Winter

When I’ve downed five cups of water from a metal tumbler, I casually start to ask questions, hoping to distract her from our torture session. “So . . . what’s the deal between Rhaegar and the Winter Prince?”

She’s in the middle of some ridiculous yoga pose, and she slowly untwists her lithe body and meets my eyes. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

“Kind of hard to miss. I feel like a tennis ball being smacked back and forth.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. So . . . they have history?”

She switches to a one-legged pose, her arms unfurling above her head as her eyes shut. “They both loved the same girl.”

Drawing my knee up to stand on one leg, I try to emulate her pose and nearly fall over for my effort.

“That sounds . . . tragic,” I tease, righting myself. But then I see her face and wish I hadn’t joked.

Her lips are pressed tightly together, her eyes dark with emotion. She slides a careful look over to me. “It was, actually. She died.” She grabs a towel and tosses it at me. “We’re done for the day.”

Thank the Shimmer. Sopping the sweat from my tired body, I grab my clothes and limp for the locker room. A hot shower and change of clothes later, I at least don’t feel like roadkill.

On my way out, Eclipsa pulls me aside. “Word of advice? Don’t ever mention what I just told you. It will be a miracle if we can keep Rhaegar and the prince from starting another war.”

“The mother of all surprises,” I grumble.

Eclipsa laughs, a real laugh that shakes her entire body, and I’m suddenly thankful I can speak my mind around her without fear of reprisal.

“You and the prince seem . . . close,” I begin, struggling with how to phrase my words.

She stiffens. “Most of my early years were spent as a hostage living at the Winter Court. The Unseelie King learned I’m stealthy and possess a great memory, so he employed me as a spy. And when he discovered my skill with weapons . . .” She lifts her fine-boned shoulders in a shrug. “The prince is like a brother to me, and his father’s influence is the only reason I have a spot in this school.”

The prince. I can’t get over how everyone calls him that. “Do you know his name?”

“No,” she says, staring in the mirror as she re-clips one of her barrettes. “And he’ll never tell anyone, even me. As the most powerful Evermore to ever grace these halls, he’s a target. If anyone had his true name . . . well, anyway.” She shakes her head, the half-moon jewels curving her forehead shimmering. “That will never happen. He’s not a fool, and only his mother knew his given name.”

Debatable about the fool part. “Knew?”

“Yeah. She died too.”

It doesn’t escape me that the important women in the prince’s life are dead. Coincidence? Doubtful. Either way, the new information only makes me surer than ever of one thing: I cannot let myself become his shadow.

25

After the Winter Prince embarrassed Rhaegar by pointing out my fatigue, he pays a lot more attention to me. He stashes his books in his locker so I don’t have to carry them, and he’s more attentive to my human needs. Things like having to pee, consuming the occasional nourishment, and staying hydrated.

There was even a beautiful, fur-lined baby-blue coat delivered to our dorm room a few nights ago. Bags of dried rowan berries are sewn into the hem, and steel-blue leather gloves with creamy opal fur trim were stashed in the pockets.

Considering their color, the items are probably from the Winter Prince and not Rhaegar, but my ego won’t get in the way of staying warm and unfrozen.

Basic human rights for the win. I’m feeling very spoiled.

Which is all a good thing since the weather has only seemed to worsen, my bladder is the size of a walnut, and my muscles feel like goo after my morning sessions with Eclipsa. Along with running laps until I collapse, we’ve moved on from strict weight lifting to fifteen minutes of martial arts.

Turns out, that’s just as strenuous on your body, and I finish every session close to puking.

Rhaegar also has other Seelie—usually Magus or Basil—meet me in the hallway when he can’t be there. I’m assuming the videos of Inara glamouring me and her shadow kicking my ass have already made the rounds, which explains why he’s taking extra precautions.

And why the other students snicker and stare when I pass. But after a few weeks of ignoring them and avoiding the spotlight, things start to die down. After classes, Mack and I mostly stay in our dorm to study. Sometimes Evelyn joins us, although she’s not one for “books and stuff.”

Boring, but it helps people forget I punched another student, called the Winter Prince a bitch, caught the attention of the most terrifying mean girl in school, and then got my butt kicked by her shadow.

I’ve also managed to stay out of the prince’s head, and that strange episode begins to feel like a bad dream. My bruises have even healed, the only reminder of that humiliating episode a tiny scar intersecting my blonde eyebrow.

