She shakes her head, sending her silky, multi-colored hair swaying around her face. “If only you could let him butter your pancake, just once, and get him out of your system.”
Water nearly sprays from my nose as I laugh. “There is no just once with him. He’s like . . . like the Ebola virus. The second I let him inside, he’ll infect every cell, every molecule of my being until he owns me.”
Richard and Jace exchange weird looks, while Layla flashes a sympathetic smile. They have no idea who we’re talking about, thankfully.
Jace finishes off his ham sandwich and shoots me a pitying stare. “Not that I’m one for sage relationship advice, but If you’re comparing romance to an infection, you’re probably doing it wrong.”
Shrugging, I shove my phone deep into my pocket. Obviously Jace has never experienced the delicious agony that is Valerian Sylverfrost.
6
We’ve barely started toward the courtyard with the others before Eclipsa appears across campus, near a collection of bright green sculpted hedges. I know she’s furious by the way she marches, her long legs stabbing the lush lawn, arms pumping. She’s dressed for battle in a dark gray leather ensemble fitted with enough knives to take out a small country.
Alarm prickles my skin. Dressed like that, with that many weapons . . .
What is Valerian not telling me?
If I thought I was notorious before, when the infamous Lunar Fae assassin makes a bee-line straight for me, the other human shadows around us gape before scattering like the dandelions swirling in the wind.
“What happened?” she demands, wrapping me in a quick hug.
“Inara happened.”
“You should know better than to eat any food not procured in the comm or the cafeteria, Summer.”
I glare at my shoes. No matter how much I cleaned them, I couldn’t erase the dark coffee stain that mars the white laces and stitching. “There were chocolate croissants.”
Her expression is less than amused.
“Fine. Lesson learned.”
“I’ll have a word with her—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t have you or the prince fighting my battles. If I’m going to live in this world, I have to prove I can handle myself.”
“Okay.” The twitch of her lips tells me she respects my decision.
“So, are you going to divulge what’s going on in the Winter Court?”
She flicks a narrow-eyed gaze my way. “Fae politics. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Is he . . . in danger?” I prod, a strange flutter dancing in my chest.
One of her hands hovers over her favorite dagger, a curved white moonstone blade set in a jade handle. “Nothing he can’t handle.”
I blink as the invisible wires constricting my heart tighten. Does she think that’s supposed to be comforting?
We clear the courtyard steps. A dais sits near the back, white cherry blossoms blowing from the nearby trees and scattering across the stage. The main building rises in the background, the pale stone walls tinged green with ivy.
Wisteria and jasmine tangle over the windows and balcony railings, filling the air with their cloying scent.
I peer at the huge crowd. The entire school is here, from faculty to shadows and Evermore. Even the ancillary staff is in attendance. I spot Magus and wave, but the kind centaur with the beautiful red mane doesn’t see me.
Sprites buzz above our heads, while gnomes, fauns, and other types of lower Fae work in the fragrant gardens around us.
Headmistress Luna Lepidonis takes the stage. Giant gray moths wings with green dots unfurl behind her. Their powdery softness is in stark contrast to her sharp, almost severe features. The entire staff stands behind her.
“Students of Evermore Academy,” she begins. “I have some special news. Because of the darklings continued attacks near the Spring borders, the students from Whitehall Academy have chosen to transfer here for the year.”