Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,67

eye-fucks you across the room will feel like a dagger slowly twisting into his gut.”

He’s trying to goad me into a reaction, the bastard. He goes for the door, but I wedge in front of it. “I realize I’m your pawn and that you don’t care about me even the tiniest bit, but stop taking your boredom out on me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Boredom?”

“Yes. I’m sorry that you hate your life and only feel something when others are hurting. In fact, you should probably see someone about that. But if you want me to go out there and play nice, stop being such a dick. I don’t deserve it.”

“No? What about falling in love with my enemy, breaking our engagement vow, and causing the death of my parents?”

“Look, ass clown. I don’t remember that period of my life, but I can guarantee we probably didn’t even like each other. I’m sorry that your parents died, truly, but don’t blame me for your court’s fucked up politics.”

I brace for an argument, a massive temper tantrum, something.

Instead, he just stares at me with those dead eyes. Then he shoulders open the door. Just as promised, there’s no Inara waiting, just a group of courtiers hanging around an outdoor bar. “You want me to be nice to you, even if it’s fake?”

“Has no one ever told you that you catch more flies with honey?”

He gives me a strange look, but he does end up holding the door open for me. Probably because there are photographers waiting to snap our picture, but I mark it down as progress anyway.

It’s the little victories that keep me going at this point.

The next thirty minutes are a whirlwind of pictures and conversations. Mostly me being stared at. Sometimes the looks are curious, the way you examine a ten-legged frog. Those I can handle. It’s the stares of unabashed disgust that get under my skin.

I’m still mortal, after all, and they despise me in their ranks. I smile, answer the few questions people ask me specifically—most are directed to Hellebore—and count down the seconds until I can break away.

There are seemingly hundreds of factions cordoned off by invisible barriers on the roof. Each faction is a subset of a different seasonal court. Hellebore might be a sociopath, but when he’s working the crowd for his aunt, he becomes the epitome of charm.

A lycan royal grumbles about not having enough territory during the full moon for mating, and Hellebore strikes a bargain with the lycan with the ease of a seasoned politician. The lycan is so desperate for the territory, and so enthralled by Hellebore’s magnetic pull, that he ends up making a deal that even I know is crappy.

The stares keep coming. Growing worse the higher up the court ranks we work.

As we walk from a group of bear shifters, I say, “Do I have a third eye on my forehead?”

Hellebore glances over at me, bemused. “A what?”

“I mean, the way everyone keeps staring, I just assumed it was either that or a horn.”

He actually laughs, which I take as a good thing. Bored Hellebore becomes the kid who rips the wings off of insects just to watch them squirm, and I’m the only insect currently around.

Finally, we enter the last group. The magic that makes my seven-inch heels comfortable can only do so much, and my feet are killing me.

I’m debating whether to slip off my shoes right here when the low tug in my abdomen yanks so hard that I give out a low yelp.

That’s when I realize which court this is. Abnormally cold. Everyone dressed in cool shades of white and blue. Pale skin, light blue eyes, and cold looks.

The Winter Court.

And judging by the way the bond has become a live wire of electricity, Valerian is here.

27

“Happy birthday, Princess,” Hellebore purrs, giving a mock bow. “You look as delectable as always.”

I follow the direction of his attention to Inara. Her dress might be the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. A deep metallic night blue, the satin melts to her modelesque body. Real icicles drip from the low-cut strapless V bodice, and real snowflakes flurry from the fabric, as if the dark blue is actually a portal to another world. The skirt is slitted, allowing one impossibly long leg to emerge around the sleek folds that flow around her diamond-studded ice pumps. A train pools behind her. The effect makes it look as if her dress is frozen at the top and melting at