She would have the chefs cook dishes she’d found in the human world that she loved, even though the Winter King would have lost his crap.

At least, before she betrayed Valerian and disappeared.

Last week, Valerian officially invited me.

It’s funny how one invitation—formally engraved with a cute little blue ribbon—could make my heart feel like it was leaping right out of my chest. After a little negotiating, he even agreed I could bring Mack.

Ruby’s invite wasn’t quite as easy to conjure; in the end, I promised to wear a dress of Valerian’s choosing.

Shimmer save me, I can only imagine what his devious mind is going to choose.

Yes, I send. Wouldn’t miss it.

I slip my phone into my jean short’s pocket, turn to jog down the bridge to join the others, and walk straight into a wall of the Six.

The new Six. Inara, Kimber, Lyra, Bane, Rhaegar, and poor Basil, who stands off from the crowd, unable to meet my eye.

Nope. I whip around, but Reina, blocks my path. Her twin boy toys stand guard just behind her. Their beefy arms are crossed and faces scowling, just in case Reina’s one fingered salute didn’t make their intentions clear.

Well, frick.

Hands balled at my sides, I force my chin high as I face off against Inara, the obvious leader. She’s super extra today in a pressed baby blue pantsuit and cream-colored Louboutins.

“Did you forget?” I taunt. “You’re not on the screw-with-Summer approved list.”

Her faux look of disappointment stirs something close to alarm inside my gut. “Aren’t I?” She makes a point of looking around. “Do you see anyone who’s going to stop me?”

Solid point. They snicker as I glance around, praying to spot a professor or another student. Not that either would actually protect me from Inara.

“Don’t bother, idiot,” Inara purrs, flicking a speck of something from her lapel. “There’s no one here but us and you.”

Adrenaline floods my veins. Maybe Hellebore lifted his protection. Maybe he got bored of our little game and decided loosing Inara’s inner serial killer on me would liven things up. Maybe I should stop counting on one psychopath to restrain the other and deal with this myself.

Gathering every ounce of courage I possess, I fake running right and dart left, toward Reina and the twins. They’re human, so the playing field is leveled a bit.

You can take three on one, Summer. Piece of cake.

But I never get the chance to test that overconfident theory because a wall of ice shoots from the wooden floor of the bridge, trapping me.

Oh, hell no. I pivot a second before slamming into the clear wall and dive for the stone balustrade, prepared to jump off the side and into the water—

A cold shock of pain slams into me, jerking me around to face the threat. Inara has her hand up, a blast of ice magic poised to freeze me solid.

Bane frowns and touches his sister’s arm. “You can’t. Remember?”

So Hellebore didn’t lift his protection. Not that Inara seems to care at this particular moment. I remember her words to Valerian. Her desperation.

This is Inara throwing a tantrum.

“I promise you, Inara, you don’t want to do this. We both know Hellebore. You might be tough and scary, but he’s a whole different level of monster.”

I can see the truth of my statement resonate in her expression, a healthy dose of fear pinching the corners of her lips.

Her chest heaves as she slowly drops her hand. “There will come a day when both princes tire of you. When that happens, I’m going to destroy you.”

Sticks and stones, Summer. Sticks. And. Stones.

Her words might not harm me, but the malice pouring from her entire being cuts deep, and I believe every word she says.

“I’m not your enemy,” I say, willing her to finally see that. “And I never meant to get between you and the prince.”

“Of course you did,” she snarls. Both Bane and Kimber hold her back as her lips peel back, revealing fully extended canines. “Stop pretending you’re not just like us. If you truly were good, if your goody-two-shoes mortal act was real, you would leave him alone before you ruin his life forever.”

Ruin. His. Life. Forever.

I blink at the implication of those words as a hollow feeling swells inside my chest. But before my tongue can form a reply, the new Six leave, laughing as Lyra makes some joke undoubtedly about me.

Kimber’s eyes find mine through the veil she wears to ward off the sun. I can’t read if the look she gives me is her feeling sorry for me or she’s just needing a quick snack. I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyway.

She’s chosen her side.

Rhaegar is the last to leave. Basil paces nervously near the other end of the bridge, looking between the others and Rhaegar. I try to force my way past the Summer Evermore, but he steps in front of me.

I’d forgotten how big he is, his six-foot-five body practically filling the bridge path.

“Move,” I order.

