So I’m not invisible.

My heart spikes into my throat as the prince holds my stare. A surge of electricity zips up my spine.

Then he winks, his stupid, infernal lips mouthing, thank you.

What the everliving—

I don’t even see the prince gesture, but an explosive boom shudders the forest. Ice and snow burst off the branches. Ruby wakes with a screech as an avalanche of snow and wind scour the trees, nearly knocking me from my perch.

Dark, ominous clouds blacken the sky and blot out the moon, veiling the meadow in layers of shadows.

His power—he didn’t use it up. It’s everywhere. Vibrating from the trees; swelling the air; roiling in the dark clouds above. A maelstrom of magic and death.

Tightening my hold, I turn my attention back to the meadow to see Rhaegar caught inside a tornado of ice and snow. The churning force lifts him into the sky, higher, higher . . . and then slams him down with a bone-cracking thud.

The scream of a Summer Fae in the crowd pierces the quiet and then abruptly dies.

No one speaks as we all focus on Rhaegar where he lies on his back. A universal question on everyone’s lips. Is he dead?

He tries to lift his head—so hurt but alive.

Icy spikes larger than my forearm shoot from the storm clouds toward Rhaegar. Horrified, I force myself to look at the Summer Fae, sure he’s been impaled. My mind readying itself for blood and horror.

But the spikes instead nail his clothing through the thick crust of snow and into the frozen ground, trapping him like a butterfly pinned to a board by its wings. Two spikes at his shoulders. Two at his waist. Countless more along the leather fabric of his pants. They even pin the top of his pine-green cape, spread out behind him like alien blood.

The snow beneath him becomes alive, white tendrils of ice twisting over his body until he’s practically entombed. Only his face remains uncovered.

And his fear, unlike the prince’s, is absolutely real.

Whistling, the prince closes the distance between them in blood-chilling silence. He playfully twirls the sword that, moments ago, was ready to slice through bone and flesh into his heart, ending him.

When he stands directly over Rhaegar, any humor drains from his features, his jaw tight and eyes emotionless. “What will it be, Rhaegar? Death . . . or mercy?”

A collective gasp fills the cold air. Basil frowns, worrying his fingers. A few of the Unseelie boo at the option, obviously wanting the prince to kill Rhaegar and be done with it.

I look to Ruby, who’s now wide awake, her mouth gaping at the events.

“What happens if he asks for mercy?” I whisper.

Ruby shakes her head, as if the idea is too impossible to fathom. “He would never . . . such a cowardly thing would make him an outcast from his court forever. He would never,” she repeats.

But he does. The entire ring of onlookers goes quiet as Rhaegar’s voice, broken and ashamed, spills into the meadow. “Mercy. I ask for . . . mercy.”

The prince nods; the cage of ice melts away. The Unseelie side goes wild, a victorious cry rising from their ranks while the Seelie turn their backs on Rhaegar and quickly flee into the woods.

Half in shock, I slide down the tree, not caring that the bark tears at my face and clothes. Not caring that someone might see me. Not caring about anything in this moment but the horrifying truth.

He used me.

He tricked me.

The thought worms under my skin as I turn it over in my mind. The way he gave me the book and let me believe, in his arrogance, he hadn’t read it. That same arrogance was used in the arena to goad Rhaegar into thinking he’d used the last of his power.

In allowing Rhaegar to assume his power was gone, he lured the Summer Fae into letting his guard down. But it was more than that.

Any number of times, he could have ended Rhaegar.

Instead he destroyed the one thing that Rhaegar valued over all else: his honor.

Why? What twisted Faerie game is he playing? More importantly, what sort of person can wield their emotions so expertly, like a weapon honed to perfection?

A Fae prince. I should have expected as much.

The moment my boots crunch the snowy ground, I break into a sprint. Ruby dives into my pocket just in time. I crash blindly through the path, overwhelmed with emotion.

He used me. He played me. And I fell right into his trap. My stupidity ended in the one thing I didn’t want to happen: I am the Winter Prince’s slave and shadow.

We are intimately linked for the next four years.

And now that I know what he’s really capable of . . . now that I know how he wields his emotions to make anyone see exactly what he wants . . .

There can’t be a more dangerous Fae in all of Everwilde.

32

When I finally fall asleep, I tumble into a pit of nightmares. Each one worse than the last. In the first, Rhaegar has completely shifted into his wolf form. He’s injured, curled on his side in the snow, his onyx fur contrasted deeply against the pure white. His voice is a half-howl as he calls for mercy, but the prince runs him through with a sword anyway.

