Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,65

hedge the other side of the road. Each one has a line of patrons that wraps around the building.

I hug my gold satin Tom Ford clutch, a loaner from Mack, as a dark limo with tinted windows pulls to the curb.

Drinks await us inside. Ruby beelines for the champagne bottle on ice, but I’m too nervous to drink anything. The strips of clubs grow smaller as we head toward the skyscrapers in the distance. Mack finds a radio and turns up Brittney Spears until I’m worried my ears will bleed.

All too soon, the limo is slowing to a stop in front of the tallest building. We funnel out, and I busy myself making sure the girls are still tucked inside for the umpteenth time.

When I finally bother looking up, I realize there are people outside. People with cameras and signs. A white carpet cuts through the crowd into the building’s huge iron doors. The Winter Court sigil, an owl over two curved daggers, is carved into the twin doors.

Sometimes I forget that Inara is basically a celebrity in the Fae world.

A hulking bull shifter in a crisp black suit herds us past the screaming crowd, using his immense girth to block the few Fae back who duck under the red rope.

It’s only once we’re inside and the chaos is muted that I realize the building is made of ice, the walls completely translucent. Icy chandeliers hang from above, and snow flurries around us, so small they could be mistaken for dust.

The bull shifter guides us to an elevator made of—you guessed it—ice, and then we’re going up, up, up and my stomach is filling with butterflies.

A ding is followed by the doors slowly parting. On the other side waits my worst nightmare. A hundred of the most powerful and vicious Evermore in all of the Everwilde. They’re dressed outrageously in attire that could probably feed a small country for a year. A Winter Court Fae strolls by, her strapless gown made of real-life snow.

Mack’s hand is sweaty as she grips my fingers. “Holy poop balls, Dorothy, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Forcing myself to breathe through my panic, I concentrate on taking one step at a time. The foyer leads to an enormous ballroom decorated like a winter wonderland. It reminds me of the first year dance, only times a million. Wintry aspen trees sprout from the periwinkle and cream parquet floor, the magical orbs strung along the branches filling the cavernous space with ethereal light. Cloud-white elk wander the room, their enormous racks painted silver, and elaborate ice sculptures glow softly, lit somehow from within.

“Titania save us, I think that sculpture is moving,” Mack whisper-yells into my ear.

I follow her shocked gaze to a giant sculpture of one of the many Fae goddesses and discover it is indeed moving. Following people with her eyes. Sometimes tucking her hair over her pointed ear or adjusting her dress as if she’s real.

“Now that is creepy and so Inara,” Eclipsa mutters. “She’s not happy unless the room is overwhelmed with her wealth and power.”

It gets even weirder when we go for a drink and discover the bartenders are also animated sculptures.

Mack grabs us two aqua snowflake martinis topped with juniper sprigs while Eclipsa requests wintergreen and clove infused vodka neat. Ruby briefly escapes, but I’m ready, and I track her to a poor centaur sculpture.

“So,” she trills, batting her eyes from her perch on the centaur’s horn. “Is it true what they say about the size of your horn matching the size of—”

“Ruby!” I snatch the naughty sprite and toss her into my clutch. Normally I’d let her run wild, but I actually need her functioning for part of my plan. “What did I say about wandering off?”

“Not to follow strangers with candy into vans.”

“No! That’s—that’s in general, and I told you that months ago.” I shake my head and try to channel Aunt Vi. “Next time you’re getting a time-out.”

A beleaguered groan comes from my purse. “My life is over.”

Huffing, I grab a bowl of candied walnuts and chocolate covered berries and dump the entire thing into the purse.

That’ll keep her busy for a while.

So far, I don’t recognize the Evermore partiers, but most of the crowd mills beyond the dance. Tables made of ice scatter the room, each one packed with high-ranking Evermore from every court. My heart hammers in my chest as I discover the Spring Court Queen to my left. Her enormous ball gown shivers as if alive, and