She was pregnant with a Fae child, what both Fae and mortals cruelly call a dirty-blood.

Evelyn never once mentioned dating a Fae or even liking one.

We enter the courtyard, and I search the throng of students. Each time I find a Fae male, I scour them for signs that they fathered Evelyn’s child.

Which is dumb. It’s not like the Fae who impregnated Evelyn is going to be wearing a shirt that says, Baby Daddy, on it.

“Fae’s teeth, is that for . . . us?” Mack asks.

I follow her wide-eyed stare to linen-draped tables brimming with trays of food and refreshments. Shadows have already started tentatively filling their plates.

Jace groans. “Oh, God, I smell real coffee. Could it be a trick?”

“It’s definitely a trick, right?” I swallow, remembering the hazing from last year. This feels wrong, somehow. There’s no way the Fae are suddenly being nice to us.

“It’s because of her,” Richard points out, nodding to a woman standing near the tables, clipboard in hand. The woman has a pinched face, frosted blonde hair in need of a touch-up, and a dark suit. “She’s a censor from The CMH. They’re everywhere on campus.”

I’d nearly forgotten that the Council for the Mistreatment of Humans opened an investigation into the school. Perhaps with the added scrutiny, no one will die this year.

The skeptical shrew inside me cackles at this absurd idea, but . . . the promise of spending our second year with access to basic human rights lingers.

As Mack sends Thornilia off with her backpack to organize her locker, we line up behind the others, all of us chattering excitedly.

Two plates of chocolate croissants later, I slide in next to Mack at a picnic table. Richard, Jace, Layla, and a few others crowd in next to us.

Mack eyes my mountain of deliciousness. “Afraid they’d run out or something?”

I snort, taking in her measly banana and tiny bowl of oatmeal before offering her a croissant. “Here, your mouth will thank me.”

I prepare for an epic response, like that’s what she said. Instead, Mack’s lips press together. “No, thanks.”

Jace arches an eyebrow as we share a look.

“You can eat that stuff because you’re tall and burning like a zillion calories in your extra workouts,” she adds with a pout, “but some of us can’t afford to.”

“Afford to? Since when do you care about that?”

Jace snatches the pastry I was offering Mack and takes a bite. “Since we became second years. That’s when they start measuring us.”

“Measuring what? Students?” I nearly spit out my mouthful of yum, sure I misheard him. “Like cattle?”

“Darling, we’re part of an elite group of mortals who represent the most beautiful creatures in existence. That responsibility comes with impossibly high standards. Didn’t you have to fill out your measurements on the application along with your picture?”

And . . . that explains why everyone here is abnormally gorgeous. I stare at my hands, covered in chocolate, unsure how to answer.

I forget sometimes that not everyone knows my enrollment story. Which is way darker than the rags-to-riches tale the academy peddles.

Mack drags her stare away from my plate and sighs. “I had to lie on my application. Only a few inches but you don’t get into Evermore Academy with these curves.”

And just when I thought I couldn’t possibly hate the Fae any more.

Mack was promised to the Fae since birth, part of the bargain her dads made when they used Fae magic to influence her adoption.

I shudder, thinking about what would have happened if she hadn’t been accepted.

Mack’s tough, but even she wouldn’t survive long fighting the darklings in the scourge lands.

“Screw their standards.” I shove one of the mini chocolate orgasms into my mouth. I angry-chew my way through two more before pushing the tray away.

Someone as kind and amazing as Mack should never feel less than because her body doesn’t fit a certain made-up ideal.

The Fae watch us while we gorge ourselves, high on sugar and the promise of humane treatment.

At some point, I catch sight of Rhaegar Moorland standing in the shadow of the nearest awning, and a chill dampens my mood.

He’s watching me, nostrils flared, not even trying to hide his simmering hatred.

Does he know Valerian is gone? The food in my stomach threatens to come back up at the thought.

Refusing to cower, I stare right back, surprised by how much he’s changed.

No longer the bright, handsome Summer Court Fae I remember, there’s something raw and wounded about him, like a wolf who was caught in a steel trap and healed, but will never quite be the same.

His once bright green eyes appear dark, almost muddy, his once glorious reddish gold hair now faded, shaggy, and unkempt. But it goes beyond his outer beauty.

Like autumn leaves after they’ve fallen from their branches, their stunning colors bleeding away into rot, his inner vibrancy has withered into something ugly.

