Winter

The walk back to my dorm seems like miles instead of a few hundred feet.

Inside, I silently pack my bag (singular). Totally dejected.

Everything I own—a few borrowed clothes and toiletries—fits easily in the black Nike duffel Mack gave me. Ruby rouses from where she passed out on the safe, flies drunkenly toward me, and opens her mouth to no doubt yell something obnoxious.

But when she spots Eclipsa, posted stoically against the door frame, Ruby’s lips slam shut and her eyes go wide.

“Why is there a Winter Court assassin in our room?” Ruby whisper-yells next to my ear. The pungent scent of brambleberry wine nearly bowls me over.

“She can hear you,” I whisper-yell back.

Tears sting my throat. Mack isn’t here, and when I passed Evelyn’s open door on the way here it showed her room empty too.

I won’t even get to say goodbye to my two friends, the entirety of the people in this academy who will actually care that I’m gone.

Now that I’m faced with the reality of leaving, I understand a quiet truth: I want to stay here.

Sure, it’s dangerous, and we’re treated like dirt. But I like my friends. I like the academics. I even like being a shadow and the purpose it provides me. And the idea of becoming a weapon, of taking back the power I’ve never had . . . intoxicating.

Only all of that is gone now.

We traipse across the snow. As a whisper of warmth settles over my cheeks, I crane my head up to see the ghost of a sun. I mean, it’s buried behind a curtain of dirty gray winter clouds, but it’s there. Its fiery outline visible.

Just my luck, the day I get kicked out is the day the sun returns.

My chest clenches as I follow Eclipsa through the snow to a stone manor hidden behind the lake. When we get to the massive arched double doors and I see the prince’s crest, an owl over two daggers, I halt, shifting the duffel higher on my shoulder.

Leaning sleepily against the door, holding a steaming cup of tea, is the Winter Prince. His tunic hangs wide open, giving me full privy to his god-like abs. Each ridge is so well defined I contemplate running my fingers over them. Black leather pants end in bare feet, the toenails just as neat and manicured as his fingernails.

Bare feet—in the freezing cold. Must be nice.

Ruby is buried in a hot-pink infinity scarf Mack gave me, and she lifts her head. “Dayuum, kid. I could do laundry on those abs.”

I blink, unable to tear my gaze from his perfect form. Tats adorn his chest, all Unseelie symbols, from the look of them—

Holy hell.

His expression is a mixture of annoyance and concern as he eyes Eclipsa then me. “You said it was an emergency, Eclipsa. Care to explain?”

I raise my hand. “I’d like an explanation too. Am I not getting kicked out?”

Ruby leans forward on my shoulder, her little face agleam with mischief. If she had popcorn she’d be eating it about now.

Crossing her arms, Eclipsa turns to me. “Kicked out? You’re not getting expelled, Summer. How could you even think that?”

I shift on my feet, the porch’s warped wooden boards groaning softly. “Sorry, I have a bad habit of expecting the worst.”

That’s what happens when your parents are murdered . . . but I don’t add that last part.

“Well this isn’t the worst-case scenario. In fact, I think you’ll like this new arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

“I’m relocating you.”

“You’re what?” the prince and I say together.

Her lips curve into a grim smile. “I think you’re onto something about the accidents, Summer. And if I’m right, whoever is trying to kill you will keep trying. From now until I deem it safe, you stay here.”

“I don’t understand. Is this . . . another dorm?” My breath comes in ragged spurts.

I should be worrying about someone trying to kill me. If Eclipsa takes it seriously, then there’s a real possibility I’m on to something. But all I can think is how the prince is here, looking like he just fell out of bed. Which means he probably did just fall out of bed.

Which also means he lives here. Sleeps here. Naked—as my memory serves. Not a scrap of clothing on that wonderful body . . .

Blinking, I refocus on reality. Eclipsa is watching me with an amused look. Oh, crap. Have I been staring at the Winter Prince and his abs the entire time?

Yes, Summer—yes, you have.

And he’s glaring at me, his silver-blue eyes narrowed and lips sullen. Wheeling around, he shoulders open the oak door and stalks inside, letting the door slam in my face.

Well, this is going to be fun.

Propping open the door, I turn to Eclipsa. “At least the prince and I finally agree on something. This arrangement blows.”

Behind me, Eclipsa groans, muttering a prayer to Titania.

As my wet boots squeak over the dark wood floor, and I take in the luxuries—marble paneling, expensive couches, crystal vases with imported summer dahlias, and more windows than walls—a new thought emerges.

True, the prince’s on-campus house might be the safest place for me . . . physically.

But the same can’t be said for my heart.

