Admittedly, he looks hot in his portrait. A crown of jagged ice sits atop a mop of blue-black hair, a few dark curls falling around sharp ears. Dark lashes frame serious blue eyes ringed with silver, and a snow-white owl, similar to the one that shadows me on the other side, perches on his shoulder.

Frowning, I stick out my tongue. I swear one corner of his lips quirk.

Why do you want me as your shadow? I think, wishing he could answer. Why me?

Instead of responding, his magical picture smirks cruelly at me. A moment later, the owl takes off, disappearing from the picture altogether and sending a single feather floating to the dusty floor.

A real feather. On our floor. What the eff?

Dread coils around my gut, and I crumple the photo into a ball and then toss it into the trash bin.

Not long after, a white owl lands in the tree outside our window where a blizzard still rages. Fluffing out its wings, the owl stares into our room until I stomp over and rip the emerald-green drapes closed.

Suddenly, magic isn’t so cool anymore.

“All right,” I growl as Mack carries over a steaming cup of coffee. “What next?”

I’m ready to slay my studies so when Rhaegar wins the Nocturus, I’ll be the best shadow to him in Everwilde. It’s the least I can do for Rhaegar saving me from Mr. Douche Canoe.

And Rhaegar has to win. If he doesn’t . . .

Nope. Not even imagining my future then.

17

“My brain can’t take anymore,” I mumble, kneading my knuckles into my temples. We’re entrenched on Mack’s bottom bunk, surrounded by empty Sour Patch Kids packages, Pringle cans, and a near-empty liter of orange Crush.

Thank God, her parents sent a care package full of her favorite treats, which we’ve managed to nearly demolish over the weekend.

We’ve also slammed a kajillion cups of coffee and my heart twitches weirdly in my chest.

“Almost done for tonight,” Mack promises.

I glare at the windowpanes being pelted by relentless snow. “Are you sure it’s night time? It could be midday for all we know.”

Mack turns her wrist to flash a hot-pink watch. “It’s set to Everwilde time.”

The watch face shows just after midnight.

We’ve already blown through elemental magic and soul magic, the two main types used by the Evermore, and are deep into the history of the Fae courts. It feels like months have passed, not days.

“Besides,” I continue, talking through a yawn. “What more is there to know? Summer hates Winter; Winter hates Summer. They’ve basically started every single war between Seelie and Unseelie since the dawn of time.”

“And the upcoming Nocturus may start another war,” Mack adds nonchalantly.

“Kill me now,” I moan.

Mack laughs. Then her expression gets all serious, and she flips the screen of her laptop to face me, pointing at the map of what used to be the western half of the United States but is now Everwilde territory. “Name the courts and their territories.”

I spout off the courts in each location as she watches proudly. The academy sits in the center of all the territories, a neutral Island surrounded by a magical sea.

In addition to the huge wall and wards surrounding the academy, the waters are enchanted with protection spells. All meant to keep the darklings out.

There are neutral cities, as well, off the nearby coasts, but first year Evermore students rarely leave campus.

With an impressed grin, Mack shuts her MacBook. “Enough for tonight. Don’t want your brain exploding all over the room. You need to be fresh for your first day of school tomorrow.”

Ugh. That. I’ve never felt so nervous about starting school before, and the knot of anxiety I’ve had since I arrived tightens at the thought.

Despite my nerves, I fall asleep almost immediately. I wake up a few hours later. Mack snores above me, tiny snorts that make me grin.

Too restless to fall back asleep, I pull out the photo of my parents from where I stashed it under my mattress. The light is too dim to see much, so I pad to the window until moonlight washes over the picture.

Fingerprints streak the glossy surface. I stare down at the people I’m supposed to remember, a ragged sigh escaping my lips. It took five years after my parents were murdered to finally look at their faces without reliving the night they died.

And that’s only because I ran away from the farm and found someone in Fort Worth, a woman who specialized in forbidden Everwilde artifacts. I had nothing to pay her, but she took pity on me and gave me the necklace around my neck to draw the tragic memory of my parents’ death away.

Only, the ruby stripped all my memories of them, right down to what they looked like, what their voices sounded like, how they smiled. I realized my mistake immediately, but when I returned to look for the woman, she was gone.

The owner of the diner next door told me she was a dirty-blood, a half-Fae half-human, and that a crowd had gathered around her apartment above her shop while she slept and scared her away.

