Then he drops his gaze and growls, “Of course she cheated. She’s Inara’s shadow. I’d expect nothing less.”

The Winter Prince scowls at Eclipsa as he joins us. “Don’t fill her head with nonsense. Cheat or not, that was embarrassing. If Summer wants to be my shadow, she has to actually protect me.”

Ugh, the nerve of this guy. I try to glare at him, but furrowing my brows sends a fresh wave of agony into my skull. “I don’t want to be your shadow. And I certainly wouldn’t ever protect you if it came down to it.”

Eclipsa’s mouth falls open, and she and Asher exchange glances. The dragon shifter suddenly goes from barely looking at me to studying me with a deeply curious half-grin. He must like what he sees because the other side of his lips curve upward into an impressed smile.

“Don’t listen to her,” Asher says, still grinning. “She has a pretty severe concussion. I’m surprised she didn’t pass out.”

The prince ignores both of us, his face schooled into a serious mask as he runs his fingers over my body, checking for broken bones. Every brush of his fingertips sends little bursts of pleasure rippling through my core.

When he’s done with his assessment, he yanks his hands up to my head, pressing his cold fingers into my temples.

I try very hard not to notice the way his palms graze the tops of my cheeks—or the way my heart flutters at the contact. I need help. Mental help. Finding him attractive when he’s the reason I’m here is madness.

He touches a tender spot and I flinch.

“Be still,” he barks. “I’m trying to heal your concussion.”

A shot of cold surges from his fingertips. I cry out, but a second later, the pain in my head dissipates.

The moment he’s done, he jerks his hands away like my flesh burns him and shakes them out. Then he shifts his gaze from me to Eclipsa. “Who’s doing her extra combat sessions?”

Eclipsa tugs on the end of a silver braid. “I think Richter assigned—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Whoever she assigned, they won’t be good enough. Can you take over her training?”

“I . . .” Her gaze slides to me, back to him. I can see she wants to refuse. But then she nods. “Fine. I’ll do what I can.”

Not exactly a vote of confidence, but I don’t blame her after my shameful beat down.

An awkward silence falls. Mack suddenly brightens. “Wait. You healed Summer’s head, which means you can heal the rest of her, right?”

Everyone stares expectantly at the prince, even me. With the pain gone, I might be able to forget the whole humiliating experience. And my lip stings something awful.

But he rewards us with a deep scowl. “Only her concussion, not the rest. She needs to feel every bruise. It will motivate her to pay attention in her first session tomorrow with Eclipsa.”

Jerk. I frown, sending a fresh wave of agony through the tender, swollen flesh of my lip.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” I snap, the pain adding fuel to my already short temper. “You could have called anyone up there, but you chose me, knowing I wasn’t ready. Why?”

A muscle jumps just above the razor-edge line of his jaw. “Just be ready tomorrow for Eclipsa’s sessions.”

When we arrive at the dorms, I shower in a daze and then collapse onto my bed. I stopped by the healing center on the way back, but the Advil and bitter herbal capsule the nurse insisted I take did little to soften my throbbing bruises.

Bruises the Winter Prince could have easily healed—if he wasn’t a sadistic dickwad who enjoys making me suffer.

Mack settles in beside me, and then we stare at the upper bunk and try to come up with a solution to food that doesn’t involve going to the dining hall. No way can I face anyone now.

Before either of us can find an answer, a knock sounds and then a school employee drops two trays brimming with food on the coffee table.

The offering is a mixture of human comfort food—hamburgers and pizza—and the Fae rabbit food I’m beginning to expect, like fruits, nuts, and vegetables.

Mack squeals and grabs the note, reading it in a male voice. “You haven’t bothered attending the dining hall much since you arrived, so I’m sending the food to you.” She flips the card over and frowns. “It’s not signed . . . but it has to be Rhaegar. Have I mentioned how you totally lucked out landing him?”

“Agreed,” I admit as I snag the burger, delighted to see American cheese curling over the edges of the thick meat. God, is there any better kind? There are even packets of both mayo and ketchup, and a little ramekin of pickles.

Jackpot. The only thing better would be tacos. But beggars can’t be choosers.

“Oh, wait.” Mack holds up something . . . a Charm lollipop. “There’s a whole box of these here too.”

My breath hitches. Rhaegar has no idea I love Charm lollipops, but the prince does. He stole them from me the night we met. The same night he took my fate and stomped it to smithereens.