In the other, I’m lost in a blizzard. Slowly freezing to death. The Winter Prince reaches for me but when I take his hand, he turns to ice, his fingers shattering inside mine.

Then I toss and turn on my cot, trapped in that ethereal dream state where I’m not quite sleeping and not fully awake. The fire has blown out and my breath spills from my lips like mist to join the others.

Everyone is asleep, but a slithering noise comes from beneath the metal beds. Like something slowly dragging itself along the floorboards of the gym.

Gathering my courage, I move my head to discover what’s making the noise, but I’m paralyzed. Unable to look, to blink, to cry for help. The slithering grows closer. Closer. Now it’s beneath my bed.

There’s a hiss near my head.

In my periphery, I catch a long, slender nose gliding along my pillow. Dark green scales tipped black glitter in the half-light, a pink forked tongue flickering softly. Finger-length white horns crown a serpentine head.

The basilisk. A black shadowy mist leaks from his orange eyes, his vertical pupils blown wide. He hasn’t looked at me yet . . . but the moment he does, I’ll be turned to stone.

His body crushes mine as he slides over my waist, his heaviness forcing the air from my lungs. He begins to turn. I remember the info on his cage explaining that he pins his victims before forcing them to look into his eyes.

All at once, a bright red warmth pulses at my chest. The snake hisses, flinching from the glow, and then its heavy body thumps the floorboards as it drops. The horrible weight lifts from my chest. Then the rustling noise of its scales scraping wood grow fainter.

When I wake up, Mack sits at the end of my cot, one hand over her mouth. Tears clump in the dark brown eyelashes framing her blue eyes. I follow her gaze to the next cot over, where a crowd of students gather. One of them shifts enough that I can see what they’re looking at.

It’s the Spring Court shadow from last night. Her eyes are shut, the soft pink hush of dawn streaming through the windows and falling over her face.

She could be asleep, but deep in my heart I know she’s not. Not with her ashen skin, pebbly and coarse. The way her mouth contorts as if still gasping for breath. Lips rigid and stormy-blue. Beneath the white sheet, one bare arm hangs to the side, gray and hard as . . . stone.

It’s as if someone stole a statue from outside and placed it in the bed as a joke. But it’s not a joke.

My pulse jumps erratically in my wrist as I quickly dress. My dream felt so real. What if it wasn’t a dream after all?

Professor Balefire, the Mythological Creatures professor, arrives with some fourth years. He orders us to leave so he can begin the search for the basilisk. Under his breath, I hear him muttering over and over.

“Don’t know how he got out,” he says, tugging at one of his tufted ears. “The cage was locked. I checked myself. Don’t know how . . .”

Snickering draws my attention to Reina and her friends. They’re laughing and taking photos with their cell phones, for Shimmer’s sake. When Reina notices my glare, she turns the camera on me.

“Aren’t you sad, Summer?” she asks sweetly. “You are literally so hideous that you turned an innocent girl to stone.”

Mack grabs me before I can react. “Not worth it,” she whispers.

Furious, I storm from the gym. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to my Sunday training with Eclipsa.

Evelyn and Mack try to cheer me up, but all I can think about is the poor girl who died. Rumors are swirling about what happened. Theories range from a spurned Fae lover spelling the basilisk to the Mythological Creatures instructor, Professor Balefire, being to blame. After my training with Eclipsa, the headmistress called me in for a statement.

She was not happy, and I had to give two statements: one to Mr. Willis, and one to a representative from the Council for the Mistreatment of Humans.

Mack gets up from the lower bunk and rifles in her closet. “Enough of this pity party. We’re taking you out.”

“Where?” Normally I would argue, but I need something to wash this horrible weekend from my memory permanently.

I duck just in time to miss the black blouse she tosses at my head. “Get dressed and brush your teeth. I have a surprise.”

The top is meant for her curvier chest and is a little big, but I knot it at the bottom and it looks cute. My jeans are the same frumpy ones I arrived with. Only now, thanks to a steady diet of food and some new muscles, I actually fill them out.

My new coat goes on last. I’ve learned to assume that wherever we go, it’ll be freezing.

I glance in the mirror right before we leave. My hair is the same train-wreck as always, but it’s kinda sexy knotted high on my head. And I notice my face is glowing, my sunken cheekbones filled out and eyes bright.

Fresh food and exercise for the win.

The surprise ends up being a secret portal in the basement that takes us to another city. Apparently when Mack’s parents were here, they discovered the portal, and only a handful of people know about its existence.

Also, apparently Mack doesn’t play around when it comes to surprises.