Spring

I grab my gloves, stuff them into my Puma bag, and follow her out into the spring air. Students mill around campus, some already dressed for the evening banquet. “If it’s just a word, why can’t he say it?”

She laughs. “Remind me not to ever go against you in court once you get that internship and become a lawyer.”

“Deal.” My phone buzzes, probably Mack. “I gotta go.” I give her a quick hug. “Are you coming to the dance later?”

I’ve been so busy prepping for the final gauntlet that I’d nearly forgotten the spring banquet and formal was tonight. Thank goodness Mack texted me a few hours ago reminding me to make time for a shower.

“I didn’t plan on it.” She frowns at a few shadows who nearly run into us on the lawn, sending them reeling back.

I can’t help but think her reluctance is due to a certain sociopathic prince.

“Please? You can go with Mack and me. We’re meeting a few other shadows, but I promise they’ll be on their best behavior.”

Eclipsa sighs. “You are aware that your friends are terrified of me, right?”

“Then come. Show them you’re all puppies and unicorns. And wear something slutty.”

“So you want me to be a puppy unicorn slut?”

“Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t say no.

“Um, have you seen yourself in that dress?” Mack asks. She’s sitting on the floor. Thornilia has just finished putting Mack’s freshly streaked purple hair into magical rollers and is now painting her toenails a dark metallic green to match her dress.

I twirl as I check myself out in the mirror, the long skirt of my gown floating around me, lighter than air. The pink color is a bit too . . . pink. But it favors my tanned skin and pale blonde hair. Giant dandelion heads have been meticulously sewn into the skirt, and they ripple at the slightest movement, making my dress seem alive.

“Have you thanked the ILB yet?”

I run a hand down the lacy corset. “I will tonight.”

The dress arrived in a long white box with the name from the most famous Fae tailor emblazoned on the top. I hate how happy that single gesture made me, even if he didn’t leave a note.

Perhaps what Eclipsa said is true. Perhaps he’s been distant because he’s trying to find a way to open his heart to loving me.

“Does that mean you’re getting back together?” She doesn’t look up from her toes, but the caution in her voice tells me more than her expression ever could.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“You know I like the prince, and I know you swear you’ll use precautions with him—but there’s no pill to protect your heart, Summer.”

I glance down at Mack. I can’t put my finger on it, but she seems different lately. Distant.

It’s probably all the time I’ve spent preparing for the final gauntlet while she’s been studying for the regular second year exam.

The exam! “Oh, shoot. I forgot to ask how your final went this morning?”

“Good, I think.” Her normally confident tone when it comes to tests is missing, but with the gauntlets and the exams, the last few months have been hard for all of us.

She looks at the time on her iPhone and then hops up, yanking out her rollers. “Crap. I have to go. I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll go with,” I chirp, moving to follow her.

Her back is turned, shoulders tight as she shakes her head. “No need. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t mind.” I grab a light cardigan.

She’s frowning when she turns to face me, her arms crossed. “I’m going to the gym for our final physicals, okay?”

“Our what?”

“Every quarter, before our tests, second year and above shadows have to pass physicals.”

“Physicals?” I repeat, imagining running sprints and being timed.

“Yeah. Remember? They take our measurements and weight, check our BMI. Make sure we’re up to certain impossible male standards that set us back like fifty years. You know, important stuff.”

Confused lines wrinkle my forehead. “I’ve never had to do that.”

Exhaling, she meets my eye. “That’s because you’re the special guardian of Prince Sylverfrost, and he demanded you be exempt.”

“What? Why doesn’t Asher exempt you?”

“Because only the Winter Prince could demand something like that. Besides, I wouldn’t ask him to, not when everyone else has to pass the same standards.”

My chest tightens. Suddenly all her excuses for not eating, like being too busy or her stomach hurting or having eaten earlier, make sense.

“I didn’t ask him to do that,” I insist, trying and failing to keep the hurt from my voice.

“I know, okay? I’m not saying you did.”

My stupid bottom lip tugs low as tears threaten to fall. I feel so horrible. How could I not have noticed she was starving herself for some ignorant standard? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I mentioned it at the beginning of the school year, but then . . .” She shrugs. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad. You already have so much going on.”