Ugh. I drag my focus from the Summer Court Evermore and will myself to pick up another croissant. No way in Fae hell am I going to let Rhaegar, or anyone else, ruin this moment.

I’ve barely taken a bite when I feel Ruby rustle from her slumber behind me. She sniffs the air. “What is that smell?”

“Ruby, meet croissant.” I hold my barely-touched pastry up in the air. “Want one?”

Hissing, she rips the treat from my fingers and tosses it across the courtyard, hitting a third year shadow in the back of the head. “Want one? That thing is swimming with glamour magic!”

The second the words leave her tiny red lips, my stomach flutters strangely. A wave of euphoria rushes through my veins.

Crap on a stick.

A quick check of the courtyard reveals the censor is gone.

Nonono—

“Stand up, you dull little mortals,” a horribly familiar female voice orders. “It’s time for a game.”

Inara Winterspell. Any hope I have left that we’re not totally screwed dies a quick death at the sound of her cruel voice. The entire courtyard full of shadows jumps to their feet at the exact same time, including me.

“Ruby,” I call. “What’s happening? Why didn’t my necklace protect me?”

“Sorry, Kid.” The concern in her voice scares me. “Your soulstone can’t protect you when you willingly consume the magic.”

“It will be okay,” Mack assures me, but I don’t fully believe her. Nothing’s ever okay where the Fae are concerned.

Inara strolls through the tables, shadowed by what’s left of the Elite Six. Kimber wears a black veil against the spring sun that partially obscures the vampire’s feline golden eyes and chin-length black hair. Lyra, positioned to Inara’s left, looks both ferocious and stunning, her caramel mane of hair falling over tawny, athletic arms.

Only Inara could make both a lycan and a vampire submit to her command.

While Reina and her twin boy toys stroll around filming, Inara’s twin, Bane, busies himself toying with the mortal shadows.

My blood boils as I watch him pick up a plate of pink frosted donuts and force a first year shadow girl to shove them down her throat until she pukes. All the while, his face is transforming into monstrous faces meant to terrify the first years, who haven’t yet been told about his creepy gift.

The only silver lining to this whole situation is that I can’t move. Otherwise, I would have already throat punched Bane and earned myself the Six’s attention.

Not that I’m deluded enough to think they’ve forgotten about me . . . but a girl can dream.

“What?” Inara purrs. “Did you really think we couldn’t control one human censor? That you were safe now?” Her unnerving frost-colored eyes sift through the crowd until they find me, and freezing fingernails scrape down my spine. “Dance, monkeys, dance!”

I glance down at my arms and legs, both awed and horrified as I watch them twist and leap like some drunken Faerie.

Mack’s eyes are huge as they meet mine. The terror in her expression contrasts against the joyful way she spins and sways. Our bodies collide as we move faster. Spinning and spinning and spinning—

“Stop.” Inara’s command freezes us in place. I’m breathing hard, sweat pasting my tank top to my ribcage. It feels like my heart will beat right out of my chest.

The wolf pendant burns against my flesh, powerless to help me.

Inara’s focus hones in on me. Oh, goody.

I can tell by the murderous anger in her eyes that she hasn’t forgotten about me.

If anything, our months apart have only stoked her hatred to the next level.

What’s the saying? Absence makes the heart grow more stabby?

Her seven-inch crystal heels spear the grass between the cobblestones as she stalks this way. It’s like a repeat of last year, only now—despite all my training—I’m at her absolute mercy.

Frustration slams into me. I try to ball my hands into fists, to move even an inch, just enough to look intimidating, but I’m frozen mid-dance—arms out like I’m about to fly.

As soon as Inara nears, the others smell blood and converge. Inara smiles sweetly at me. Her hair seems bluer somehow, a dark ultramarine that’s pulled into a high bun, and her skin shimmers with ice crystals, as if she’s literally made from snow.

Blinding frost-white teeth flash as she smirks. “Wow, so brave to come back after your humiliation last year. Or, wait. Did you think your little prince would save you?”

I glare at her, my tongue loading up curse words that my frozen lips fail to deliver.

Dammit!

“What?” Inara continues. “Darkling got your tongue?”

Reina and the others laugh at Inara’s stupid joke. Everyone except Kimber, who’s feline gold eyes watch me through her veil. Once upon a time, I thought she and I could be friends.

She looks away from my pleading stare, making it clear how naive that notion was.

Inara nods at Mack. “Aw, look. It’s your bestie.” Inara’s focus flickers over Reina. “Is this the girl you told me about? The one who was rude to you?”