His flippant attitude over his treachery makes my teeth grind. “How does trading me to your enemy, the Fae who is colluding with the Darken and just poisoned your son, benefit you?”

“Besides the generous offer of lands in the Untouched Zones?” His eyes narrow. “Your mortal nature has made you blind to our ways, otherwise you would understand. I’m saving my son and the throne. With you alive, the contract your father made with Hellebore still stands. You will become the Spring Court Prince’s wife, and my son will be forced to forget you. He will marry Inara Winterspell, placating her father and preventing a civil war, our court will have lands in the Untouched Zones, and our claim on the throne will once again be ironclad.”

“Any powers I possess will be used to raise the Darken.”

“Perhaps. Although I have yet to see any evidence that Prince Hellebore is in league with my father.”

“That’s because you betrayed your son before he could find it!”

He picks at a fleck on his tunic, ignoring me.

“He’ll never forgive you,” I whisper.

“Forgive?” The Winter King arches a bored brow. “Such a mortal concept, forgiveness. He will be upset . . . but after you marry the Spring Prince and the bond between you and my son withers into a distant memory, he will come around. And if he doesn’t, well, perhaps Hellebore can explain.”

Hellebore lovingly finishes depositing his spiders into a small silver box lined with black velvet before turning to me. “Do you know why the Bloodstar flower is so effective? Besides being the most lethal poison in existence, it’s the most rare, and the cure almost non-existent.”

“You bastard.”

“There is an antidote that will prevent the poison from taking hold for a time, and if the Winter Prince and his friends behave, it will be administered every seven days.”

Oh, God. That’s how they’ll control Valerian and the others. Threatening to withhold the antidote if they don’t do as told.

A sick feeling crashes over me. I fight through it, struggling not to drown beneath the unrelenting waves of revulsion and horror. Struggling to be strong for my mate, my friends.

To find a way to save them.

Hellebore waits until the enormity of his meaning flashes over my face before adding the final nail in my coffin. “Only I possess the true cure. Which they will all receive after you formally become my loving, dutiful wife, and all your powers with you.”

I suck in a breath as the walls seem to close in around us. I can’t breathe. The feeling of being trapped descends, and with it comes a wild sense of desperation. “I’ll pay off our marriage arrangement, buy it out somehow.”

Hellebore laughs. “Orc’s breath, you’re adorable. Our future together is going to be so very entertaining. Especially considering that, as my fiancé, I no longer need your permission for anything, including touching you.”

Hot nausea simmers below my breastbone. “I’ll kill you before I let you touch any part of me.”

Hellebore’s chuckle echoes over the marble walls, and I want to carve his eyes out. “Behold, king, a rabbit who believes itself a wolf.”

I bare my teeth, near-rabid with a seething fury. This rabbit is going to rip out your throat someday, Prince.

The Winter King lacks Hellebore’s mirth as he regards me. I hate the disinterest in his hard gaze. As if I’m nothing, unworthy of more than a passing glance.

He shifts his attention to Hellebore. “Do what you will with her. My son possesses a misplaced sense of loyalty to his companions. He might gamble with his own life to retrieve his mate, but he won’t risk the lives of his trusted friends for her. As long as the poison runs through their veins, he will behave.”

In this moment, my hatred for Valerian’s father rivals my loathing for Hellebore. The Winter King has to know that, after what happened with Valerian’s mother, this final treachery will crush whatever’s left of Valerian’s wounded heart.

Both Fae males whip their heads to stare behind me—

The mahogany doors explode in a burst of fire, wood splinters slamming into the nearest wall. My mother strides in ready for battle, flames flaring from either side of her open hands.

Her fiery gaze flicks to my friends above, darts to the Winter King, and then settles on Hellebore.

To her credit, her shock barely registers before she composes her face into a fearsome mask. “I will buy off my daughter’s marriage contract. What’s your price? Land? Jewels?”

Hellebore’s lips twitch. “There is no price on love, isn’t that what mortals say?”

“The betrothal was never made permanent with magic before she died.” My mother stalks toward us until she’s close enough that I can smell her exotic perfume. “By Faerie law, we can still buy out the offer.”

“Fine, present me with my parents, alive and unharmed, and you may have your daughter back.”

My mother blinks, just barely masking her shock. I get the feeling very few Fae ever surprise her. “That was your aunt’s doing, not ours.”

