Larissa
Two weeks.
It’s been two weeks since I stood in the Twilit Keep. Two weeks since the Prison, and the shadow beast, and . . . Alaric. Two weeks since I barely escaped with my life and ended up with this blood-cursed noose waiting to tighten around my throat.
But even with all of that, what’s hit me the hardest isn’t what I suspected—namely some massive magical-bullshit induced PTSD. Instead, it’s the boys. It’s how, other than that first night back when I was too exhausted to fight them, I can’t relax in their presence. I’m always on high alert, and I’ve been avoiding them—as well as my feelings for them—as best I can.
Those are the thoughts that keep intruding into my brain as I sit in the Academy’s library, trying and failing to focus on the research paper I’m supposed to be writing for Professor Puckermoss’ class. Each student was assigned a specific region of Faerie to study, and it seems as though I’ve drawn the short straw. Which makes sense, honestly.
Puckermoss still hasn’t forgiven me for calling him a garden gnome.
But the assigned reading that came along with my region—the Glimmerdark Caverns—is the true punishment. The moment I opened the thick, dust-covered tome, I was greeted with a fifty-page list of all the deadly flora and fauna lurking in its depths.
I’m not even out of the B’s. “Barbed Glowflys,” I mutter, squinting at the page. “Highly toxic. Can paralyze with a single touch.”
Lovely.
I flip to the next page, only to be greeted by a sketch of a grotesque creature that looks like a bloated tadpole with too many teeth. The caption informs me that it’s capable of vomiting acidic bile up to ten times a day.
“Charming,” I say under my breath, wrinkling my nose.
But just as I try to refocus, the sharp click of heels against the marble floor shatters my concentration. My heart leaps into my throat as a flash of gold enters the corner of my vision. Fingers tightening around the edge of the tome, I send up a silent, desperate prayer to whoever might be listening: Please, let her ignore me.
Of course, fate is not so kind.
Her tinkling laughter rings out—deceptively light and girlish—but I hear the venom lacing the sound. “Well, if it isn’t the little Unseelie pet.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Slowly, resigning myself to Vivienne’s bitchiness, I lift my face to meet her gaze. She stands a few feet away, blond hair perfectly coiffed, with her arms crossed over her uniform. She’s grinning down at me like she’s already won a game I didn’t even know we were playing.
But when her golden eyes dip to the hollow of my throat, my stomach hits the floor. “I see your boyfriends finally put a collar on you. Are they worried you’re going to run away?”
I try to ignore the tightness in my chest, the ever-present weight of the cursed pendant that refuses to budge no matter how hard I’ve tried.
Rein had caught me once, in the bathroom, yanking on the chain so violently that I’d left bruises around my neck. He didn’t laugh or gloat—he just lifted his finger and let me watch as, the muscles of his forearm straining, he used all his strength to try to pry his off. He didn’t have to say anything. The look in his eyes told me everything: You’re stuck with it. Just like me.
At least, until the knocker, Skarn, finds a way to help me.
I grit my teeth. Try to ignore the headache blooming behind my eyes. “I’m no one’s pet.”
But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel how hollow they are. How untrue.
Vivienne just flashes me her signature false smile. She leans in, as if we’re best friends about to share a secret.
“Maybe you’re right,” she says with a thoughtful hum. “Maybe I’ve got it backward. They certainly have become loyal guard dogs, haven’t they? You’ll have to tell me how you managed that trick.”
My jaw tightens. I want to brush her off, to pretend her words don’t hook into something raw within me. I wish it was that simple—the boys just protecting me because they care—but it’s a pretty lie I know better than to believe.
Her smirk deepens as her gaze flicks over my shoulder. My stomach clenches as I realize what—or who—she’s looking at.
I don’t need to turn. I feel him before I see him—the familiar shift in the air that marks a predator’s presence. Only it’s not frightening to me. It might make me an idiot, but it’s a comfort I sink into.
And yet, the heat of his gaze on my skin has me turning anyway.
I’m prepared to be annoyed—or at least, pretend to be—but as my eyes trail over him, my irritation withers into something else. Concern.
His complexion is pale, almost sickly, and deep shadows bruise the skin beneath his eyes. The topknot he usually wears is gone, leaving his auburn curls in a disheveled mess that seems so unlike him. I try to stifle the knot of worry tightening in my chest, but it creeps in anyway, winding itself around my ribs.
