Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,53

look unusually eager.

“No,” I lie, pretending to study something below. “Not yet. I wish it would.”

She nods, as if that’s expected, but she can’t quite hide the disappointment in her eyes. “I see you’re wearing my gift.”

My fingers automatically flutter to the bracelet adorning my wrist, and I twist it in nervous circles. “It feels too beautiful to wear sometimes.”

“You are a Summer Court princess. Nothing is too beautiful or too expensive for you.” Faint lines crackle around her eyes, reminding me of old porcelain. The lines soften, and she allows a rare, warm smile. “Once your magic returns, every single one of them will bow to you, do you understand?”

I don’t know who she means by them, and I’m confused by the way her smile makes my heart soar.

The part of me that’s always wanted my mother craves interaction with her, but whenever she’s around, I’m on edge. Torn between needing her approval and rejecting her attention.

“Oh,” I blurt, hopping from foot to foot. Eclipsa hates when I’m late and her moods are downright scary. “Any word on visiting passes for the clinics?”

“You know how rigid their visiting rules are, but to show you I care, I will continue trying.”

Ugh. Her cryptic answer makes me want to scream, but I manage a smile as I leave.

It’s only once I’m rushing across the sloping lawn that I realize how much easier I can breathe.

21

The poison gardens are on the far side of the lake, near the outdoor menagerie and whiffle courts, a type of magical sport played by third and fourth years. Pops of yellow, red, and blue dot the landscape. Each section of the garden is broken off into plant families, and a tall stone fence that looks one strong breeze away from falling over keeps the area hidden.

I curl my fingers into my palms to keep from running them over the delicate petals of a lily of the valley.

Every plant here is poisonous. Even the regular ones we have on the human side have been bred to be ten times as toxic.

Other than a few fourth years pruning a row of Daphne shrubs, the winding stone path is empty.

The greenhouse is small, its glass walls fogged over so the inside is barely visible. I find Eclipsa inside next to a petrified shadow I don’t recognize. The poor girl keeps shooting wide-eyed glances toward the door.

Eclipsa is bent over a yellow oleander, one of its bright flowers pinched between her gloved fingers. “You’re late.”

“I was with my mom.” I let my curious gaze roll over the scared shadow before settling it back on Eclipsa. “Why aren’t you watching the Selection?”

“Oh, you mean the boring race you concocted?” She straightens, pocketing the blossom and completely ignoring the sign on the glass that says, Don’t Touch. “The only reason anyone watches those things is to see who dies.”

“That’s morbid.”

“No, that’s life.”

The girl next to Eclipsa has been slowly inching away, but she freezes when Eclipsa looks her way—the way a mouse does when a cat spots it.

Eclipsa smiles. “Going somewhere?”

“N-no.” The girl shakes her head.

I brush away a persistent bee near my face. “Tell me again why you’re scaring this poor shadow?”

Eclipsa’s bottom lip pokes out in a pout. “I wanted to show you something.”

“What it looks like when someone pees their pants?”

Eclipsa turns to the girl, who looks seconds from actually doing just that, and says, “What was your name again?”

“Mir—iranda,” the girl stutters.

“Morgan is going to answer some questions,” Eclipsa explains. “Right, Morgan?”

“Do I have a choice?” Miranda sputters, looking from Eclipsa to me.

“Of course not.” Eclipsa draws closer to the girl, who shrinks from the assassin. “Tell my friend here, Mandy, what you told me.”

“Again?” the girl whispers. At this point I think she’d answer to any name just to get out of here.

“Miranda looks terrified,” I say. “Maybe we can—”

“Shh.” Eclipsa holds up a hand. “Mary, what was Hellebore’s shadow’s name at school?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda whispers, fear constricting her voice.

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“What was her name?”

“I don’t know.”

Eclipsa slides closer, and poor Miranda pastes her body against the wet glass, eyes as big as eggs. “Mindy,” Eclipsa purrs, tugging on the girl’s soft blonde curls. “What was her name? Give me that and I’ll leave you alone.”

“If he knew I was talking to you he would—”

“Hellebore is not here, but I am. If you don’t tell me his shadow’s name, I promise you, it won’t matter if he finds out or not because you’ll