Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,127
you touch him—”
“You’ll what?” Hellebore grins, the bastard.
I’m going to rip you to shreds.
Snarling, I slam an elbow into the guard to my right’s nose and twist from his grasp. The second guard reaches for me, but I spin, landing a sloppy donkey kick to his thigh. More soldiers converge before I can reach Hellebore.
A fist catches me in the stomach, and the air flees my lungs. I double over as another grabs my wrist and twists my arm behind my back, hard. The second arm follows.
“Careful,” Hellebore warns. “Don’t injure her face.”
Just for that, I slam my head into a guard’s nose. Warm blood sprays my cheeks and eyelids.
They’re about to shackle my arms when Hellebore holds up a finger. “Wait. Let her go.”
Just like that, they release me and step away.
I stumble from their grasp, refusing to wipe the blood from my face as I stare down my fiancé.
Hellebore looks me up and down. “Didn’t you once say something about flies and honey?”
He wants me to beg. Like hell. Like hell.
I lift my hands, my shoulders barking from being wrenched back, and give Helle-Douche two middle fingers.
“I guess the Winter Prince must not have been good in bed if you’re not even willing to plead for his life.”
My heart stutters into an erratic rhythm as I glare at him. There’s no way he’ll let Valerian go. This is a trick. A cruel, petty trick.
And yet . . . if there’s a chance I can keep Hellebore from hurting my mate—
Setting aside the last shred of pride I possess, I walk toward my fiancé, eyes begging him to listen to me. To feel something inside that black hole where his heart should be. “Please. Don’t hurt him.”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“Please.”
“Darken be damned, you really love him, don’t you? I thought it was just the bond that made you all hot and bothered for the prince, but you really love him.” He shakes his head, and when his eyes meet mine again, my stomach drops. “Did no one ever tell you love is the most dangerous poison of all?”
“Just let him go,” I whisper, hating how raw and out of control my voice sounds.
“I cannot believe I’m marrying such an idealist. Of course, I can’t let him go.”
“Then why make me beg?”
He flicks something off his lapel, looking bored. “Because you look so adorable when you do.”
Bored. He’s bored, while I’m begging for my mate’s life. Rage slams through me, and my hand snaps out. I meant to slap him, but my fingernails claw down his cheek, leaving four ragged marks that well with silver blood.
Not done, I grab his shirt collar. “She died. Did they tell you that? Your shadow died in some clinic, alone—”
“Enough!” he growls. That hard mask slips over his face. One by one, he peels my fingers away from his collar. “Go away.”
My desperation turns to pleading. “Let the Winter Prince go. I’ll willingly raise the Darken. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Why would I bargain with you when, in a few short hours, you will have to do what I want anyway?”
“You’re a bastard.” I spit in his face.
He stares at me for a long, breathless second. Then he says, his eyes cold and hard, “We were both insects to be pinned on someone else’s board from the moment we were born. You simply chose to be a butterfly, while I chose to be a scorpion.”
With that, he shoves me away and the Spring Court guards rush over. The cold bite of metal surrounds my wrists, and I’m led away.
53
The sun rises over the deep blue strip of ocean outside my tower window like the blade of a guillotine lifting above my head. I dutifully slip from bed as my mother’s servants begin the wedding preparations. Even though I bathed last night after the guards escorted me back to my room, I’m bathed again. Every surface of my body scrubbed and oiled. Once my hair is washed, dried, and pulled up in elaborate braids twined with daisies, the dressing begins.
There are corsets and bustles and ribbons, so many ribbons. Ancient Summer Court jewels are fastened to my hair, my ears. The daisy crown that exposed my secret to the world is next.
I watch everything as if it’s happening to someone else. No one mentions that my wrists are shackled, or that my eyes are bloodshot and swollen from staring at the ceiling all night, blinking back my tears.