But I’m already accustomed to magic and its many, many conveniences. We can set the temperature in our dorm just by telling the magical fire what degree we want the room kept, we can find our place in the academy books just by saying, “nerum lantius,” which means find last page read.

And today, in the commons, I discovered a magical coffee mug that fills to the brim with hot, delicious lattes whenever I ask.

I’m a little annoyed that it took me this long to find that party trick, but, yeah, magic has lost its wowing abilities. On the other hand, the Upper East Side of Manhattan is blowing my mind.

I tug on the hem of my tight blouse, trying to pull it down to cover my navel. “He was wearing livery, for Fae’s sake!”

The charm on her bracelet was supposed to take us into the lobby of her apartment, but apparently it needs tweaking because it spat us onto the street outside the Gothic skyscraper.

She sighs as we enter an elevator with an operator—because rich people can’t punch their own buttons, apparently. The operator hardly glances at the two sprites fluttering about our heads.

He must see this stuff all the time.

According to Mack, this building was one of the first to allow integration, and they have a least twelve Fae families who split their time between here and Everwilde.

Just like the footman, the operator gives Mack a curt nod. “Penthouse floor, Miss Fairchild?”

“Yes, please, Mr. Phillips,” Mack says before throwing me a sheepish grin. “What?”

The Penthouse? I mouth.

She shrugs. “Go big or go home, right?”

Mr. Phillips—an older gentleman with a gray handlebar mustache—and I exchange a look. The kind of look between two people who will never own an apartment in any floor of this building.

As soon as we exit, I follow Mack and Evelyn down a mirrored hallway. Soft cream rugs line the white marble floor. I frown at myself in the mirror. My jeans—Mack’s jeans—are stained from overuse, and the sleeves of the gold jacket she gave me to finish off the ensemble hits just below my elbow.

I refused to take any of the clothes from the prince’s manor, but now I regret my stubbornness. I’m meeting Mack’s parents. By now, after hearing all of Mack’s stories, I practically love them, even though I’ve never met them. I want to make a good impression.

“Stop fussing, you look great,” she orders as she drags me to the dark gray door. “Tell her, Evelyn.”

Evelyn gives a feeble nod. This is the least I’ve ever heard her talk.

The moment the bell rings, an excited cry comes from the other side and the door swings open. Two men wrap Mack in an embrace.

Startled by the unannounced hugging, I retreat a step as I study them. Both men are handsome, in their mid-forties, and in good shape. But that’s where the similarities end. The one who practically lifted Mack off her feet has soft green eyes, cropped red hair that’s thinning on top, and thick muscles that scream CrossFit at least twice a day.

The other man is dark skinned and wears a dinner jacket with fashionably distressed jeans. He’s slender and tall, with a shaved head and impeccable eyebrows. I have him pegged as more of an elliptical/hot yoga kind of guy.

As if just remembering me, Mack ducks from the red-haired man’s grasp and shoots me a smile. “Summer Solstice, meet my dads, Nick”—she nods to the red-haired dude—“and Sebastian.”

Dads? Both men are beaming their picket-fence straight teeth at me. Then Nick grabs me in a vise-like hug. “So this is the girl we’ve already heard so much about.”

I lock eyes with Mack, wondering exactly what she told them about me.

“I might have texted them about the Shadow Selection, and the bar incident with the Winter Prince.” She flashes an apologetic smile. “And possibly about winning the cup.”

“Honey,” Sebastian says, waggling his perfect eyebrows at me, “Evermore gossip spreads like wildfire. Just assume we know everything.”

My unease must show because Nick laughs. “Yes, I’ve heard the prince is quite enamored with you. Is he as delicious as they say?”

Sebastian tsks at Nick. “First, of course he is—he’s the Winter Prince. Second, give the girl some space. You’re smothering the poor dear.”

“Darling you know you love my smothering,” Nick amends, but he does, indeed, give me space.

I flash Sebastian a relieved smile. After they both shower Evelyn with hugs and questions about her family, we all trail inside as Nick and Sebastian take turns gabbing. Apparently I’m the talk of their tiny circle. Poor Tainted Zone girl gets into the academy and becomes shadow to the Winter Prince.

“It’s like a fairytale,” Nick proclaims.

“They’re talking about making one spot available each year for underprivileged students from the Tainted Zone,” Sebastian adds. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

I nod dully, praying my true feelings don’t show in my face.