He laughs, but it doesn't reach his dark eyes. “I can make this easier for you. Just say the word and when the Ice Prince tires of you—which he will, Summer—I can hide you away in the Summer Court. I have powerful friends that can protect you from Inara.”

“But not from you.”

“You did humiliate me in front of everyone. That can’t go unpunished. But I’ll be gentler than Inara.”

I glare at him. “There’s always a price with you Evermore. What would I pay for your protection?”

“Do you think your prince is any different? That he doesn’t want something from you?” His shoulder-length reddish-gold hair falls into his eyes as he leans in. “I would have treated you like royalty. Now I won’t be satisfied until you’re on your hands and knees, begging for my help. That’s my price.”

Mother. Forker. I’ve worked really hard these last few months on my temper. On rising above and ignoring and increasing my odds of staying alive.

But something inside me snaps. First Inara, then Hellebore, now this douche canoe . . . I’m done.

Smiling, I reach up and grab a firm hold of both his shoulders. Rhaegar is so sure I’m about to beg him for help that he doesn’t see my knee until it’s ramming between his legs.

A surprised yelp explodes from his throat. He stumbles back, eyes glazed . . . and then, in some cosmic form of poetic justice, falls to his knees.

“You first,” I snarl.

I’m fairly sure I’ve just eliminated all future mini-Rhaegars in one go, and I give zero fucks. I do, however, care that he’s starting to shift. His wild eyes turn more animal than Fae as his hate-wrenched lips transform into a snout. Claws erupt from his fingers.

Time to bail on this party.

I dart toward the heavily wooded area known as the Ramble, sneakers kicking up dust.

Behind me, an unmistakable howl shivers through the trees.

33

I make it maybe twenty yards when the snarling behind me goes quiet. A few heartbeats later, I recognize the honeysuckle and jasmine scent that heralds Prince Helle-Douche.

Ugh. Life can suck it. Bracing myself, I turn on the dirt path to face the Spring Court Heir.

Oh, Lordy. He’s close—way closer than I expected, wearing a white T-shirt, his hands casually shoved into the pockets of his light wash skinny jeans. His full sleeve tats and tall, lean body make him look like an edgy runway model out for a stroll.

“That was cruel,” he murmurs.

“Was it though?” I quip, not even caring at this point.

“So that’s what the Winter Prince has been teaching you during all those private lessons in the gym. Who knew he liked it so rough.”

“No, actually, Amarillo High taught me that particular move.” I fall into a fighting stance, legs wide and arms up in a defensive position. “Look, I’m way beyond my threshold for douches today. If you mess with me, I’m probably going to throat punch you. And while I’ve really been wanting to do that for a while, I’d rather just call it a day.”

His honey-gold brows gather in confusion. “Throat punch?”

“Yeah, another human specialty, reserved for dickheads like yourself.”

Whoa, Summer. One perfect knee to an Evermore’s man onions and you’re Chuck Norris.

But Hellebore seems more confused than anything. His head keeps tilting as if he’s trying to make sense of my suicidal threats. “Careful, little pet. Unless you want me to leash you right now.”

Right. No punching Hellebore because that counts as touching. The universe really has some explaining to do with that one.

I jerk my chin toward the bridge. “You were watching, weren’t you? You get off on all of this sick crap.”

“Yes. And . . . yes.” There’s no apology in his eyes. Nothing but dark amusement. “Evermore live a very long time, which means we have come up with thousands of creative ways to stave off boredom. I’ve hunted the most dangerous creatures in the Everwilde. When that lost its appeal, I turned to mortals.”

“You must be so proud. You chased down and killed a species weaker and slower than you.”

“Who said I killed them?” He arches an eyebrow. “There are infinite ways to destroy something without physically harming its flesh.”

“Your creativity should be applauded.”

Why do I keep goading him?

He must think I’m being serious, because he doesn’t bat an eye. “Unfortunately, even toying with your species lost its luster eventually. Do you know what I found is the only kind of prey that captures my interest indefinitely?”

Good God. What else is there? “No, sorry. I’m not caught up on the wacko handbook.”

A wolfish grin reveals perfectly white teeth. “Nothing is quite as satisfying as hunting my own kind. Discovering what bait they can’t resist. Learning how to plant snares so carefully that they never even notice they’re caught. And then, when they finally understand that they’re trapped, helpless to my desires, I force them to watch as I slowly dismantle everything they’ve ever cared about.”