It’s early morning, the academy awash in the silvery pre-dawn glow. A few revelers are still up partying and dancing, while others have passed out on the lawn. The smell of smoke and stale honeybrew drift on the morning breeze.

My bare feet and ankles are covered in dew as I march up to the Spring Court manor where Hellebore stays, behind the Combat Arts building.

Honeysuckle and clematis drape from the overhanging porch, and faded purple irises grow in scattered pots along the deck. The buzz of bees stir the air.

I slam my fist into the heavy oak door, disturbing the peeling green paint. I do that for a few minutes until there’s a pile of green flakes on the floral welcome mat. I try the knocker next—a gold fox head with emerald eyes.

When that doesn’t work, I scrounge around in the front garden until I find a rock, wind that fucker up like a baseball, and hurtle it at the front window.

The sound of shattering glass is music to my murderous heart.

“Wake up, you kidnapping prick!”

Something stirs behind the sheer white drapes.

I grab one of the pots, dump out the irises, and smash it into the arched entryway window. More breaking glass disturbs the stillness of the morning.

“I’m going to break every single window you own until you march your ass out here and face me!” I warn, grabbing the closest pot—an amaryllis inside a small hammered gold planter—and aiming it for the window to my left.

The door parts. Hellebore leans against the frame, the loose cotton pants he no doubt just threw on hanging low on his hips. His bright blue eyes are heavy-lidded, sleepy and feverish, his honey-gold hair raked to the side, as if he’s been up all night doing deplorable things. The colorful tats on his arms are nothing compared to the giant spiderweb tat covering his chest.

A tremor courses through me as I spy the black widow in the center. The arachnid is hunched over a blue-and-yellow butterfly—

I look away from the macabre art, made all the more disturbing by the way the poor butterfly’s wings moved.

Hellebore drags his too-bright gaze over me. “You can murder that poor flower and all my windows, but no means no. I will not sleep with you.”

“Where is she?” I pant, raising the planter like a weapon.

“Oh, you mean that young fire-cracker with the freckles and the red hair?”

My muscles twitch with rage. “If you hurt her in any way—”

“You’ll what? Break another window? Throw something at my head? Yell at me?”

Mother trucker. He doesn’t see the amaryllis streaking toward his smug face until it’s almost too late. Unfortunately, he ducks just in time and it crashes into something out of sight and hopefully very expensive.

The humor bleeds from his face. “Behave that way one more time, I’ll close this door and you will never see your sister again. Now, are you going to be a good little pet?”

My jaw locks, but I manage to grit out, “Yes.”

“Wonderful.” Hellebore draws the door all the way open to reveal Jane, still in her cotton dress. Her eyes are horrifyingly blank above a stretched out smile. “See? She’s fine. Happy as can be. A much improved version of the mortal I found snooping around campus. Now she was practically feral.”

“She’s a child. If you so much as touched her . . .”

“Mortals don’t interest me in that way. Not when it comes to that sort of pleasure.”

Vomit.

He smiles at Jane before turning that predatory grin on me. “You should have taught her not to enter portals. She followed me to the Spring Court territories and I’m afraid now . . . she belongs to me.”

My heart plummets. If he had taken her directly from the academy, I could have filed a grievance with the council.

For a moment, I let myself imagine going back to my aunts empty-handed. Explaining how Jane is now a slave of the Spring Court and there’s nothing we can do about it.

Except there is.

“What do you want?” I whisper.

“Hmm.” He presses a finger to his lips as if pondering my question. “Perhaps I simply want to keep her. Good help is hard to find, and she’s remarkably sturdy. She just spent the entire night cleaning my house without a break, and she’s still on her feet. Most mortals would have physically broken down before then. That alone makes her worth a hefty sum—if I choose to sell her.”

If I could murder anyone with my mind, he would be dead right now. Eviscerated, beheaded, and flayed.

Forcing my furious gaze off him, I look at Jane. She’s barefoot, feet dirty, still smiling. Her hands hanging limp at her sides, but I can already see the blisters forming. He’s going to work her to death.

Something flickers behind her hazel eyes. Just like Evelyn, she’s still in there. I know if I don’t rescue her today, she’ll find a way to do what she threatened.

End her own life.

I tear my focus from Jane and face him. He’s won. I know it and he knows it.

“What do you want?”

“Make another bargain with me.”

