A Dawn Court shadow from my Gaelic studies class runs by, tears melting her mascara down her cheeks. In place of her nose and mouth is a pig’s snout, and her ears and feet have suffered the same fate. A coiled pink tail sticks out from her dress.

Two Summer Court Fae chase after her.

Thirty minutes later, Mack comes running up, her eyes frantic. Asher stands beside her looking bereft, his mouth tugged into a frown. A giant silver heart-shaped stain mars the front of her beautiful dress.

“I have to change. We have pictures in like half an hour!” She dabs at the stain with a stack of napkins, her eyebrows gathered. “Will you be okay? I’ll be back as soon as possible and then you and I will dance. I promise.”

I’m already uncomfortable, and the thought of standing here alone for another thirty minutes sucks. But I want her to look beautiful tonight, and there’s still hours of the dance left.

So I plaster a smile on my face and shoo her away. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. And take dragon boy with you,” I add. “Just in case.”

I think about the Fae males chasing that poor girl. Tonight is not the night for humans to walk alone on campus.

Asher gives me a solemn nod, obviously taking his job of protecting my best friend very seriously.

As soon as they leave, I lean against the tree and drop my head back. This is going to be a long night.

53

It feels like years since Mack left to change, and I’m relieved when someone approaches, asking for a dance.

Until I turn and see who it is.

Rhaegar grins at me. “Surprised to see me, Summer?”

His voice is soft and, yet it carries through the loud music. Basil stands a little ways off, frowning as he watches Rhaegar and me. But he doesn’t intervene.

“No, I . . .” I smooth my hands down my dress, staining it with sweat. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Are you now?” He’s still smiling, but his grin doesn’t reach his eyes. A stunning emerald waistcoat melds to his daunting figure, and a twisted crown of golden ivy twines around his head.

But there’s something in his face that makes me recoil from him. I’m shocked to see he’s half shifted. Dark fur runs along his arms, black talons curving over his fingertips. Bright silver paints his cruel lips.

And his eyes—

He grabs my arm, hard, the talons sinking into my flesh. “Let’s dance.”

No amount of jerking my arm or struggling against him can loosen his grip, and I’m dragged into a clump of bodies. When he finds a suitable spot near the middle, he yanks me close.

“Rhaegar, you’re hurting me,” I hiss. His body is hot, hard, a cage of flesh and bone.

His hand crushes mine as he forces my right arm out; with his free hand, he twists my wrist behind my back. Without any effort at all, he forces me into a stiff waltz.

He presses his cheek into mine. “Did you laugh at me?”

“What are you talking about?” I pant. He’s whirling me so fast that I can barely breathe, or maybe that’s just my panic.

“You and the prince. When you tricked me into losing. You humiliated me.”

He throws me backward. I scream, but his arm slips behind my back before my body can slam into the floor. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. His breath feels like fire against my skin.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know?” He jerks me to my feet. My hand throbs with pain. “Do you know my father nearly disowned me?”

“Rhaegar, please, you’re hurting me.”

He seems not to hear me, his lips twisted with hatred. “Where is your Winter Prince now, hmm?”

I crane my head, searching the wall of bodies for a friendly face. But all I see are the Fae, their eyes wild, laughing and screeching as they dance and dance.

All at once, the music stops. After so much noise, the sudden silence feels wrong. I can hear my heartbeat hammering inside my skull, my breaths in tandem with my erratic pulse.

Rhaegar’s hand slides up between my shoulder blades, soft, caressing, all the way to the back of my head. His fingers are so long that they reach both sides of my jaw. They dig into my flesh as he forces me to look at the stage.

Oh, no. Inara. Her beauty is overwhelming. Her eyelashes are frosted white, her lips painted a deep blue that contrasts against her ivory skin. A gown of frost shimmers around her body, the low-cut ensemble pooling along the floor like snow. Her cobalt blue hair is pulled high atop her head, held up by near-translucent moths.

The effect is mesmerizing.

“Beasties, fiends, and creatures, it’s time to crown the Evermore royal couple.”

A roar rises up from the crowd. My body begins to tremble.

“The queen of the Winter Formal this year is an . . . unusual choice,” Inara purrs. “Before we announce her, I want to play a little slideshow.”

I watch Reina walk to the stage and fiddle with a projector, then the white screen behind the stage lights up, and a video begins to play.

Of . . . me.