“No. My aunt was simply being true to our nature as Evermore. She sensed weakness and acted upon it. I don’t blame her, but I do blame the Winter Prince for trying to take what was promised to me.”

His eyes gleam as he turns my way. “Our future marriage, secret as it was, formed powerful ties between our courts, and when the Summer King was forced to kill you to keep you out of the Winter Prince’s hands, my parents lost that alliance. They died all because one petulant, greedy Winter Prince had never been taught not to take what wasn’t his.”

That’s why he hates Valerian. He blames him for his parents’ death. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I will see the Ice Prince destroyed one way or another. Either by taking what he covets most or watching him die.”

A sinking feeling weighs down my middle. “The antidote.”

“If you refuse to make our betrothal permanent . . .” His gaze drags over my friends, one by one. “Then your co-conspirators won’t get the weekly antidote to slow the Bloodstar poison. They’ll become lifeless statues, empty husks. Dead, their bodies preserved for eternity, souls imprisoned in the Seven Fae Hells. You will never see them again in your mortal life.”

The panic searing my veins begins to ebb as I slowly look over my friends. Taking them in. Remembering how alive they’d been just a few hours ago.

I can picture with perfect, painstaking clarity Valerian’s face last night outside my door, the vulnerability and hope that had transformed him. I can see Asher as he waited by that tree for Mack, adoration in his eyes. I recall Eclipsa as she admitted to being my friend, to caring for me.

If saving them means shackling myself to a monster for eternity, so be it.

Jaw set, I nod. “Give them the antidote. Once I see that they’re alive, I’ll do what you want.”

“Don’t do this,” my mother begs. “Once the betrothal is permanent, you’re his. He owns you. Controls you as your male fiancé.”

“It’s worth it to save them.” My voice comes out a whisper, but it’s strong—frightfully so.

I’ve made up my mind.

I’m giving away my life to save theirs.

“Once the betrothal vow is finalized by magic, it will eat away at any claim the Winter Prince has on you, including your mating bond, until any trace of your soulbond is erased.”

The idea of losing what Valerian and I share nearly makes me refuse. But I know—I know without a doubt that what we have goes beyond magic.

Beyond fate.

Love. Hellebore might be able to sever our mating bond eventually, but he’ll never be able to make me love anyone but Valerian.

My mother must see that I can’t be swayed because she begins to negotiate with Hellebore. “After the betrothal contract is made permanent, my daughter stays with me at my apartment in the mortal world, as is her right before the marriage. And she gets to finish her third year at the academy before the wedding.”

Hellebore contemplates that for a moment before shrugging. “Agreed.”

“And my friends won’t be punished any further for breaking in,” I add quickly.

His eyes narrow, but he nods. “What I have in store for you will be more than enough punishment for the prince.”

I glare at Hellebore. Funneling every bit of rage and hatred into my eyes, my mouth, my voice as I say, “Do it.”

Hellebore gives a signal and three guards leave their places against the wall. The vines lower my friends to the floor, slowly, until they’re laid out in a row next to one another.

As soon as the guards administer the antidote, a drop of silver fluid on each of their tongues, the sickly white of their skin begins to fade. Their lips go from bruised purple to pink, their flesh softens, and their chests begin to heave as air enters their lungs once more.

I nearly stagger with relief, hands flexing and unflexing at my sides.

“They will wake up in a few hours, perfectly fine.” Hellebore makes another flippant gesture and the guards begin to drag them away. “Throw them into the scourge lands with the darklings.”

“You liar!” I try to break free from my guards, fighting with all my strength.

Hellebore’s head falls back as he laughs. “Fae Hells, you’re going to be fun to play with. I’m teasing. How can I witness the prince’s public humiliation if he’s been ravaged by darklings?”

The guards halt, looking confused and wary as they try to determine what they’re supposed to actually do. I can tell it’s a common theme—read my psycho fiancé’s moods and try not to die.

Hellebore waves a hand. “Make sure they end up safely in the Winter territories.” He lifts his brows in exasperation. “Satisfied, little pet?”

Not nearly. Not until your smarmy head is on a pike, you maniac.

I nod, my entire body stiff as I wait for what comes next.

I don’t have long to wait. Hellebore’s eyes glitter with malevolence as he saunters over and says, “Summer Solstice, Princess and surviving heir to the Summer Court Throne, do you agree to complete the promise of marriage between us? To become mine after graduation by the law of Faerie forevermore? To become my possession, my ward, and eventually, my wife?”