Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,50
“That was nothing. Wait until he starts bringing her gifts. Dragons are natural hoarders, but when they’re in rut, they are compelled to bring their desired mate shiny baubles.”
“That doesn’t sound that bad.”
“It is if that pairing is doomed.”
“Speaking of doomed pairings . . .” I examine my chewed nails. “How is he?”
Eclipsa gives me a you-really-want-to-do-this-now look before sighing. “Fabulous. He’s picking out his tux for your wedding to ass-face and counting down the days until he gets to watch his mate pledge herself to another male.”
Her words pierce me as real as any blade. Sometimes I think her tongue is the most effective weapon in her arsenal. “That was harsh.”
“No, that was reality.” She tosses two sparring gloves at my face.
“I couldn’t let Hellebore hurt him.” Frustration heats my skin as I slip on the gloves, flexing my fingers. “It was instinctive.”
Eclipsa pauses from taping her gloves, her dark eyes lifting to mine. “And that’s exactly why love makes you weak here. It’s a parasite, Summer, always taking but never giving. Love promises its host the world and then, after it takes and takes and takes, it disappears and you end up dry heaving in a ball on your bathroom floor, your soul shredded into ragged pieces.”
Wow. “Eclipsa, that’s—I don’t actually know how to respond to that, but what you had with Hellebore, that wasn’t love.”
“You’re such a fool.”
“Okay that’s probably true, but I had a plan when I bargained with Hellebore. An amazing plan.” Lord, I’m starting to sound ridiculous, but I’m committed now. “It was genius. Now I just have to remember it.”
She pats my head like I’m twelve. “Good luck with that.”
As Eclipsa circles me like a great white shark, a knot of dread tangles in my belly—and not just because her eyes look more menacing than usual.
What if she’s right and love is a sickness?
If that’s true then I’m beyond screwed. There is no medicine for what I feel for Valerian. Our love is terminal . . . and death is the only cure.
20
The sun warms my skin, thawing some of the cold from the events of last week. We’re spread out over the lawn overlooking the lake, watching the final leg of the Selection wrap up. For the first time in the last five days, I actually find myself able to relax and enjoy the summer weather and clear skies.
I haven’t talked to Valerian since he mentally spoke to me right before I kicked Rhaegar’s ass. I understand why. Both of us are trying to find a way to deal with this situation in our own way. I just didn’t expect his way to include cutting me completely from his life.
My classes after lunch aren’t going any better. Since Eclipsa has already chosen her specialty, she attends upper-level Soulmancy courses. As a dragon shifter, Asher takes specialized courses as well this year, meaning the only person in most of my Fae classes that doesn’t want to see me fail is Valerian.
And he’s staying as far away from me in class as possible.
To say my days after lunch are tense is an understatement, but it’s Friday, and Fridays are always supposed to be happy occasions.
Things will get better. They will.
Tomorrow I have my first magical training session with Eclipsa, and I’m already itching to start learning all the ways I can kick Hellebore’s ass.
Plus, I’m with my mother and she hasn’t said a word about me falling down the death-stairs and then challenging Hellebore to a Nocturus. Which is weird—she’s never been one to shy away from scolding me—but also a relief.
My attention drifts to the movement over the Lake of Sorrows. Brightly painted canoes slice across the greenish blue water. Each boat is filled with a shadow and their chosen keeper.
As head student, I did things a bit differently this year. Instead of shadow Guardians fighting for their lives and then being sold off like cattle, mortal students got to choose their top three desired Evermore keepers.
If one of those Evermore also chose them, they were paired together in a three part race.
The crowd on the lawn cheers as Reina and Inara emerge from their canoe and run toward the finish line. No doubt they cheated somehow, but at least Inara had to participate.
“I cannot imagine the Evermore students will love you for this,” my mother says, inspecting a pomegranate from the bronze bowl near her chair. “Nor the alumni who attend just for the bloodsport.”