The bite of cheeseburger turns to dirt in my mouth. I force it down, push my cheeseburger aside, and take a lollipop.

Whatever sick game the prince is playing, I want nothing to do with it.

24

“Again!” Eclipsa orders. I’m lying on a weight bench while she stands over me, arms crossed, a frown tugging her lips. She’s glaring at the two shaking weights in my hand. I’m supposed to be pressing them toward the ceiling, but my muscles refuse. Sweat drenches my temples, and a stripe of my blonde hair is pasted across my forehead.

I’m only on my second rep. Lord save me.

When I showed up this morning at 10:00 a.m. she was waiting for me in the weight room wearing cute silver leggings and a jet-black racerback tank that showed off her toned arms. Her silver hair was wreathed around her head in a complex set of french-braids, and silver half-moon barrettes held everything together.

“Hoping I didn’t show and you’d get stuck with Richter?” she had asked.

“No, of course not,” I said. “I just . . . it’s hard to get used to students as instructors.”

She’d grinned at that. “Summer, how old do you think I am?”

I stared at her poreless face, not a saggy bit of skin or wrinkle anywhere, and shrugged.

“Five hundred and seven.” She waited until the shock registered on my face and then added, “We mature slower than humans. And most Evermore don’t receive the full extent of their powers until around half a millennium, so that’s when we attend the academy. But I promise you, I’ve had hundreds of years to hone this beautiful body into a weapon of mass murder.”

“Huh.” It was the smartest thing I could think to say.

“Richter’s good . . . for a human,” she added. “But she’s like a blunt force instrument. All brute and no finesse. Wouldn’t you like to know the exact spot between the ribs to stick a dagger to stop someone’s heart before they can make a sound?”

My mouth fell open.

Taking that as a yes, she continued, “The Unseelie side values the Winter Prince. He harbors the most powers and promise of any Evermore student in over five thousand years, maybe even more than the Darken. Seeing as he insists on you being his shadow, I’m now tasked with making you competent.”

“And if I end up with Rhaegar?” I had asked.

She smiled that sanguine smile. “You won’t. Trust me. What the Winter Prince wants . . . he gets.”

Not if I can help it.

I barely had time to suppress an eye roll before she was putting me through round after round of weight lifting and stretches until my heartbeat felt like one giant throb pulsing pain to every bruise on my body.

Now, an hour of torture later, my body is in full-scale revolt, my lip has started bleeding again, my tights have wedged into every crack I possess, and the cut above my eye needs another butterfly bandage.

I’m falling apart at the seams.

But the prince was right. My humiliation from last night’s epic smackdown fuels my workout, and I’ve pushed way beyond what I ever thought I could do physically. It’s kind of exhilarating.

“Breathe through your nose and into your belly,” Eclipsa commands, ripping me from my daydream and back to the very painful present.

“I am,” I promise.

“No, you’re sucking mouthfuls of air through your lips like you’re drowning. It’s the most inefficient way to get oxygen to your body . . . and you look like a dying fish.”

Well, she doesn’t mince words.

Lifting the weights from me like they weigh nothing, she gives me a second to breathe.

“Let me ask you a question,” she begins. “For a human, you have what could be a strong, athletic body. Why are you so weak? Does your kind not have training to keep you in shape?”

Her words sting, and I glance over my too-thin body. It’s hard to remember what I looked like with muscle and curves in all the right places. “We have sports, but . . .” Anger, hot and unexpected, surges through me, and I have to forcibly unclench my fists. “We’re starving where I live. Hard to build muscle without food, you know?”

Surprise flickers across her face before she can school her expression into a neutral mask.

My heart clenches. Talking about my life on the other side conjures a wave of sadness as I realize how much I miss my aunts and the others, especially Jane. Are they okay? Do they have enough to eat? Are they safe?

An ache forms in the back of my throat. I can’t think about them. Not now. Not until the day I walk out of this academy.

Grunting, I open my hands and motion to the weights, hoping the grind of pushing my body to its limits will remove the hollow grief that’s settled deep inside me.

Eclipsa is looking at me different now, but she hands them over, and I finally manage to lift the dumbbells halfway. She coaxes a few more reps from me and then allows a water break.

I tell myself it’s not because she feels sorry for me. The idea she might pity me now is unbearable.