“Well, well, shadow girl. Been keeping him up all night?” Vivienne snickers.
I tear my gaze from Bres and turn to her, leveling a glare. “Is there a reason you’re so obsessed with my love life?”
“Oh, no. I just know a train wreck when I see one. And it’s exactly the kind of disaster I love to watch.”
With a final smirk, she turns, hips swaying, and sashays away.
Bres is at my side a second later, glowering at her retreating form. “What did the bitch queen want?”
“Princess,” I correct, so disgustingly aware of her royal heritage—of my heritage—that I could gag. I guess I could’ve thrown the fact that I outrank her in her face, but that would mean acknowledging both who I am and who she is to me. And I’m not ready for that.“Bitch princess. And nothing. She was just trying to press my buttons.”
“Did it work?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I study him. Up close, he looks even worse. He doesn’t have his usual predatory edge, the sharpness that makes him dangerous even when he’s smiling. He just seems . . . deflated.
“You were gone when we woke up this morning. Everything okay?”
Bres’ smirk is slow to spread, but when it does, it shows a hint of his pointed teeth. He lifts a hand to his heart, all dramatics. “Is that genuine concern I hear? Wow, Lare-Bear, I’m touched.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”
I try to ignore the way his smirk falters. The way he seems to shrink just a little more.
Sighing, I gather my things. I’ve barely started the research, but I know Bres won’t leave until I do. The boys have agreed that I’m not to step foot in the Blackwood alone, and I have to admit they’re right. The semi-sentient forest has made its hatred of my Seelie blood very clear, and the last thing I feel like is getting trapped on its dark, maze-like trails. Again.
I need them, damn it.
And as a draft curls through the library, rustling my pages and brushing against my bare legs, I can’t help but think of how nice it will be to climb into bed, surrounded by their warmth. It’s the first week of October, and House Azure doesn’t exactly come equipped with central heat.
“Let me just tell Emme goodnight,” I say, slinging my battered backpack over my shoulder. “Then we can go.”
Bres rolls his eyes, exasperated—as if this is some massive inconvenience—but he follows.
The Library is cavernous, its towering bookshelves stretching into the shadows, their heights brushing against vaulted ceilings. It takes me a moment of searching to catch sight of her.
She’s at the far end of a row dedicated to books written in dead languages, nose buried in one of the largest tomes I’ve ever seen. The cracked leather binding is as thick as my forearm, its weighty presence making her look even smaller in comparison. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t notice me as she steps into a connecting aisle, disappearing behind the shelves.
I move closer—just as there’s a muffled oomph, followed by the unmistakable thud of books hitting the floor.
I rush forward and find her sprawled on the ground. Her skirt has ridden up indecently high, knees awkwardly poking out as she scrambles to sit up. The massive book lies beside her, its splayed pages bent at painful angles—an offense that would normally have Emme gasping in horror.
I step toward her, ready to help her up—but the look on her face freezes me mid-step.
Her usual caramel-toned skin has gone ashen, her wide eyes glassy with something between shock and fear.
She looks like she’s just seen a ghost.
“Miss Aguilar, are you—oh!”
A voice startles me, and I turn.
Professor Forsythe stands there, dressed in his usual tweed suit, but his tortoiseshell glasses hang askew from one ear, clear evidence of their collision. If I thought Emme looked rattled, his expression takes it to another level.
His mouth opens, then closes, soundless for a moment before he finally breathes out—
“The Library . . .”
And—oh, shit.
He’s finally remembered her.
The whispered words seem to snap Emme out of her stupor. She scrambles to her feet, not even bothering to retrieve the fallen book.
“Excuse me, Professor,” she mutters, her voice brittle, her gaze locked on the floor.
I gape, eyes darting between them. The air between them hums—charged with tension, with something profoundly awkward and unsaid. Before I can even form a coherent thought, Emme’s fingers clamp around my arm with surprising force, and she drags me away.
We nearly collide with Bres, who’s leaning casually against a nearby bookshelf, arms are crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “This have something to do with the forbidden teacher-student make-out sesh? Had a repeat performance lately?” he drawls, pushing off the self to fall into step beside us.
Oh, God. I’d forgotten he overheard us talking about that weeks ago, when he’d come to walk me to the dorms the night we drank the Faerie wine. The night before everything . . . else happened.
