The rules of a Nocturus are simple: Each opponent chooses three weapons. Then they fight using said weapons and magic until one kills the other or one asks for mercy.

Most willingly die rather than shame their court.

The last chapter piques my interest for three reasons. One, the battle was held in secret, with only one witness per contestant. Two, the first opponent was a girl, the princess and heir to the Summer Court, Hyacinth Larkspur.

And, three, because the Winter Prince was the other player. I read his name twice, Prince Sylverfrost, just to be sure. There’s also a fairly good illustration in the book of the entire scene.

The girl is strikingly beautiful with long, unruly red hair and a stunning display of iridescent wings, two on each side of her shoulder blades. She wears a crown of ivy weaved with poppies and bellflowers.

The Winter Prince is dressed in his usual pale blue cape and ice crown, his hair depicted bright royal blue.

My heart jackhammers so loud in my chest I think it’ll wake the Spring Court shadow on the nearest cot as I read below the illustration. The girl was incredibly skilled in both swordplay and elemental magic, and the fight went on for nearly an hour until both their powers were reportedly low.

It was then the girl drew her last weapon—a whip threaded with snowdrops.

Something about the whip caused the prince to cower, stumbling to a knee, and she used a staff to knock his own blade from his hand. Weaponless and magicless, he bared his throat for her to cut, smiling . . . if the text is true.

Only she didn’t kill him. Instead, for reasons not explained in the book, she claimed a truce that let both players keep their dignity, allowing the prince to live on to eventually torment me.

Excitement prickles my skin. I slam the book shut, sending dust flying into my face. The whip . . . why would that have bothered the prince?

A memory bobs to the surface. A story I heard Evelyn tell once during one of her long tales regarding the Winter Prince’s depravity.

She claimed King Oberon made him fight a soldier every evening when the prince was a boy. If he lost, if he showed a hint of emotion or mercy, the Darken tied him up in front of the entire court, stripped his shirt, and hit him with an iron whip until his skin cracked open.

According to Evelyn, wherever the prince’s silver blood touched between the cracks of the cobblestones, snowdrops blossomed. And today an entire field of snowdrops fill the courtyard of the Winter Castle, beautifully sad reminders of his beatings.

Right until this moment, I chalked her story up to another fancy tale.

Not now.

Throwing on my coat and gloves, I shake Ruby awake. “I think I know how to help Rhaegar win!”

One tiny eye flutters open, and she stares at me dreamily. “You and your five brothers, huh?” She giggles. “I’ve always wanted my own harem of human men.”

“What?”

Both eyes snap open and focus on me. “What?”

“Ruby, I need you,” I whisper. “I know it’s a lot to ask . . . but can you still do that invisibility spell?”

A wide grin brightens her face, and she flits into the air, giving a little bow. “Ruby Ricin, at your service.”

The only problem with being invisible in winter is the tracks along the snow. Well, that and my breath, which wafts into the sky in milky bursts once it clears the invisibility bubble Ruby keeps around us.

“How much farther?” I whisper, the book clutched beneath my arm. At Ruby’s suggestion, we cut through the forest to get to the ceremonial meadow where all Nocturi are held.

Ruby darts into the trees and then zips back down into the protective bubble. From inside, the shell looks much like an actual soap bubble, its delicate, clear surface tinged in faint rainbows of color. “It’s just up ahead, but we need to hurry. Looks like it’s about to start.”

Through the gaps in the trees, fire sputters and dances from torches erected to form a circle. In between the torches, a magical boundary of some sort shimmers. To keep the fighters from running away, Ruby informs me.

A crowd of Fae surround the makeshift arena, blocking my view inside.

Leaving me to wait, Ruby zigzags through the trees toward the meadow. I lose sight of her in the crowd. Clutching the book to my chest, I wait, shivering and praying none of the nearby Fae smell me.

What feels like hours later, Rhaegar and Basil come up the path to meet me. Sleek gold armor is fitted to Rhaegar’s chest, and varying shades of green kerchiefs hang from his shoulders, the little bells sewn into them tinkling.

A distrustful look darkens Rhaegar’s normally handsome face. The moment Ruby lifts the invisibility spell and I appear, his eyes widen and he rushes to me.

“What the Fae hells are you doing here?” He shifts his gaze to scan the woods before returning his attention to me. “If another Fae sees you, they could hurt you. I could hurt you. You shouldn’t be here.”