“Mack, I didn’t know. If I had—”

“See why I didn’t tell you?” She wraps me in a quick hug. “And I don’t think it’s unfair, not really.”

“But the others do?”

“Some, maybe. But they’ll get over it. I tried telling them it wouldn’t matter. You’re like a weird gazelle who never gains weight.”

I smack her arm. “Yeah, especially my boobs. If I could just have half of yours . . .”

Her smile lights up her blue eyes, easing any leftover tension between us. “The ILB likes your boobs, and these puppies are not for sale.” She stares lovingly at her rack in the mirror. “They’re my best asset.”

“Wrong,” I say, a sudden sappiness coming on. “Your heart is your best asset.”

She hugs me again, longer this time. “Hurry and meet me at the banquet. I have a surprise for you.”

As I watch her go, I mull over my hurt at being kept in the dark over the physicals. Why didn’t she tell me? It’s not like I’ve kept anything from her . . .

Oh, hell.

If this is how I feel knowing she kept a test from me, how will she feel when she finds out I’ve been hiding my past? I thought keeping that from her was for her own protection, but I see now that’s not an excuse to lie to a friend.

I have to fix this before she finds out some other way.

After the final gauntlet, I’ll tell her the truth.

36

The entire school attends the spring banquet, from professors to students, a tradition taken directly from Whitehall Academy. I rush to the quad just as dusk approaches. Long tables covered in white linen are spread out across the lawn, beneath the crape myrtle and cherry trees. The magical lanterns strung through their branches glow softly.

The Evermore and their families sit at tables in the middle of the courtyard. Accordingly, they get waiters, fancier chairs with cushions, and their own private bar.

I search the quad. Where are the second year tables?

While bumbling around looking for where to go, I stumble across a table laden with sweets. Hellebore’s sprite, Nerium, is already terrorizing the gnome Fae in charge of doling out the tiny plates of candied violets and strawberry basil tarts.

Ruby screeches from her perch on my shoulder. “Have you ever seen anything quite so beautiful?”

“Ruby, don’t you dare leave my shoulder.”

There might have been a rule that specified no sprites allowed at the banquet . . . and I might have broken said rule. I reach for Ruby, but she slips through my fingers, cackling in delight.

Note to self: some rules are probably there for a reason.

I leave Ruby to fight Hellebore’s sprite over a slice of apricot almond tart. As I pass by the group of fourth year tables, Callum spies me and nods, but the gesture is clipped.

Of course. I’m the only underclassmen to enter the final gauntlet. There are twenty passing spots and over forty fourth years.

The day I threw my name in the final gauntlet, I declared myself a threat.

I find the second year group near the courtyard fountain, in the shadow of the Magical Arts building that forms the east wing. Mack spots me immediately and runs to drag me over to where she sits beside her dads and . . .

“Holy orc balls,” I blurt as she grabs my hand. “Is that . . .?” My vision blurs with unshed tears as I stare at Aunt Zinnia, Aunt Vi, and Jane all sitting across from Mack’s dads. “How?”

I knew parents and family were allowed to attend the banquet, but I didn’t bother mentioning it to Aunt Zinnia. After she attended the first gauntlet, I was worried just coming to the Everwilde again would dredge up the old wounds from losing her family, and I didn’t want to be responsible for that.

But now, seeing them here . . . I realize just how much I’ve missed them. How much I’ve needed their presence, if only for a few hours, to remind me why I’m doing all of this.

“Zinnia was easy to convince,” Mack says. “But Vi?” She whistles. “My dads and I have been working on her since Christmas.”

“They don’t make ’em like Aunt Violet anymore,” I admit.

Mack loops her arm around my waist and drags me to my place at the table. “My dads might have sent her an expensive fruit basket and some insanely expensive Russian vodka to soften her up.”

I laugh, nodding to Jane. “And her?”

“She insisted on coming. Said she’d cross the Shimmer on her own if she wasn’t invited. She swears you’re in trouble. That the Fae have done something to you.”

Frick. The last few months have been so crazy that I haven’t always responded to Jane’s texts. In fairness, they’re mainly about ways to kill the Fae—she’s been busy researching, apparently—but still. I should have responded.