Spring

Wow. I don’t even know how to respond to that. “So, I’m not your prey, I’m just your bait?”

He chuckles. “Oh, you’re very much both.”

The smarminess in his voice grates on my nerves. I want to hurt him right now. I want to make him feel even a sliver of the pain he causes others.

Brushing the hair back from my face, I say, “Tell me. After you’ve snared your victims and utterly ruined their lives, does it go away?”

“Does what go away?” He asks this casually, calmly, his hands still inside his pockets, his lips still smiling. As if we’re enjoying a pleasant chat.

But the softness of his voice is a warning . . .

Screw it. “That hole inside you. The one you can’t fill no matter what you do. When you finally destroy someone’s life, I bet that hollow recess inside your soul doesn’t go away like you think it will. Like you pray it will. I bet it only grows larger. I bet it’s eating you alive.”

Holy poopballs, I’ve gone too far. His eyes go scary-dark, and the twisted emotions I see inside them—

He moves so fast he’s a blur. I careen backward, only to smack into the huge trunk of an oak tree.

He pins me, hands on either side of my head. “Little pet, I could call in my bargain right here in these woods.”

I can’t hide the panic clawing to the surface of my face. If he demands I repay him now, my plan won’t work.

“There it is.” His nostrils flare delicately. “You can mask the fear on your face, but you can never fully hide the scent. Did you know that every mortal has their own unique pheromones for primal terror? And yours, by far, is the sweetest I’ve smelled yet.”

I don’t even have a response to that depravity. His gaze goes to my neck. Shimmer save me, if he sniffs me I’m going to laugh in his face, and then he’ll for sure murder me . . .

A flash of movement draws my focus to the full sleeve tats on his right arm. The moving tats. One would naturally expect to see bees and butterflies flitting over the exquisite collection of vining flowers . . . but no.

Instead of cheerful creatures, Hellebore chose the kind that inspire fear. Black widows peek from inside bell-shaped magenta foxgloves, the silvery threads of their dew-covered webs weaving throughout the scene. Wicked scorpions bask atop the slender red petals of fire lilies, their barbed tails lifted aggressively. A tarantula’s fuzzy black leg can be seen poking from beneath a dogsbane leaf.

Forgetting to be scared, I peer at the elaborate art. Every flower has been painstakingly drawn down to the last detail—and each is devastatingly poisonous. Oleander. Hemlock. Nightshade.

The vines twist over his flesh, the buds blooming as I watch, like they’re showing off for me.

One delicate white flower is more prevalent than all the rest, its insidious vines strangling the others.

His piercing gaze follows my stare, softening as it rests on the star-shaped white flower. “That one’s my favorite. It only grows on the highest peak of the Lunar Court mountains. A mere two to three flowers bud on the vine once a year, during the Winter Solstice. One petal at auction would go for millions of dollars—if I ever chose to sell them.”

I swallow, wondering how many Fae he’s poisoned with it.

“They say to force the vine into bloom, the moon sprites feed the plant the blood of heartbroken lovers.”

The sudden excitement in his voice as he discusses his creepy hobby, contrasted against his otherwise hard, emotionless tone, is jarring.

“You are possibly the most . . . most twisted being I’ve ever encountered.”

Surprise flickers inside his too bright eyes, followed by . . . curiosity. It’s honestly terrifying how easily his mood switches from serial killer to inquisitive to BDSM weirdo.

“You really can’t control that mouth of yours, can you?” he murmurs. “Like you have a death wish.”

I lift my eyebrows. “It’s a habit I can’t seem to break.”

“I could break it for you.”

Hard pass.

Suddenly, he shoves off the tree and prowls down the path. “Tell the Ice Prince I said hello. Or not. He does have a terrible temper.”

As soon as he’s gone, the birds resume their chirping, the insects come alive, and the air becomes breathable again.

As my adrenaline slows, my fear takes hold. And when it does, every emotion I managed to keep buried during the last half hour rushes to join it, forming one giant pity party.

Frustration. Anger. Worry. The knowledge that I am utterly screwed no matter which way I turn.

I need to find the class, but I’m afraid I’ll break down in front of them, and I can’t handle that special form of humiliation.

Not right now.

Not with all the epic ways I’m screwed so clear in my mind. There’s still a lot I don’t understand about Hellebore and Valerian’s feud, but there are a few things I know for sure.

