She arches an eyebrow. “The creature who tried to kill you? Why, it will return to its cage. Every beast in the menagerie wears a tag that’s spelled to draw them back, if they ever should escape.”
The thought of that majestic creature being forced back into a cage makes me sick, and I can’t help thinking how our tragic stories are similar. Both of us pulled inexorably toward the place that will ultimately be our ruin.
Only the academy is worse than any cage. At least, in the menagerie, no one tortures the creatures.
As I leave, my focus drifts over her desk again and snags on a file. Evelyn Cantrell.
I quickly scan the other files next to it—all mortal female students, by the names and same red color coding.
My curiosity flares to life. Why are those files together? Have there been more students who turned?
But Valerian said preventing mortal females from bearing Fae children was simple.
If that’s true, why didn’t the Fae who slept with Evelyn make sure she was taking precautions? Or maybe it’s entertainment? It’s not enough to seduce mortal shadows just to humiliate them, now someone is turning them into darklings for fun? That seems rather stupid, considering how dangerous darklings can be. Then again, in my experience so far, the Fae have proven their mindless cruelty trumps their cleverness.
The headmistress clears her throat. Dragging my eyes from the files, I scramble from the room just as Mr. Willis enters. He gives me a kind nod before shutting the door. A lock clicks behind me.
Which of course immediately piques my curiosity. As quietly as possible, I press my ear to the door crack.
Muffled voices filter through. “Should have expelled her anyway,” Mr. Willis is saying.
Thanks a lot, buddy.
“The prince expressly forbade it!” the headmistress snaps. From the soft footsteps, she’s pacing.
Valerian intervened. I knew it.
Their voices grow dimmer. I press harder into the door, side-eyeing the top of the stairs in case someone appears.
I catch Mr. Willis’s gruff voice as he says, “You know why. He wants to torture her. I’ve heard the rumors about Whitehall, so have you. By letting him into the academy, I fear we’ve let a fox into the henhouse.”
Okay, they’re not talking about Valerian anymore.
The pacing stops. “I couldn’t say no, you know that. Without the Spring Court’s influence, they would have shut down the academy.”
“Yes,” Mr. Willis growls before lowering his voice. “But we still haven’t determined why Prince Hellebore is really here. The scourge has invaded the Spring lands, but the academy has enough wards that it would have been protected.”
Prince Hellebore? They’re talking about that inflated prick? What the heck? Which means . . . he’s the one responsible for me not being expelled.
Because he’s not done toying with me yet.
A small grunt slips from my throat. The room goes quiet. Stupid Fae hearing!
Footsteps pound toward the door. My heart slams into my throat as I leap down the stairs four at a time, nearly crippling myself in the process. I don’t stop running until I’m in the familiar halls of the mortal floors.
My mind is all over the place as I rush to my locker where Mack left my school bag. I keep going over this morning. Nearly dying. Mack and Ruby being put in danger along with the entire school. Being abducted and probably almost murdered by the Spring Court douchebag. Eclipsa’s hurtful words.
All of it swirls around my skull, a depressing reminder of how screwed I am.
I was determined to fight back and win my place here, no matter the cost, so I can protect humans from the Fae. But what if by being here, I’m putting mortals in more danger?
12
“Stop attacking your dress and let it do its job,” Mack orders.
“Which is what, exactly?” I ask as I halt, mid-yanking down the hem of the offending baby blue dress. It’s Mack’s, and I didn’t figure in our height difference when I asked to borrow it for the Selection ceremony. Even when I’m standing perfectly straight, the light, flowy fabric barely covers my ass. “To show off my hoo-ha?”
“No, to show off your long, gorgeous legs.”