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.”