everwilde for longer than an hour automatically become property of the seasonal court they trespassed.

So even if I hadn’t stolen the neverapple, Valerian could have kept me from crossing back to my side of the Shimmer for sixty minutes and still claimed me as his property.

Note to self: Fae law is a steaming pile of dung and when I graduate, I’m going to dismantle it piece by piece.

“Remember the paperwork we signed downstairs when we checked in?” Mack asks. “There was a paper we signed that states by visiting this park, we do not give up our rights, blah, blah.”

Wow. I probably should have read those better. Being in the mortal world made me let my guard down.

Second note to self: the Fae are cunning bastards everywhere.

By now, that rule should be stamped into my brain. Especially after the research Mack and I did on the students whose files were with Evelyn’s. Each student shared the same rare blood type, AB negative.

And each one seemingly disappeared from the school without a trace. When we called the parents for more information, they all said the same thing: Their children had accepted a prestigious opportunity to train in a seasonal court.

When pressed about the last time they saw or talked with them, the parents seemed confused and repeated the line.

Obviously, the school is massively covering up pregnant students who turn darkling, but that doesn’t help determine who’s controlling Evelyn.

The class spreads out through the park. Our law professor, Mr. Orenthall, partnered with the professor of Potions and Poisons to set up a scavenger hunt. While this park may loosely resemble Central Park, it’s very much Faerie inspired.

The carousel is pulled by centaurs and pegasi, the ponds churn with selkies and water sprites, and the zoo is filled with every Fae creature imaginable.

We’re just finishing with Cherry Hill and passing over the Bow Bridge when Valerian messages. The scavenger hunt activated Mack’s competitive streak, and she’s already way ahead with Richard, Jace, and Layla, searching for the elusive bogle, a warty goblin that lives deep in the Ramble.

Facing out toward the still waters, I rest my arms over the stone balustrade. My lips curl at the edges as I read his text.

I keep replaying this morning.

I text back, you keep replaying me kicking your Fae ass?

God, you’re adorable when you try to act tough.

This mofo. Try? I type. You must be forgetting when I took you to the mat this morning.

Believe me, that image of you straddling my waist is indelibly engraved in my mind. Even if I let you take me down.

You’re an asshole.

But you adore this asshole. A pause. Those annoying three dots flash and then . . . Still coming tonight?

I almost respond with something jerkish about checking my schedule before reining in my inner shrew. Even in text, I can feel the vulnerability behind those three words.

Every year before the Yule holiday, Valerian, Eclipsa, and Asher attend a fancy private dinner at a resort lodge owned by Valerian’s family. It’s tradition, one that Eclipsa informed me his mother started.