A strange calm settles over me. “You want me to unmask him from the inside?”
“When he caged you, he made the assumption that you’re weak, magicless. But you’re not, are you?”
My hands clench over the table. “Hell, no.”
“There’s my girl. Unmask Hellebore and he could lead us to the axe fragments.”
“If he’s given them to someone else?” Mack asks.
Eclipsa taps her tea glass as she thinks. “Not ideal, but taking away the Darken’s most powerful ally will give us more time to stop him.”
“That all sounds amazing,” I begin, picking at a sticky bit of linoleum with my fingernail, “but how am I supposed to get close to Hellebore when he keeps me locked away?”
Mack perks up. “What if we spread rumors about how Summer is never seen with Hellebore?”
An impressed grin overtakes Eclipsa’s face, and Mack practically beams as Eclipsa nods. “I have contacts inside all the courts.” Eclipsa winks at me. “Expect an invitation from your betrothed in, oh, twenty-four hours.”
We finish our tea. Just before we stand to leave, I ask the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since I saw Eclipsa. “How is he?”
I can tell by the way her mouth tightens at the corners that she knows immediately who I’m referring to.
For a moment, the aloof Lunar Court assassin drops her mask, allowing me to glimpse the worry in her eyes. I’m surprised by the intensity of her concern.
Her focus shifts just behind me to the door, and she resumes her impenetrable armor. “Hellebore struck a mortal blow when he claimed you, and the poison lurking in our bodies gives us all agonizingly vivid nightmares.”
“I know. I experience them every night.”
Her throat bobs in a ragged swallow, and I wonder what terrible visions the Bloodstar poison inflicts upon her own dreams. “You have to know, Summer, the only reason he doesn’t start a war over you at this point is because he won’t sacrifice his friends.”
A chill inches down my spine. “He would die to save me?”
“You really have no idea the lengths he will go to protect you, do you? Summer, you are his mate, the future wife of the Winter Court King and rightful queen to two of the biggest Fae courts in existence. He would give his life for you in a heartbeat, as would I.”
“I don’t want that. I can’t lose either of you.” My heart is racing. “Just tell me he’s going to be okay.”
She exhales, sending errant strands of her silver-white hair blowing back. “The Winter Prince survived the Darken. He survived his father’s callousness and his mother’s betrayal.” Her eyes sharpen as they focus on me. “And he survived losing you once before. He is the Winter Court Prince and heir and he will get through this, Summer. You both will.”
Her gaze is steady, but something in her voice sends my stomach into free fall.
My mate is not okay. If our plan doesn’t work out, if I can’t stop Hellebore and the Darken, I’ll lose him forever.
3
Eclipsa was wrong. The invitation to Hellebore Narcissus’s back-to-school party arrives in the evening. Seven hours later, to be exact, dramatically delivered on the silent wings of dragonflies. The jewel-toned insects flit in from an open window, a glittery cloud of metallic green and deep purplish-red. Their fragile wings move so fast they’re a blur as they deposit the salmon-pink envelope on the pillow of my unmade queen-size platform bed.
For a moment, I can’t reconcile the delicate creatures with the city just outside my window—blaring honks and screeching tires, the scent of garbage, exhaust, and sweet mini cakes from the vendor below. I can’t recall the last time I saw an insect in this bustling world of metal and concrete and chaos.
Miraculously, Ruby senses the creatures despite being in a dead sleep. Her head snaps up beside the stuffed giraffe she sleeps with, Tall Goat.
Tall Goat hails from the Bronx Zoo. He was purchased after Ruby had a tantrum in front of the giraffe enclosure because she wanted to ride the “tall goats.”
Now, Tall Goat tumbles unceremoniously from the bed as Ruby erupts into the air prepared for battle. My would-be savior dives after the silent messengers, smacks headfirst into a polished bedpost, and drops to the ivory and gold shag rug, out cold.
The dragonflies disappear into the New York City sky. After ensuring Ruby is only stunned and not, in fact, dead, I face off with the object I’ve been dreading all summer.
My first summons from my sadistic Fae fiancé. I know this is part of the plan but it feels more like a summons from my executioner than the answer to my prayers.
A frigid shadow drapes over me, despite the blistering hot summer air. I haven’t seen Prince Hellebore Narcissus since the day he ruined my life. It was easy after a while to forget how truly cruel he is. Now . . .
The envelope feels heavy in my fingers, cold even. The invitation itself could be made of slivers of ice with the chills it sends into my body.
I scan the letter twice before I calm down enough to make sense of the words.
Greetings, my beloved betrothed. I require your immediate presence at my upcoming soiree. Don’t disappoint me. We all know what happens when I don’t get my way.
P.S. Please dress accordingly, befitting my stature and rank.
Yours forever and ever,
Hellebore Narcissus, Spring Court Heir
“Pompous bastard.” I blow out a shaky breath just as Ruby rouses, rubbing her grape-sized head. A purplish knot sprouts from her forehead like a horn, a shade darker than her long magenta hair.
As soon as she spies the invitation in my hand, she darts for the poor, overly expensive cardstock and shreds it with surprising ferocity.
Ruby dusts off her small hands as she bobs and weaves in front of me, her iridescent wings fluttering so fast they’re a blur. “You never got the invitation. Problem solved.”
“I love where your heart is, but that psycho will just keep sending them. And when he tires of that, he’ll hurt someone I love.”
Eight public events a month. That’s what I owe him according to the contract my mother keeps locked in her home office. Inside an iron safe. Guarded by countless death spells that kill in less time than it takes to blink.
Apparently, contracts have been known to magically change if not protected.
If that doesn’t sum up my current situation, nothing does. My entire life—spread out on fifty-two slips of crisp white paper. One typo or magically manipulated word away from spending eternity in the sadistic Spring Court Heir’s red room of pain.
You want this.
I think that three times to little effect.
I don’t want this. I need this. As much as I loathe Hellebore, I have to actually be near him to uncover his secrets.
This is a good thing. Good, Summer.
“Let me kill him,” Ruby whispers. “I hear your mortal cries at night when you sleep. I can sense the pain from being separated from your mate. For that alone, the Spring Court Heir deserves to have his tiny balls rammed into his throat so he can choke on them.”
My heart clenches, even if I do agree Hellebore deserves that and more. Ruby would do it—if I asked her. Sometimes it feels as if Ruby, Eclipsa, and Mack are the only friends I have left. The others are prisoners of Hellebore’s whims, chained to his every twisted desire. Which includes preventing them from seeing me. Even Eclipsa is limited to visiting only a few times a week for training.