Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,52
against him in bed and feel his chest move with mine. I want to make him laugh and watch as he lets himself become vulnerable, those cold armored eyes softening just for me.
I want that and so, so much more.
Is the bond making him miserable too? He hasn’t looked my way, not once . . . but I know he’s aware of my every move. Can feel the cool prickle of his attention despite the warm air.
The Winter King, on the other hand, has no problem meeting my stare. His blanched eyes look right through me. He’s reminding me I am nothing. Not worth a single emotion. I match his callous stare with a furious one of my own until he resumes watching the canoes on the water.
My mother laughs, the sound similar to wind chimes in a sluggish summer breeze—lazy and melodic. “No use provoking him yet.”
“Yet?”
Her smile stretches so wide I can count every perfect white tooth, and yet it fails to reach those verdant green eyes. “This is the Everwilde and you are the future Summer Court Queen. Provoking those in power comes with your throne. The question is not if but when.”
“And when his son takes the throne?” I probe.
My mother glances across the stadium to the Winter Court box, and something dark ripples beneath that composed mask she always wears. Eclipsa said my mother hates Valerian, that she blames him for my death.
I never truly believed that until right now.
Her nostrils flare, her lips curling in distaste as if she smells something rancid. “In our world, we never assume someone will ascend a throne until they actually do.”
A shiver of unease prickles my skin, burrowing deep. Most Fae play the game of courts, but I have the growing feeling that my mother’s skills have been honed to a killing edge.
Just as suspected, I’m the pawn she plans to use all the way to checkmate.
“So,” I say, silently cheering as I watch Mack and Asher’s canary yellow canoe hit the shore. “Has there been any winners announced for the fourth-year internship?”
Somehow I manage to keep the hope from my voice. Of course the law firm would never choose me, but a girl can—
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” My mother takes a small bite of a fig, dragging the answer out. “You were deemed the best choice.”
I clench my teeth to keep my mouth from flopping open like a fish.
“Surprised? You are my daughter, after all. The internship was always meant to go to you.”
Right. In the Everwilde, nepotism is expected, not frowned upon.
“That is,” she continues slowly, her bright red lips pressed together as she takes another careful bite and chews, “unless you are married next year. You see, we cannot make decisions without the consent of our husbands. Our minds are too frail to handle such things.”
The sarcasm lancing her words lifts the corners of my mouth. She might not possess much warmth, but she has acerbic wit in spades. “Yours doesn’t seem to have any control over you.”
I glance to the empty throne on her right where the Summer King would have sat, if he had chosen to attend.
The few times I’ve spoken about the Summer King, I’ve always referred to him as a stranger. Unlike my mother, who at least makes an effort to do motherly things—even if they drive me up the wall—the Summer King is completely absent in my life.
Something comes over her face. Not glee, exactly, something darker than that. “The thing about being underestimated for not having balls, Hyacinth, is that males never see the rope tightening around their own until it’s too late.”
Well that paints an unwelcome picture.
It also lifts my spirits. Maybe being underestimated by Hellebore will be enough to win the Nocturus. It doesn’t really feel like enough, but it’s all I have at the moment.
My phone buzzes on the table next to my untouched wine.
Meet me in five.
Where? I type back, eager for an excuse to get away from my mother.
Poison gardens. Greenhouse.
“I have to go,” I say, gathering my things. Ruby is curled in a sunbeam on the King’s empty throne, and I gently put her into the front pouch of my bag. Are sprites supposed to sleep this much?
“Hyacinth.”
My head turns before I can stop myself, even though that’s not my name. “Yeah?”
“Has your magic appeared yet?” Her eyes are placid, lips masterfully formed into that same measured smile as always, and yet, something in the way she leans forward slightly makes her