Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,115

head into his nose, warm blood splattering my face, my suit, the sand.

Still he just stares, as if he can’t believe I almost tricked him.

“Do it,” I hiss, tears streaming down my face. “You know you want to. Cut me.”

He clicks his tongue, the pity in his eyes worse than the hatred, worse than the cruel disregard. “Let me guess. If I had spilled your blood, the contract would have been null and void. Clever.” He picks up the knife, tapping his finger over the sharp point. Blood drips from his handsome face. “You gambled everything on that, didn’t you? It was smart, commendable even, but you lost. Now beg for mercy.”

I can hardly see through the tears, but I’m not crying because I’m afraid. I’m pissed. Now there’s nothing stopping Hellebore from raising the Darken. He has all the pieces of the axe in his possession. He has an army of darklings. He’s managed to weaken the only court who posed a threat—the Winter Court.

And now he has me.

I look him in the eyes, making sure to convey every ounce of my hatred and disgust, hold my head high, and say, “Fuck you. I would rather die.”

A hush falls over the stands. Behind me, I hear Eclipsa gasp. In the recesses of my mind, Valerian gives a snarl of raw pain. No! Ask for mercy, Summer.

I wish I could tell him why. Why I would rather die than be caged and forced into servitude by Hellebore. Why I will happily forfeit my life—and all the amazing things I have to live for—if it means delaying the Darken’s resurrection and the enslavement of my world.

Hellebore blinks, surprised. Then he simply shrugs. “As you wish, Princess.”

The vines cut into my arms as they jerk me to my knees. Magus brings over Hellebore’s sword, his head hanging and sad gaze cast at his hooves.

I close my eyes. Mack’s scream pierces the night, but it sounds so distant. Not real. Surprisingly, boos trickle from the stands, growing louder. Who knew all I needed was death to become popular?

Eclipsa is screaming at Hellebore, calling him a coward. Worse.

Valerian’s voice slices through me, but I manage to block it out. I can’t let his words in. Can’t let his pain and anguish and fear enter or I’ll break down—and I refuse to give Hellebore that satisfaction.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping Valerian can hear me. “There’s no other way.”

A whoosh sounds just above me as Hellebore’s sword lifts. I brace for the next part as a string of thoughts rapid-fire into my mind.

What will they tell Zinnia? Will Valerian ever recover or will he break? Can Mack ever forgive me? What will happen to Ruby?

And then something—a gasp from the crowd, Hellebore’s chuckle—makes my eyes snap open. It takes a moment to understand what I’m seeing, but when I do—

“Wait!” Sheer panic fuels my tired muscles, and I somehow lurch to my feet, snapping the vine tethering me to the ground. My arms are still bound painfully behind me, and more vines slide around my ankles, staking me in place.

Valerian is on his knees in front of Hellebore. My mate, my beautiful, loyal, proud mate, kneeling in front of all the courts.

I buck and jerk and scream like an animal as I try to get to him until Hellebore slams me back to the ground. One arm breaks free, and I claw the sand, desperate to reach my mate.

But it’s too late. Valerian looks up at Hellebore with those proud eyes and says, “Mercy. I beg mercy for Summer.”

Hellebore practically purrs with triumph as he says, “You know the price of what you’re asking, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Valerian looks over to me, raw, unconditional love radiating from his eyes, and says, “My life in exchange for hers.”

A collective shock falls over the arena as the ramification of what he’s done slowly becomes clear.

Valerian once promised he would give up everything to protect me.

His title, his throne, his kingdom, his wealth, status, and power, his family and pride, his life—everything. He would give up everything.

Now he has.

49

I don’t cry when Hellebore tells me the date of our wedding in three months or when he marches me from the arena, hand on my arm as if I’m not irrevocably chained to him. I didn’t cry when the Winter King and his entire court turn their backs on my mate, the Unseelie calling him a coward and worse. I don’t cry as Hellebore chains Valerian with iron, twisting his hands