Emme is too rattled to notice that the asshole of a predatory-man-fish-fae trailing us, but I’m painfully aware of his presence.
“He’s been like a hound on my scent for weeks,” Emme mutters miserably. Her brows knit so tightly together it looks painful. “He was fevered and half-delusional that night, and he didn’t have his glasses. He lost them in the woods when he was running from the werewolves, then when the Queen came—” She throws up her free hand, shaking her head as her voice trembles. “Everything happened so fast. I didn’t even know his name!”
Her breath quickens and her eyes go wide. “Oh my goddess,” she whispers. “This is the worst, most awkward . . . What am I going to do? I should leave. Withdraw. I can—”
I grab her shoulder and jerk her to a stop, giving her a firm shake. “Calm down. No one is going anywhere.”
“He’s my Head of House! And he freakin’ kissed me!”
“Blackmail him,” Bres interjects, sounding totally serious.
We both swivel to look at him like he’s just sprouted an extra head.
“What?” he says, glancing between us as if we’re the crazy ones. “A little blackmail never hurt anyone. It’s a viable option.”
The Library’s massive clock—a grand, ornate thing ringed by the symbols of each of the eight Houses—chimes the hour. Bres groans.
“As much as I just love hearing about your drama, little Gray, I’m fucking tired.” He swings pleading eyes toward me. “Can we please go?”
“Christ, Bres. Could you be any more of an asshole?”
“Absolutely,” he replies without missing a beat.
I glare at him, but he just holds my stare, smirk unwavering. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, I pull Emme into a hug.
“Just . . . stop freaking out. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, when we have his class first period?” Her voice wavers, as miserable as she looks.
I wince. “Well, there’s always breakfast . . . right?”
~~~
A chorus of ribbiting frogs heralds our arrival—along with the telltale grinding of stone on stone as the gargoyles rise from the murky waters of House Azure’s moat to glare at me.
And they do glare at me.
The first night I came here—when Al chased down and ate that Redcap who tried to find me into the Blackwood—he told me their menacing looks weren’t personal. That they were just assessing me, making sure I was one of them. An Unseelie. That if I wasn’t, they’d rip me apart and drag the pieces into the depths.
Yet after dozens of crossings, their stone eyes still track me like I’m one wrong step from being devoured.
At least now I know why they don’t trust me.
A big thank you to my—and apparently Vivienne’s—Seelie father.
But, once again, they let me pass with nothing but silent, sharp-toothed disapproval.
Inside, the moment Bres and I step over the threshold of what I’ve finally learned the students of House Azure affectionately call the Ruin—AKA, the House Azure dorm—we’re hit with noise.
Not the usual mix of sex, music, and laughter, but something subtler. A susurration of murmuring voices, dozens of them, overlapping in low, urgent waves.
Bres and I exchange a glance—and fuck me if I don’t notice, even now, how damn pretty he is. That jawline could cut glass, his freckles are unfairly perfect, and don’t even get me started on the dreamy, depthless blue of his eyes.
But there’s something else there too. A flicker of question, sharp and unspoken.
What the hell is going on?
There’s always an edge between us, a pull neither of us ever fully acknowledges—it’s like that between me and all three of the boys. But now? Now it’s sharper, charged with something that hums just beneath the surface.
Bres tilts his head toward the common room, then, with a shockingly gentlemanly flourish, gestures me forward. “After you, Lare-Bear.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse thrums just a little harder.
Together, we move toward the common room, bracing for whatever new hell awaits us inside.
~~~
No sooner have we crossed the threshold than we spy the biggest dude in the room—Al.
I try to keep my heart from racing, my stomach from flipping, my panties from wetting—fuck, no. But who am I kidding? Fighting the memory of what it was like to feel him inside me is a battle I don’t have the energy for.
And as my eyes scan the room, I quickly realize what else I don’t have the energy for.
Alaric’s mother.
Headmistress Morrigan Blackwood.
She stands in the center of the common room—a space that was once the great hall of this castle—at the base of the dais Rein likes to claim as his own.
She’s dressed as she always is: in a severe pencil skirt, a blouse that looks like its been starched within an inch of its life, and a bun so tight it has to be head-ache inducing. But tonight, there’s one very important difference.
She’s not alone.
This time, she has a human girl with her.