Then he spit at her blue door and said, “Good riddance.”

Dirty-bloods don’t last long in the Tainted Zone. By law they’re not supposed to live in human lands, and the Fae pay handsomely in magical artifacts for information that leads to the capture and deportation of one back to Everwilde.

Meanwhile, full-blooded Fae with visas live in the Untouched Zone where they’re treated like celebrities.

“Gosh, I’m glad you guys aren’t alive to see how far we’ve fallen,” I say to the picture, waving it back and forth as I try to conjure a memory—any memory—of them.

But just like every other time, nothing surfaces. I touch my necklace, cool and hard between my breasts. I’ve pushed aside what happened in the lake because the memory is too painful, but now, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something to my pendant beyond the stored memory.

Setting the photo on the windowsill, I press my hands over the glass, the pane startlingly cold. Outside, snow drizzles the air, but there’s something almost peaceful about it. In the distance, the half-moon glints off the frozen surface of the lake.

I can’t see the main campus building from here, but it’s out there. And in a few short hours, I’ll be inside the academy’s walls.

The familiar nervous pang begins in my gut as I start mulling over what my first day will be like. All the usual worries flash through my mind.

Will I know anyone in my classes? What if I’m still too far behind to understand what they teach? How will I find my way around?

Then my thoughts take a dark turn. What if I see the Winter Prince? We’ve been holed up inside our dorm for two days, long enough to nearly forget the possessive way he claimed me.

But now . . . well now the thought of being near him fills me with anxiety. The scrape of his sword from its scabbard when he nearly executed me echoes inside my skull. The way he looked at me earlier, the way he pervades my mind . . .

All at once, a dizziness washes over me. My thoughts go blank. My vision dark. I blink and suddenly I’m in someone else’s room. A huge, opulent chamber ten times the size of my dorm room.

I’m not actually there, I realize. I’m in someone else’s mind. A male someone. Seeing what they’re seeing. Feeling what they’re feeling.

Speaking of feeling . . . oh my God . . . he, whoever he is, is sitting in bed without a shred of clothes.

He looks to his right, and I recognize the royal blue hair spilled over the pillow. The blue lips, smeared slightly and swollen, like they’ve been kissed hard.

Inara.

She looks up at him, her big dewy white eyes full of adoration. But all he feels is disgust. I can sense the dark emotion swirling around him. Whoever this is, he’s awash in darkness. Beyond that, there’s a cold indifference inside him.

Layers and layers of it, like a shield.

He slips from bed, still fully naked, and saunters over to the fireplace. I can feel the warmth of the flames kissing his bare skin. Can feel the cold lurking beneath his flesh.

“I don’t know why you insist on that stupid fire,” Inara says. “Doesn’t the heat bother you?”

“I like looking at it,” he answers in a distorted voice. Being inside his head, his words sound like they come from underwater.

“You like looking at it?” The derision in her tone annoys him, but she sounds oblivious. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave.”

Inara huffs as she hunts around the bed for her clothes. When she’s zipped back into her dress—a silver, sequined thing that looks gorgeous on her—she glides over to him, making sure he notices the way the slippery fabric hugs her hips.

He does. I can feel his desire rise along with his disgust.

“Didn’t you like what we did earlier?” she purrs, stroking a hand down his shoulder.

“I did,” he admits coldly. “And now I would like for you to leave.”

Anger flashes in her eyes, and she bares her teeth at him. “You’re a dick.”

He turns and stares into the fire as she leaves. I can feel his mind calm as he watches the flames dance and shiver, even as the heat repulses him. There’s a mirror just above the mantle, and I desperately try to will him to move into a position where I can make out who’s head I’m in.

Instead, he reaches up and retrieves something hidden inside a silver heart-shaped box. Little foxes and deer are engraved on the sides, the inside red velvet.

As he peers down at what he took, I see it’s a picture. Of a girl . . .

I gasp when I make out the long, wavy blonde-white hair tumbling over one shoulder. The hazel eyes that can’t quite hide their sadness. The wide nose I hate and lips one might call kissable. A little scar indents the skin just above my mouth.

Me. He’s looking at a picture of me. A school portrait taken my sophomore year. My heart spikes into my throat as I recall how it just went missing one day. I looked everywhere for it because my hair actually cooperated, for once, and my skin was clear. Making it my best school photo ever.