I clench my jaw. “I’ll never give you permission to touch me.”

“Maybe I don’t want that anymore.” He traces a finger over the wisteria vine tattoo spiraling down one forearm, making it curl and tighten. “No, all I ask now is this. Wear something of my choosing.”

What the hell? I tug at the hem of my shirt. “That’s not a bargain.”

“Fine. Win the final gauntlet and you get your sister back. Lose, and you must wear an item of my choosing.”

I scoff. “Winning is impossible.”

“Precisely.”

“I get Jane back now just for making the bargain,” I amend. “Win and you forget I exist. Lose and . . . I wear whatever freaky item you specify, but it must be an actual item of clothing or an accessory, and I can wear other items along with it.” No way will I let him force me into wearing a crotchless nightie or something equally uncomfortable and gross. “Also, it can’t possess magic that controls me somehow.”

He stares at me with those heavy-lidded eyes. Weighing my words. After our last bargain, he takes me a little more seriously.

“Deal,” he purrs.

I feel the magic of our bargain lock into place, and it’s similar to the feel of shackles clicking around my wrists.

Behind him, a figure appears on the wide marble stairs leading to the second floor. Inara’s bright blue hair falls around her bare shoulders in waves, an ivory satin sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked body. “Who is it?”

“Go back to bed,” he orders.

Her eyes meet mine, and rage flashes across her face. “You aren’t letting her sister go, are you? You promised we could keep her.”

“And now I’ve changed my mind.”

“But—”

“If I wanted your advice, Inara, I would have asked for it. Now go back to bed and don’t get up until I return.”

She storms up the stairs, furious.

Hellebore runs an idle finger over his neck. “Tell your prince thank you for breaking her heart, by the way. She’s so desperate for affection she’ll do nearly anything.”

God, if there was ever a male who deserved to lose his member just for being a douche canoe, it’s him. But I’m beyond caring about things like Hellebore using and manipulating an emotionally unstable Inara after a breakup.

As far as I’m concerned, they deserve one another.

Jane wobbles slightly on her feet, and I growl, “Fix her or the bargain is off.”

He sighs as if I’m the biggest bore in the universe. “Fine. She was horrible at making tea anyway.”

He snaps his fingers and the glazed look in Jane’s eyes disappears.

Her smile falters. Her body sags. She stumbles, emotions clouding her face. “Where am I?” Her eyes dart to Hellebore, anger and fear seeping into her expression before she looks at me. The terror and accusation in her stare nearly make me flinch. “What happened?”

Wrapping my arms around her, I steer her off Hellebore’s porch and toward my dorm. “Shh. You need food and rest. Zinnia and Vi are waiting. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

But it’s not going to be okay. I’ve just made a deal with the devil . . . and there’s no wiggling out of this one. I don’t know what Hellebore’s playing at, but I do know I want no part of it.

I have to win the gauntlet or die trying.

40

Aunt Vi is on hold with the main office when I arrive with Jane. They take one look at her disheveled hair, ragged dress, and dirty feet, and jump into action. Zinnia helps me set Jane down on my bunk while Vi pours a glass of water for her.

They don’t say a word, but I can feel the accusation in their sideways glances.

I should have protected her. I should have apprised them of the risks. The moment I saw them at the banquet, I should have warned them to flee. Instead, I was selfish. Too overwhelmed with my own needs to think of theirs.

We decide Jane should rest in their quarters for a few hours before making the trek back to the other side of the Shimmer. I was supposed to travel with them. We’re on break this week until Friday, when I travel to the Spring Court for the final gauntlet.

But now . . . I think it’s best Jane doesn’t see me. Not for the next few hours.

After they’re gone, I begin packing my things. Mack apparently left to check the courtyard for Jane, just in case she’d snuck back to the party, and she hasn’t returned. I finish packing in less than an hour—it’s easy to gather your belongings when they literally fit in a small carry-on—and then decide to shower. On the way back from the communal bathrooms, I pass by Kyler’s room.

The door is unlocked. Someone’s already cleaned out Kyler’s stuff. The bed is made. The bathroom’s tidy. It’s like she and Evelyn never existed. Dropping to my knees, I check beneath the bathroom sink, surprised by the pink crate labeled, “Old Roommate’s Stuff.”

Kyler must have gathered it up and kept it, perhaps to give to Evelyn’s parents.