Mate? For some reason this shocks me. I’ve never met this Winter Prince, but I already know he’s just as cruel and hateful as Inara. Who else would have rules demanding death for stealing a single apple?
It’s hard to imagine either of them finding someone to love. But I guess dark attracts dark.
“So why do you want her, Eclipsa?” Rhaegar asks. “I thought you said owning shadows was stupid?”
I study the Lunar Girl. She’s one of the Elite Six, but she doesn’t have the same cruel look as the rest.
Lunar Girl doesn’t even acknowledge me as she says, “I like her spirit.”
I hate the way they’re talking around me as if I’m not here, but I’m playing nice so I ignore the urge to wave my hand and remind them.
Finally, Cronus shoos the sprites away and announces my fate. “I believe the rules state in this case, the human chooses who they want to shadow.”
Thank. God.
My shoulders sag as relief pours through me. Well that makes this easy. I step forward, ready to shout Rhaegar’s name, when my tormentor interrupts.
“That may be the rules of the Selection,” he says, his unsettling silver-blue eyes never leaving mine. “But Evermore law dictates, technically, everything in the academy belongs to the prince from the ruling court.”
Mother cracker.
I glare at him. Unlike last night, he wears all the finery of what I imagine an elite Fae wears, right down to the silver ceremonial armor that fits his lithe form and the sleek leather gloves covering his long fingers. And holy hell it’s hot.
But the most luxurious clothes in the world couldn’t hide the horrible soul beneath.
Then he turns to me and winks. The bastard winks. His blue-black eyelashes brushing his sharp cheekbones. And any bit of willpower I had left to play nice disappears.
“Don’t you ever get tired of being ordered around?” I blurt. “Do this. Do that. Ruin this innocent human’s life. You’re . . . you’re basically the Winter Prince’s bitch.” se a confused eyebrow, and Mack jumps in to explain. “This part is the official Selection, but most of us have already been claimed, unofficially, by an Evermore.” She tilts her head to Basil, the Faun who was in the boat earlier. “Basil has already promised to claim me. But you . . . you’re the wild card. You haven’t been claimed, and no one really knows anything about you.”
I release a nervous breath and sweep my gaze over the crowd. Thankfully, the Selection ceremony is well underway, and attention has drifted from me to the shadow candidates, who mill nervously near the front. I follow Mack to a spot near the back of the group.
When our names are called, we go stand on a small stage in a circle of crystals. A dark blue Fae, who introduces himself as Cronus, the Master of Ceremonies, reads out a little spiel on our lives. I try to focus on his words and not the deer antlers rising high above his head.
Unsurprisingly, the Unseelie choose the humans they deem cruel or cunning. I study their ranks, trying to catalogue the different courts. According to Wikipedia, the Unseelie are made up of Winter Court, Autumn Court, Lunar Court, Dusk Court, and the Mortal Beasts Court.
The Winter and Autumn students are easy to recognize; Winter wears silvers and blues and ivories and loads of fur, their hair varying shades of the same. Autumn Fae dress in Fall colors, orange and brown and red.
The Lunar and Dusk Courts are harder to pinpoint because the students dress similarly.
On our side, the Seelie side, the courts are what you would expect. Summer, who wear loads of green and gold, Spring, clad in vibrant pinks and yellows and purples. The Star Court wears light, gauzy clothes that sparkle under even minimal light. The Dawn Court sport colors of the sunrise, mainly orange and red, and Mythological Creatures Court have adopted earthy colors like juniper and coffee-brown.
The Mythological Creatures are fascinating. Along with centaurs and fauns, there are countless beasts from the storybooks like orcs, pixies, and even mermaids.
It’s interesting, and if I wasn’t about to be chosen like a slab of meat, I’d probably enjoy this part more.
When Mack enters the stage, several Seelie look interested in choosing her, but just as she predicted, she ends up with Basil. He smiles kindly at her during the process, running a hand through his short red hair. A pang of disappointment sweeps over me knowing I may not be as lucky.
I’m a loose cannon, a bad bet, and I’ll be surprised if anyone selects me.
Still . . . my generally optimistic nature makes me hope. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to end up with an Evermore like Basil instead of Inara. Someone who thought to cover me with a blanket and actually looked sad when a human drowned.
I don’t think that’s asking too much from the universe to match me with someone who isn’t spawned from Satan and surrounded by a pack of beautiful mean-girl sociopaths.
A girl can dream.
My name gets called near the end. As I walk up to take my place in the circle, the crowd goes silent. The bubble of heat still protects me from the wintry air, but goosebumps ridge my flesh anyway as the cruel gaze of the Evermore scrapes over me.
The boos start right away as Cronus calls out, “Who claims this mortal as their shadow?”