High up in their fantasy world penthouse, with its flying buttresses and terracotta gargoyles, Mack’s dads have no idea what the borderlands are really like. Most kids in the Tainted Zone don’t want a scholarship to the Fae academy; they just want clean water and enough food to last the winter.

We all trickle into the kitchen. A stunning dining table set for twenty spreads across the room, but my eyes go to the people filling it.

“Mack,” I whisper-yell as I tug on the sleeve of her ivory leather jacket. “You didn’t say there’d be other people here.”

I glance over the gilded sideboard buffet to see Ruby taking bites out of blocks of undoubtedly expensive cheese. She loads her arms up with yellow sugared candies the size of her head, ignoring the shocked looks from the guests.

Shimmer help me.

“Oh,” Nick says, flicking his hand at the table. “That’s just one of Sebastian’s casual lunch parties.”

“Lunch?”

Mack twirls a strand of indigo hair around her finger. “They host them on Fae time.”

Right. Most Fae eat lunch around five o’clock, and dinner around eleven. But at the academy lunch is closer to three o’clock.

Evelyn’s eyes brighten. “I love Fae lunch, and I’m starving. Do we have time to join them?”

I almost hug Mack when she shakes her head. “Nope, we’re on a mission. Look hot as frack at the Winter Formal, remember?”

After a round of informal introductions, we grab some Fae delicacies—candied fig and a type of soft, tart cheese rolled in a layer of pastry so light it crumbles in your fingers—and catch a cab to the dress shop.

The store appears tiny from the outside. The brick studio has no signage and is tucked between a bakery and a tattoo shop. But inside is another story entirely. Rack upon rack of the most beautiful custom gowns I’ve ever seen grace the walls. Each piece exquisite.

A dress with a skirt made entirely of dandelions spelled not to blow away. A flowy ensemble that looks created from giant pink rose petals. A sleek black dress plated with metallic black scales.

Definitely not in Amarillo anymore, Summer.

As soon as we entered and the bell above the door tinkles, a pixie Fae comes out from the back room carrying an armful of buttery-gold silk. Glasses perch on his nose, his skin a light shade of moss.

He takes one look at our human features, frowns, and says, “Can I help you?”

Before I can utter a word, Ruby rises above us, arms crossed over her chest. “You are looking at the shadow of the Winter Prince. Show some respect, pix.”

The Pixie pushes up his glasses to study me. I lift my eyebrows. I’ll never get used to the shrewd way the Fae stare. Whatever he finds, it must be passable because he snaps his fingers and a swarm of sprites descend with measuring tape.

“I know the perfect color for you,” he says, leading us into a private room. A sprite with clear wings flies over and offers us the Fae version of champagne from a vineyard in the Winter Court territories.

Mack takes one of the bubbling flutes, and when Evelyn waves hers away, mumbling about suddenly not feeling well, Mack snatches Evelyn’s as well.

“Do you have any food here?” Evelyn asks. “I’m really hungry. I think that’s why I have such a headache.”

As the sprite flutters off to find Evelyn some crackers, I stare at Evelyn and try not to frown. She’s been quiet the last couple of days. I think, despite her assurances to the contrary, that she’s worried about finals. She didn’t even comment when I casually mentioned the prince offered to buy me a dress.

I push the thought aside and down a swallow of the sweet, fizzy drink. Then I set the glass champagne flute on a metal side table and hold out my arms. I’m actually relieved to have someone make all the decisions for me. I wouldn’t have the first clue about picking a dress, or what colors flatter my skin tone; I’ve always worn whatever was available.

When all my measurements are taken, the pixie brings over a fold of fabric. I stare at the amethyst-purple silk. “I’m not sure—”

My words trail away the moment he brings the material up to my face and I catch my reflection in the mirror. A gasp tumbles from my lips. The color brings out the gold in my hazel eyes and makes my skin look radiant. Mack and Evelyn murmur their approval, and then Mack holds out her two drinks and clinks them together.

“To kicking this fancy ball’s ass,” Mack says.

“I’ll drink to that,” I mutter, finishing my glass.

Ruby waggles her eyebrows. “The prince won’t know what hit him.”

48

I hang my dress on the closet door and stare at it, afraid if I blink, it will disappear. Or perhaps the magic used to meld all the pieces into a seamless gown will fade away and the dress will fall apart.

Mack sighs. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. “Summer, you’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Careful?” I laugh, not sure where’s she going with this.