My unease surges to wild panic as I watch the video unfold. Every single incident this year plays over the wide screen. I watch myself, the feeling surreal, like watching another person.

Except the videos have been edited to only show certain parts. I’m on my knees in the hallway, arguing with Inara. Then I’m in the club, surrounded by male Fae. But from the angle of the camera, I look like I’m enjoying the attention.

Boos fill the air.

The video of me standing over the bed of the girl who was turned to stone comes next. I’m glaring at the camera, a snarky smirk on my face.

Of course Inara’s comments have been edited out so it looks like I’m somehow responsible for the girl’s death.

My heart sinks as more footage emerges. Moments between the prince and I that I didn’t know were filmed. When the camera pans to a window and draws close, and I see the prince and I inside the gym, my heart sinks. He’s on top of me, my legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fae-whore,” someone yells.

I try to look away from what I know comes next, but Rhaegar’s hand forces me to watch the final footage. I cringe as the girl in the video slinks from the prince’s house, her white-blonde hair messy and matted.

“Yes,” Inara purrs, “she’s still wearing the same clothes from the night before. Classy.” Her crystalline eyes meet mine, and a grin carves into her face. “Time to come up and claim your title, Summer Solstice.”

Time seems to slow as Rhaegar forces me toward the stage. Boos and hisses assault me from all sides. Inara’s lackeys mock me as I pass. Lyra performs a dramatic bow. Kimber doesn’t bow, but she bares her fangs at me.

Reina winks at me and mouths, you’re so dead. Her twin boy toys make vulgar gestures.

I climb the steps, my legs shaky. This will not end well.

Inara glides toward me like we’re best friends. I should have known she wouldn’t let the humiliation from last night stand. I should have been ready for something like this.

“This human thought she could come to our academy and spit on our traditions. She thinks she’s better than us. That she can come here and use spells to trick the Winter Prince into thinking he’s mated to her. First she tried to lure Rhaegar into her bed, and when that didn’t work, she went after the prince.”

A symphony of boos echo off the walls.

“She wants to become a Fae queen,” Inara continues, “so let’s make her one.”

Panic swells behind my sternum. I scan the crowd for a friendly face. I can’t breathe. Can’t move.

“On your knees,” she says pleasantly, still smiling. When I refuse, Inara motions to Reina. When I see what she holds, it takes all my willpower not to cry out.

Reina’s hand squeezes around Ruby’s body. Her other hand holds a pair of scissors.

“On your knees,” Reina orders, “or I go snip snip.”

“Don’t do it, kid!” Ruby shrieks.

But what choice do I have? My ego isn’t worth hurting my friend.

I force my head high and drop to my knees.

Reina releases Ruby, who takes to the air.

“I’m going to get help,” Ruby promises.

My eyes are trained on her form until she disappears out a side door. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it doesn’t matter. The teachers are all lesser Fae, and the Evermore students have had thousands of years to amass their powers.

The professors are terrified of them. Which means they can do whatever they want to me.

“All hail the Queen of Everwilde,” Inara says.

Raucous laughter vibrates the air. Tears wet my eyes, but I blink them back, my jaw grinding so hard my teeth ache.

“Every queen needs her king. Or in this instance, a prince.”

My blood goes cold. I glance to the right where a figure begins slowly ascending the stage.

No, it can’t be. I freeze as I take in the midnight-blue hair, for once combed neatly into submission. An ink-blue waistcoat so dark it appears black hugs his lithe form, and diamonds sparkle the length of his delicate pointed ears.

He lopes to the stage taking long, powerful strides, every movement screaming power.

A flicker of hope pierces my chest.

Inara beams as she settles a heavy silver crown over his head, just between his sharp ears.

Why is he playing along with this farce? Look at me. Please look at me—

“You never smiled for me that way,” Rhaegar whispers. He’s come up behind me. I guess he’s sided with the Unseelie now. Their mutual hatred for me a glue that binds them all together.

And I am smiling, I realize. Because if Valerian is here, he’ll put a stop to Inara and Rhaegar’s cruel game.

My gaze slides to the prince. Despite the fear rushing through my veins, I feel a twinge of happiness at seeing him. Last night’s events flash in my mind, so real I can almost feel his lips on mine, crushing me with his need. The sensation of those same lips dragging over my body is enough to make me blush.

Only now that mouth is mangled in a smirk.