Hellebore has been planning Valerian’s downfall for years, he’s using me as bait, and to survive, I have to find a way to trick Hellebore at his own game.

Except I have no idea how to do that.

I don’t even try to find Mack and the others, instead racing to the portal that leads me down the concrete stairs to the firm. Even back inside that perfectly air-conditioned office with its giant windows, calming diffusers, and sublime art, I can’t force my legs to stop trembling.

Clutching a plastic cup of water, I collapse in the guest lounge on a slender couch made to look like a leaf. I’ve only just barely managed to still my trembling when Mack’s dad, Nick, walks by with a few employees.

I try to hide, but apparently just putting a hand over your eyes doesn’t actually make your face unrecognizable.

“Summer!” He rushes over, a giant smile plastered across his face. “Mackenzie made me promise not to embarrass her today, but she didn’t say anything about you.”

Clearing my throat, I stand and give him a hug.

“Where is she?” He pulls back and glances over my shoulder. “Have you guys been to the roof? She’s been begging me for a pass to visit since the park opened.”

“She’s still there, actually.” I try to plaster on a smile, but my lips catch on my dry teeth.

His brow pinches. “How does she seem to you, Summer? Is she okay? Sebastian and I—”

“And who is this, Nick?” a female voice interrupts.

I look past Nick to the tall, gorgeous woman in the metallic gold Oscar de la Renta pantsuit. Two Summer sprites hover behind her.

My mother. Or ex-mother. Or past life mother. It’s a working title.

Nick beams. “This is a second year shadow recruit at Evermore Academy. She’s the student from the Tainted Zone, the one who caused quite a stir last year?”

“Yes, I remember.”

As she appraises me, I drink in her features. Verdant green eyes. Sun-kissed skin. Long scarlet-red hair the exact hue of a woolflower plume, pulled high into a neat collection of braids.

I’m surprised to see her dressed so . . . human.

“Come.” She holds out an arm, causing Nick to blink in surprise. “Let me show you my office.”

Pushing past his shock, Nick nods encouragingly.

I don’t feel up to being around my past-mother, not alone. Not after the day I just had.

Yet her offer doesn’t really feel like something I can refuse. Waving goodbye to Nick, I follow the queen down a hallway to her spacious corner office.

More sprites and a white miniature centaur wait inside, poised to do her bidding. The centaur sneaks a glance my way, obviously decides I’m of no importance, and launches into a speech. “Your afternoon meetings have been pushed back, and city councilwoman—”

She lifts a finger, silencing him without a word, and turns her full attention on me. “Chilled cucumber water or strawberry and mint infused?”

It takes a second to understand she’s offering me a drink. “Oh, um, strawberry?”

A sprite dives for a glass tumbler on the bar counter opposite the queen’s desk, while another begins shoveling ice into the tumbler. Drink in hand, I follow the queen to the long cream bench lining the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the reservoir.

And wait. And wait. The queen’s silence swells to fill the room.

So in typically me manner, I begin rambling to ease the awkwardness. “This place, it’s beautiful. The views. The painting. And, holy crap, the restaurants. They have a fondue fountain with chocolate and—”

She holds up a hand, and my tongue literally stops working.

Yes, Summer. I’m sure she has no idea about the fondue fountain in the restaurant complex she owns.

Her head tilts as she studies me. “You stood up to Prince Hellebore during the Wild Hunt.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. Where is this going?

She gazes out the window to the park below, showing off her sharp jawline. “Have you applied for my internship?”

Whoa, was not expecting that. “I . . . would love to, but as a second year, I’m afraid the final gauntlet will be beyond my skill level.”

“Indeed.” Her face remains placid, but her tone drips disappointment, and I’m shocked by how much I suddenly care about her opinion.

“Queen Larkspur, I don’t mean to offend when I say this, but the Evermore oppress and abuse us at every turn. The final gauntlet would be designed to ensure most of us die just for trying.”

A kind smile lifts her cheeks, and my heart clenches as I wonder how many times I was the recipient of that same smile. “I may be an Evermore, dear, but I cannot take offense to the truth.” She taps a long, slender finger against her ear lobe, drawing attention to the gold capping the sharp points—the only jewelry she wears. “After the Lightmare, when the Untouched Zone was just beginning to allow my kind to enter, I was told purchasing land here was a fool’s folly. My husband, the king and man who openly murdered my only child, forbade me. The Unseelie Courts mocked me.”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of my death.