Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,6
the answer to my prayers.
A frigid shadow drapes over me, despite the blistering hot summer air. I haven’t seen Prince Hellebore Narcissus since the day he ruined my life. It was easy after a while to forget how truly cruel he is. Now . . .
The envelope feels heavy in my fingers, cold even. The invitation itself could be made of slivers of ice with the chills it sends into my body.
I scan the letter twice before I calm down enough to make sense of the words.
Greetings, my beloved betrothed. I require your immediate presence at my upcoming soiree. Don’t disappoint me. We all know what happens when I don’t get my way.
P.S. Please dress accordingly, befitting my stature and rank.
Yours forever and ever,
Hellebore Narcissus, Spring Court Heir
“Pompous bastard.” I blow out a shaky breath just as Ruby rouses, rubbing her grape-sized head. A purplish knot sprouts from her forehead like a horn, a shade darker than her long magenta hair.
As soon as she spies the invitation in my hand, she darts for the poor, overly expensive cardstock and shreds it with surprising ferocity.
Ruby dusts off her small hands as she bobs and weaves in front of me, her iridescent wings fluttering so fast they’re a blur. “You never got the invitation. Problem solved.”
“I love where your heart is, but that psycho will just keep sending them. And when he tires of that, he’ll hurt someone I love.”
Eight public events a month. That’s what I owe him according to the contract my mother keeps locked in her home office. Inside an iron safe. Guarded by countless death spells that kill in less time than it takes to blink.
Apparently, contracts have been known to magically change if not protected.
If that doesn’t sum up my current situation, nothing does. My entire life—spread out on fifty-two slips of crisp white paper. One typo or magically manipulated word away from spending eternity in the sadistic Spring Court Heir’s red room of pain.
You want this.
I think that three times to little effect.
I don’t want this. I need this. As much as I loathe Hellebore, I have to actually be near him to uncover his secrets.
This is a good thing. Good, Summer.
“Let me kill him,” Ruby whispers. “I hear your mortal cries at night when you sleep. I can sense the pain from being separated from your mate. For that alone, the Spring Court Heir deserves to have his tiny balls rammed into his throat so he can choke on them.”
My heart clenches, even if I do agree Hellebore deserves that and more. Ruby would do it—if I asked her. Sometimes it feels as if Ruby, Eclipsa, and Mack are the only friends I have left. The others are prisoners of Hellebore’s whims, chained to his every twisted desire. Which includes preventing them from seeing me. Even Eclipsa is limited to visiting only a few times a week for training.
I haven’t seen Asher or Valerian since they were poisoned.
“Ruby,” I say in my most authoritative voice, “please don’t do that. He will kill you and then I’ll have to murder him and then we’ll all die, rather horribly I might add.”
I think I’ve made my point rather clear until she looks me straight in the face, claps her chest, and shouts, “It’s all for nothing if you don’t have freedom.”
Note to self: Don’t let Ruby watch Braveheart ever again.
A firm rap sounds from my bedroom door. My mother. Somehow I already know her knock, which should be a new form of familiarity that makes me happy, but—
“Hyacinth,” my mother says as she enters, using my old name. Her red Manolo Blahnik four-inch heels are as silent as the dragonfly wings as she strides into my bedroom, her wide-legged cream pants swishing softly. Her vibrant red hair is twisted into a sleek bun. The bright color matches her shoes and her Christian Louboutin matte rouge lipstick.
“I guess the brownies have already told you about the invitation?”
Her eyes narrow slightly at my tone. “Darling, I have already told you—nothing happens in this city that I don’t know about immediately. Why would that not extend to my home?”
“It feels invasive. And I told you I preferred the name Summer, not the other name.”
I can’t say my old name, and for some reason that makes me feel weak.
“Everything I do is for your safety. We’ve gone over this. You just aren’t used to being cared for properly by a real mother.”