Things are definitely looking up.

I’m lying on my bed, deep into a book on Elemental Magic and Its Many Uses, when Mack breezes into our dorm, followed by Evelyn. They’re both grinning like maniacs. I was so entrenched in reading that I didn’t even know Mack left.

“Find anything?” Mack asks, her gaze sliding to the book.

I shake my head. “There’s almost nothing on the Nocturus in this book or any of the history books.”

“Maybe try one of the old tomes in the library tomorrow? I think they’re open on the weekends.” She shrugs. “The Fae are methodical historians. There has to be something somewhere that can help you.”

Evelyn plops on the bed beside me. Bright swirls of green and gold paint decorate her cheeks—they must be doing face painting outside. The entire campus has exploded in excitement over the Samhain celebration tomorrow.

I, on the other hand, feel sick just thinking about it. Samhain means the day my fate is juggled by two bloodthirsty maniacs.

“What time do they fight tomorrow?” Evelyn asks, toying with a silky strand of her fiery red hair.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip. “I don’t know . . . maybe midnight? We’re not allowed to attend.”

I glare at the flyer I set on the desk stating all mortals have to be in by dusk for Samhain. It goes on to explain the Fae students’ magic will be heightened, along with their base desires. The words NOT SAFE are printed everywhere in bold, capital letters.

“I know of a fourth year boy who died during Samhain,” Evelyn says darkly. “They found him eviscerated.”

“Lovely.” I shut my book and stretch, wondering why Evelyn always has the macabre stories. My movement makes Ruby stir on my pillow. Her wings flutter, and she moans, flipping onto her side.

I found her earlier surrounded by empty Charm wrappers, white sticks, and puke.

She ate them all. The gum that didn’t make it to her stomach found its way into her lovely magenta locks.

Mack wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “My parents said Samhain is really just a giant orgy.”

“Oh, good. Another reason I’m not leaving this dorm until Monday,” I mutter.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“Watch me.” I glance out our little window. Darkness fell an hour ago, the snow a slow drizzle. By now I can tell the difference between the dirty gray half-light that means it’s daytime, and the full, foreboding darkness of night.

Lights flicker in the distance. There’s a bonfire near the lake of sorrows that rages Friday and Saturday for the festival, and twinkly lights are strung through the evergreens and oaks. Through the frosty windowpane trickle sounds of celebration.

Of fun. Whatever the hell that is. I’ve literally forgotten.

Laughter draws my attention to the open door. A group of human girls pass in the hallway carrying streamers of green and gold—Summer Court colors. Usually on the weekends the campus and dorm clear out, but everyone is here for Samhain.

Mack lifts up on her tiptoes, a thing she does when she’s excited. “We’re going out tonight. You should come.”

“It’s not the bonfire, is it?” I ask warily. “Because the answer is a hard no.”

I’m not in the mood to be stared at and whispered about. Everyone knows about the Nocturus tomorrow, and I’m suddenly back in the spotlight.

“Ick, no.” Mack makes a face. “Only first years and dweebs go to school sanctioned functions.” I refrain from adding that we are first years. “All the cool students go to the Ice District in Everbrite. They usually only let fourth years shadows in . . . but Rhaegar told Basil we could come.”

“What’s the Ice District?” I ask as Evelyn flings open the closet door and starts rummaging around Mack’s clothes.

“The row of bars along Pixie Street in Everbrite? You’ve never heard of that?” Evelyn glances over her shoulder as I shake my head. “It’s famous . . . and basically the coolest place in Everwilde. The who’s who of Fae are spotted there all the time.”

“Why’s it called the Ice District?”

Mack finishes zipping herself into a skintight red dress that highlights her tawny complexion and hourglass figure. “The bars are all owned by the Winter King.”

“Count me out.” They try to change my mind, but I refuse to leave my bed. The idea of visiting a club owned by the Winter Prince’s family makes me physically ill.

“Suit yourself.” Mack leans down and tweaks my ear. “But, for Fae’s sake, get your head out of that book and do something. It’s Friday night. Walk the grounds. Watch a movie in the commons with the other first years. Make out with some nameless—but hot—fourth year boy toy. But you need to leave this room.”

I cringe. If Mack, the most studious girl in our academy, is telling me to get out and do something, I probably should.

But the only thing I want to do is find something, anything, that will help Rhaegar win me tomorrow for good.