That’s when I notice the green glow smoldering inside his golden eyes. The bulge of fangs beneath his lips. He retreats to keep a wide distance between us, but I make out his nostrils as they flare slightly at my scent.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats in a gravelly tone I don’t recognize. His eyes are now glowing as bright as the torches in the distance, and black talons sprout from his hands.

A twinge of fear spikes my blood, and I retreat a step. “I came to give you this.” Slowly, I hold out the book. Basil takes it from my hands and delivers it to Rhaegar as I quickly explain what I learned.

While I talk, Rhaegar’s face twists and morphs into more beast than Fae; long black muzzle, lupine eyes, and glittering fangs mask any trace of his humanity. The change is so slow I hardly notice until it’s done, and then I can’t stop staring.

Especially when he smiles at my newfound information, baring a row full of needle-sharp teeth perfectly capable of shredding flesh.

Even Basil seems nervous around him. His tail twitches behind him, his long goat ears pinned to his head and eyes rolled to the side to watch Rhaegar.

A whiny snarl trickles from Rhaegar’s chest, and he touches his face, his predatory eyes locked on me. With a final growl, he flips on his heels and storms back to the arena.

“What is he?” I whisper, my entire body clenched to keep from shivering. I don’t remember wolf shifter in his bio.

Basil watches him go, worry settling over his face. He hasn’t changed much. His horns might be longer, his face a bit more goat-like. Otherwise, he seems normal enough.

“His shifter form recently became more lupine in nature.” His hooves stomp nervously in the snow until grass and soil peek through.

“Aren’t you scared?” I ask, leaving the ‘of him’ part out.

“This is Everwilde; I’m always scared. As you should be, mortal.” An inhuman wail comes from somewhere deep in the forest, and he shifts an anxious glance at the noise before lowering his eyebrows at me. “You need to leave. Now.”

Ruby conjures the invisibility spell, and I make sure to start walking back down the path so my footprints show. Satisfied, Basil joins the others in the meadow just as a wild cheer reverberates the air.

It’s starting. And my fate hangs in the balance. How can I go back to the gym and wait? My nerves and the not knowing will eat me alive. Just the idea twists my gut, sending hot bile lapping at the back of my throat.

Turning on my heel, I follow the path, stopping ten yards from the forest’s edge. Then I find a passably climbable tree, take off my gloves, and shimmy my way up.

“What are you doing, human?” Ruby hisses, darting in nervous circles around my face.

“Climbing a tree. I thought that was obvious?”

“What’s obvious,” she replies, “is that you are a bigger idiot than I thought.” She pokes me in the spot between my eyebrows, hard, and then settles onto a frosted branch close to my face. “And they call me unhinged.”

“This is my future,” I say, settling onto a limb I’m fairly confident will hold my weight. “Did you really think I would miss the opportunity to watch it be decided? Hell to the no.”

“Titania save us,” she mutters.

“Just keep that invisibility spell going and she won’t have to.”

In the arena, I spot a Fae with a ram’s head cross to the center of the meadow. He holds up a white horn, curved into a spiral, and blows, sending a shimmer of sunset-orange dust into the air.

The sound echoes through the forest, the eerie, otherworldly melody prickling my spine. Silence descends. A horrifying silence one could drown in.

For a paralyzing moment, my heartbeat thunders louder than the horn—at least, inside my head. I don’t think I can take the waiting. A hollow feeling carves out my belly, the strange moonlight and animalistic noises and threat of imminent death all too much.

An inner voice, the one that’s kept me alive this long, whispers that I need to get down from this tree and run. That there are things in these woods more dangerous than the prince.

But I cannot turn away from the battle, not when the outcome will shape four years of my life. So I cling to the icy tree, hardly daring to breathe as a roar of bloodlust and excitement thrums the night.

And then two male Fae step into the ring.

31

Every nerve inside my body tingles as I hold the trunk for dear life, watching the battle unfold. I don’t dare blink, don’t dare move an inch. My vantage point is close to perfect, the entire arena splayed out before my prying eyes.

Rhaegar is half-shifted, his head wolfish and large—because that’s not terrifying at all. Even stranger, he stands upright, a bow held at the ready. A collective gasp of awe stirs the air as Rhaegar lights the tip of the arrow with magical fire.

We are not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Behind him, Basil stands on one side holding the weapons Rhaegar chose. I can’t tell from here what they are, but surely one is a whip. A group of Seelie crowd around Basil, shouting encouragement at Rhaegar.

The prince has his back to me, but I would recognize that arrogant stance anywhere. He seems much the same. No shifting. No predatory beast form to instill fear and reverence in the crowd.