Winter

When I open my eyes again, the prince sits beside me, his knees splayed wide. He’s wearing ridiculous riding pants with the leather cut-outs for the knee.

“What’s wrong with your rock?” I ask.

He backhands a mosquito near the pointed tip of his ear. “I’m hoping these bloodsucking bastards will notice you and leave me alone.”

A laugh spills from my lips. His discomfort here gives me great pleasure, and I don’t bother hiding it.

His eyes narrow. “This game has gone on long enough, Princess. What are we doing here?”

“Enjoying the sun.” I grin wide as I say this; I’m pretty sure he hates the sun. “Also, I hate that nickname.”

One side of his lips quirk up. “The nickname stays.” He leans close, his arm brushing mine, and peers into my eyes. “So, Princess, what’s to stop me from glamouring you into telling me this secret plan of yours?”

“What’s to stop you from glamouring me into doing a lot of things?” Holy crap, why does that sound so dirty?

He settles his hands on his splayed knees and glares at the forest below. “Fine. We’ll stay here and fail. It’s not like my father expects me to win the cup anyway.”

There’s something in his voice that gives me pause. My heart skips a beat. Never once has he mentioned his father in any of our stilted, two word conversations. Curious, I try to get more out of him. Carefully, of course.

“He doesn’t care how you do at the academy?” I ask.

“Oh, he cares. But only when it comes to certain areas.”

“The combat side?”

His razor-edged jaw goes taut. “Anything that requires the use of power to win, I had better win.”

“Like the Wild Hunt?” I say, referring to the end of year test. We’ve just started the training and everyone is freaking out about it.

He peers into the horizon. “Exactly.”

“And if you don’t win?” I ask.

“That never happens.”

Arrogant much? But I don’t roll my eyes like I want to. Arrogance aside, he’s actually opening up. “So that’s why you had to follow through on the Nocturus with Rhaegar? Some sort of power trip?”

He regards me through his dark lashes, a muscle twitching in his temple. “That was different. I was protecting you from Rhaegar. He’s dangerous.”

I’m too stunned at first to say much. Rhaegar, dangerous? Besides, the prince makes it clear on a daily basis he despises me. Why would he care if I was hurt?

“What if I don’t need your protection?”

He chuckles, the sound low and throaty. “Like with the orc?”

Touché. “Okay, fine. But can I ask you something?”

He pauses from picking bits of dried mud from his no doubt outrageously expensive black boots. “Haven’t you been for the last five minutes?”

“How did you know I was in trouble? In the forbidden library?”

He sighs, his bowed lips pressing together as he straightens. “I felt it—your fear.”

“Felt it?” Adrenaline floods my senses as I remember being inside his head, feeling his emotions. Was it like that for him too?

Oh my God. What if he could see inside my head?

“What else do you feel when you’re around me?” I ask, digging for the truth. “Anything . . . weird?”

What I really want to ask hovers on the tip of my tongue: Do you experience an inexplicable sense of familiarity when we’re together, Prince? Does your heart feel close to exploding whenever I’m near? Do you ever dive straight into my head on accident—or on purpose?

But I don’t say any of those things, for obvious reasons. He stares at me, the fading sun highlighting the indigos in his hair, the hint of steel-blue in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs low as he swallows.

Then he jerks to his feet and stares into the setting sun. “We should probably head back now. The others will all be done.”

I sigh. “You haven’t been listening at all, have you? There is no raverous snake. At least, not here.”

His eyes narrow. “This game grows old, Princess.”

The sharp edge in his voice tells me it’s time to explain. That plus it’s almost dusk. “We need the venom from a raverous snake,” I begin, hoping it sounds more logical aloud than it does in my head. “But the raverous snake can only be found in a tiny region of the Spring Court.”

“So . . . there is no raverous snake?”

I glance down at the hemlock swamp below, a grin lifting my cheeks. “It’s like this game they play where I live called snipe hunting. They take the fool into the woods looking for the snipe, but the snipe doesn’t exist. It’s a fool’s errand.”

The way his eyebrows gather says he’s not convinced. “Then where do we get the venom? It must be possible since there have been prior winners.”

A roar comes from near the waterfall, the sound making every hair on my body stick straight up.

“From him,” I say, grabbing the flute from my pocket. “The chimera. He comes out at dusk to hunt.”

