Please don’t let me be the only—
“Only you.”
“Wonderful,” I murmur. Showing up a week late is sure to draw unwanted attention, and that’s the last thing I need right now.
“Which is rare,” he adds conversationally, “considering most of the mortal first years were chosen years in advance from the pool of mortals who owe us service. There’s an entire process to ensure only the best, most beautiful mortals serve here. And you’re . . . well . . .”
Apparently, unable to think of a word to describe me, his words trail away. Am I really that different than the other students?
Shoving my mittens in my jeans pocket, I brush my fingers over my hair, wishing I’d thought to comb it.
Alarm pulses through me. Somewhere between this morning and now my hair has knotted itself into a matted, unmanageable mess.
Why didn’t I think to take a shower? Or for that matter, brush my teeth? I run my tongue over my teeth, wincing at the fuzzy texture. Who knows when I’ll get another chance.
“Just curious,” I say. “Half-starved mortals who look like they’re homeless aren’t the fashion in Everwilde, are they?”
“No.” His gaze flicks from me to the procession of humans happily marching behind us. The meaning in his glance is clear—that’s where I belong. With them. The poor, glamoured recruits who smile dazedly in my direction.
Do they know they’re going off to fight monsters who used to be human?
It makes me sick thinking that soon, these poor, happy fools will be fighting the darklings. From what I’ve seen of the darklings, these people don’t stand a chance.
“How do you keep the darklings out of academy grounds?” I ask. “Other than the giant wall over there.”
“Wards, mainly . . .” Again his gaze shifts to the poor, happy humans bumbling behind us. Pity flashes in his eyes, and he looks away.
Before I can ask more questions, voices trickle across the crisp air. I sink low on his back as we pass Fae students milling around the grounds. They throw strange glances our way. I’m guessing most students don’t arrive on a centaur shepherding human prisoners-soldiers to the scourge lands.
I don’t bother to hide my own curiosity as I stare back. The watery darkness is broken by golden orbs that float above the students. The magical light isn’t enough to reveal their features, only that they are all different sizes. Some larger than mortals, some smaller.
We pass close to a group near the base of the mountain, and the heat from their orbs chases away the chill, if only briefly.
“Any chance the sun might come up, say, in the next century?” I call out to the centaur.
He cranes his neck to glance at the starry sky. Longing flickers in his mossy eyes. “That all depends on the Winter Prince’s mood. If he’s happy we might get a nice bright day, but experience tells me we’re in for weeks of this.”
That does not sound promising.
“Just curious. How many mortal students come from the Tainted Zone?”
“None.” He shakes his head for emphasis, his ears twitching back and forth.
Although his answer isn’t surprising—anyone with power and influence bribed themselves across the borders right after the magical apocalypse happened—I still wish I’d known all this beforehand.
“Stupid luck,” I mutter. “Stealing from the Winter Prince.”
He stops so suddenly I nearly fall off his back. “What did you say?”
“I stole some neverapples and . . .” The intensity in his voice makes me nervous, and I brush back a knotted rope of hair before continuing. “Apparently they belonged to a Winter Prince.”
The silence that follows is nearly as cold as the frigid air. Does this Winter Prince control tongues now, too?
But it’s obvious his shadow—and his brand—taint me much like the dark magic does the darklings. Until I sever this bond between us somehow, I’m untouchable.
As if the Winter Prince knows I’m thinking of him, the snow begins to drizzle down in wet, annoying bursts. I focus on the campus. It’s huge, and I imagine in the springtime the land around us bubbles with life and beauty.
But now . . . now the sloping lawn leading up to the main campus building is blanched with snow. As are the conical evergreens and waist-high wall of shrubs leading to a massive gate. Two-foot tall droughts of snow line the top of the stone fence.
A huge diamond-shaped crest sits in the center of the wrought iron gate, half-covered in snow. Engraved into the surface around the letters EA are all manner of creatures: fawns, sprites, ogres, and strange animals I’ve never seen before.
With a twist of the centaur’s wrist, the door parts, revealing a long gravel path cleared of snow. Flames of green magic flicker from ivory columns on either side.
I slide off the centaur’s back without being told. His gaze hovers somewhere on the mountains in the distance.
For some stupid reason, my eyes prickle with tears.
“If something happens to you . . . I will let your family know,” he offers kindly.
My throat aches. I hadn’t truly realized until now how much I fear my family never knowing my fate.
But I made myself a promise. Straightening, I force my chin high. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll see them in four years.”
The corners of the centaur’s lips tug upward. “I hope that’s the case . . . what did you say your name was?”
“Summer Solstice.” I throw out my hand to shake his before remembering he’s Fae, after all.
He regards my hand for a moment before tentatively offering his much larger one.
I give a good, firm pump while he frowns down at the whole thing.
“And you are?” I prod.
“Magus,” he answers, retrieving his hand and then inspecting it. “Good luck inside.” There’s something in his tone that bothers me, a warning. But before I can dig further, he crowds me toward the door with his bulky body. “Go to the headmistress’s office. It’s on the tenth floor. And . . . try not to speak or do anything that grabs attention.”
That’s my new motto. Stay quiet and blend in. How hard can it be?
10
Surprisingly, the inside of the main building isn’t as dark and dreary as I was expecting. A strangely comforting mixture of pine cleaner and sage permeate the air. Pendulum lights filled with magical orbs hang from the mahogany ceiling beams, and flickering sconces line the stone walls.
Maps are neatly stacked at an unoccupied helpdesk near an atrium. When I grab one, I catch sight of two guards near a door. Their ears are round—they’re human. Their sharp gaze falls over me and I quicken my pace, my boots hardly making a sound against the parquet wood floor’s polished surface.
On the third floor, I pass by a commons area where Fae students lounge on sofas that could have come from Ikea. MacBooks and iPads fill their laps, and a few have headphones on.
From a distance, most could pass as human—if not for their slender ears that end in delicate points.
The door to the headmistress’s office is parted. A gold plaque on the door reads, Headmistress Luna Lepidonis.
Inside, I find an imposing Fae woman with stern features and silver-gray hair pulled into a severe bun. She sits ramrod straight behind a neat mahogany desk, her inhumanly long fingers splayed out in front of her. Her face, like all the Fae, is smooth and poreless, with high cheekbones and large dark eyes.