37

The blazing fire in my room barely touches the chill. Throwing the sateen duvet over my head, I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve been thrashing in the king-sized four poster bed for hours trying to find sleep. But the icy cold seeps through the five layers of covers and into my bones.

I think Eclipsa said there are more covers in the closet downstairs. She stays here, too, a guest of the prince. Gathering the top blanket over my body, I slide to the wood floor. A gasp shoots from my lips as the painful cold meets my feet.

I forgot to close the heavy damask curtains framing the large dormer window, and moonlight trickles into the room, falling over the furniture. A cream loveseat near the foot of the bed. Twin nightstands made of sandalwood. Matching dresser and wardrobe.

The soft white bear rug spread across the large floor feels wonderful on my toes as I cross to the door.

Voices trickle from downstairs. I pause at the top of the landing to listen.

“I had no place else to take her,” Eclipsa is saying. Sliding down the wall, I peek my head just enough to make her out. She’s lounged on one side of an enormous white couch, clad in a cute unicorn onesie and thick rainbow socks. On the other side, spread out like a lion sunning itself, is the prince. He’s shirtless . . . because of course he is.

“Believe me,” Eclipsa continues, “if I thought there was any other place that could keep her safe, I would have taken her there instead. But the wards on this place make it the most protected spot on the Island.”

“I don’t want her here.”

Ouch. Even though I shouldn’t be surprised, his outburst cuts to my core.

The muscles of his abdomen and arms shift and flex as he inhales sharply. “You know what could happen.”

“How far along is it?” she asks softly.

“I feel it every waking second. My dreams are worse. And now—I don’t know how much longer I can hold it off.”

“Can we stop it somehow?”

He shakes his head. “If anyone discovers . . .” He shoves his hand through his ruffled hair, tugging at the ends. “Look, just make sure the moment it’s safe, she’s gone. Okay?”

Hurt twists my belly, and I slink quietly back to my room. He doesn’t want me here. I mean, duh. That was obvious. But him saying it, aloud, drives it home.

It’s stupid to let the prince wound me, but I can’t help it. Years of being judged for where I lived, what I wore, or how much money I had comes roaring to the surface. Of being indiscriminately hated for reasons outside my control.

I flop into the feather mattress and hug my pillow. But now that I know in my heart I want to be here, my entire game plan has shifted. Perhaps it’s time I move away from my scorched earth policy to one that will make my life on the Island better in the long run.

The prince hates me because of my humanness, so maybe it’s time to show him how great we humans can be.

Starting with me.

I wake up an hour before noon, the sun’s muffled warmth dappling through pale clouds. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but the world outside seems lighter today. The sunlight just a bit warmer.

My gaze follows the path of the soft light across my room. While I slept, someone delivered a bunch of clothes for me to wear. They line the far closet doors. Each luxurious outfit dangling from a metal hanger is varying shades of silver, white, and blue.

Lest anyone forget I now belong to the Winter Court.

Happy face, Summer. Remembering my new mission to charm the prince, I pad cheerfully downstairs to the dining room where Eclipsa and the prince wait.

Eclipsa gives a little shout of glee. “I knew you’d pick the gray leather pants. They’re killer, right? And that blue blouse is perfect for your complexion.”

I worry the hem of my shirt between my fingers as I sit. Like always, for a moment, before my mind grows accustomed to being around the Fae, adrenaline burns my veins. Something about their sharp ears and exotic, not-quite-human features this early in the day is disconcerting.

“You just missed Headmistress Lepidonis,” Eclipsa says. She takes a bite of some kind of Fae fruit that looks like a cross between a nectarine and an apple.

I grab a stainless steel carafe and a teacup, praying to every god in existence there’s coffee inside. Dark liquid sloshes into my cup.

As the nutty, acidic smell of coffee swirls inside my nose, everything in the world rights itself.

“What did she want?” I ask between sips. The coffee is perfectly heated—probably by magic.

“To express her immense displeasure at my decision to kidnap a first year without the headmistress’s permission,” the prince answers, sliding an accusatory gaze to Eclipsa.

Eclipsa rolls her eyes. “She didn’t say we had to return her.”

“No, but at some point she’ll need answers as to why. Any progress on that end?”

Stabbing a square of cheese with a disconcertingly big steak knife, Eclipsa shakes her head. “Still working on it. They tested the basilisk for residual persuasion magic, but so far nothing. And they’ve released the girl’s friend who they suspected. She had an alibi.” She gives a shrug meant to make her seem less worried than she is. “Speaking of friends, Summer, one of yours came by today. A Mackenzie Fairchild?”