Wow. Saying that aloud sounds way worse than in my head. Comes out to hunt . . . and there’s only one thing here to hunt currently.

Us.

I can see the wheels turning behind the prince’s eyes. When the truth hits him, he smiles, the first true smile I’ve seen from him. “Chimeras are made up of a lion, a goat . . . and a snake for its tail.”

I could swear his voice sounds impressed.

“Yep. The textbook doesn’t say what kind of snake, but there’s mention of the serpent’s milky white venom being used for powerful spells . . . just like the raverous snake.”

“So, you brought us to the den of a chimera, the most dangerous mythological creature in the Summer Court, armed with only a flute?”

Okay, maybe I was getting ahead of myself when I thought he sounded impressed. There’s definitely anger in his voice now, and major judgement.

Another ear-splitting roar cracks the air. It’s closer than before. Probably only ten feet away.

Technically, the prince can’t use his powers, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing me behind him as the largest lion I’ve ever seen comes prowling around the trees. He’s the size of a horse, with a mane of shaggy wheat colored hair two shades darker than his pelt.

I thought I was prepared for the chimera. But there’s nothing that could have readied me for his immense size, the predatory power oozing from his graceful body. Muscles ripple beneath his golden fur like living things trying to escape.

From his back, a white goat’s head bleats at us.

As the beast pads lazily toward us, his tail whips back and forth behind him, hissing. I spot the snake head at the end, the retreating sunlight glancing off the dark green and yellow scales.

“There’s our snake,” I whisper, shoving my way to the front. I retrieve the vial from my pocket and slip it into his hand.

Before the prince can stop me, I approach the creature, the golden flute pressed to my lips. My heart spirals into my belly. The sound of my gasping breaths drowns out everything else.

“Hey, kitty-cat,” I coo. “Listen to this pretty song and don’t eat me, okay?”

In my head, I walk up to the chimera playing the flute like the badass I am, and he falls asleep at my feet. It’s supposed to be the defining moment of my life, a cool story to brag about for eternity.

But that’s not what happens at all.

40

The chimera growls, and I can feel the vibrations from that low rumble inside my bones. Closing my lips around the flute, I blow—

I don’t see the chimera’s paw until it’s too late. Claws snag the flesh of my shoulder, the force of his swat sending me tumbling toward the cliff. The flute jerks from my fingers. The prince calls my name.

Grabbing onto whatever I can hold, I stop my body a foot before the edge of the cliff. Fire rushes up my shoulder; a quick glance shows my sweater is shredded, furrows dug into my skin. Blood darkens the blue sleeve, turning it a soft purple.

“Run,” the prince orders. He stands between the chimera and me, one hand held up like a lion tamer. “Summer, get out of here.”

Ignoring him, I search for the flute. It must have rolled over the side of the cliff, and I find it on a ledge three feet down. Without hesitation, I leap below to grab it.

Don’t look down don’t look down . . .

Once the flute is safely in my hands, I glue myself to the side of the cliff. Rocks dislodged by my boots clatter ten stories below. Nausea clenches my stomach, my hands sweaty and clammy as I drag myself back up the cliff. Thankfully, adrenaline numbs the pain in my shoulder.

At the sight of me, surprise flickers across the prince’s face. The chimera must notice the prince’s focus shift, and he lunges.

A scream sparks in my chest. I shove the flute into my mouth and blow. The first two times nothing happens. Finger holes! Hands shaking, I adjust my sweat-slick grip so my fingers cover the holes and try again.

The moment I blow into the instrument, a sound fills the air. The most angelic, comforting tune I’ve ever heard. I almost stop, sure there’s no way my lips are making something so enchanting. The lion’s body grows rigid and then, slowly, sluggishly, he sits back on his hindquarters.

His bright honey-gold eyes are half-slits, a strange green glow emanating from them. Even though I know lions can’t smile, his feline lips are curved upward, his floppy pink tongue lolling to the side.

It’s working!

I draw closer as the prince glides around to his hind end. The raverous snake tail slides back and forth on the ground, but it too seems lulled by the music.

Drawing the vial out, he carefully secures the snake by its neck. The snake hisses, he slides the vial beneath its curved fang, and it’s done.

When he joins me, I notice the claw marks across his chest where the beast raked him. I try not to stare at the metallic silver blood dripping from his wounds. The sight nearly makes me stop playing the flute, but I keep my breaths coming despite my shock.