“I might have texted them about the Shadow Selection, and the bar incident with the Winter Prince.” She flashes an apologetic smile. “And possibly about winning the cup.”
“Honey,” Sebastian says, waggling his perfect eyebrows at me, “Evermore gossip spreads like wildfire. Just assume we know everything.”
My unease must show because Nick laughs. “Yes, I’ve heard the prince is quite enamored with you. Is he as delicious as they say?”
Sebastian tsks at Nick. “First, of course he is—he’s the Winter Prince. Second, give the girl some space. You’re smothering the poor dear.”
“Darling you know you love my smothering,” Nick amends, but he does, indeed, give me space.
I flash Sebastian a relieved smile. After they both shower Evelyn with hugs and questions about her family, we all trail inside as Nick and Sebastian take turns gabbing. Apparently I’m the talk of their tiny circle. Poor Tainted Zone girl gets into the academy and becomes shadow to the Winter Prince.
“It’s like a fairytale,” Nick proclaims.
“They’re talking about making one spot available each year for underprivileged students from the Tainted Zone,” Sebastian adds. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
I nod dully, praying my true feelings don’t show in my face.
High up in their fantasy world penthouse, with its flying buttresses and terracotta gargoyles, Mack’s dads have no idea what the borderlands are really like. Most kids in the Tainted Zone don’t want a scholarship to the Fae academy; they just want clean water and enough food to last the winter.
We all trickle into the kitchen. A stunning dining table set for twenty spreads across the room, but my eyes go to the people filling it.
“Mack,” I whisper-yell as I tug on the sleeve of her ivory leather jacket. “You didn’t say there’d be other people here.”
I glance over the gilded sideboard buffet to see Ruby taking bites out of blocks of undoubtedly expensive cheese. She loads her arms up with yellow sugared candies the size of her head, ignoring the shocked looks from the guests.
Shimmer help me.
“Oh,” Nick says, flicking his hand at the table. “That’s just one of Sebastian’s casual lunch parties.”
“Lunch?”
Mack twirls a strand of indigo hair around her finger. “They host them on Fae time.”
Right. Most Fae eat lunch around five o’clock, and dinner around eleven. But at the academy lunch is closer to three o’clock.
Evelyn’s eyes brighten. “I love Fae lunch, and I’m starving. Do we have time to join them?”
I almost hug Mack when she shakes her head. “Nope, we’re on a mission. Look hot as frack at the Winter Formal, remember?”
After a round of informal introductions, we grab some Fae delicacies—candied fig and a type of soft, tart cheese rolled in a layer of pastry so light it crumbles in your fingers—and catch a cab to the dress shop.
The store appears tiny from the outside. The brick studio has no signage and is tucked between a bakery and a tattoo shop. But inside is another story entirely. Rack upon rack of the most beautiful custom gowns I’ve ever seen grace the walls. Each piece exquisite.
A dress with a skirt made entirely of dandelions spelled not to blow away. A flowy ensemble that looks created from giant pink rose petals. A sleek black dress plated with metallic black scales.
Definitely not in Amarillo anymore, Summer.
As soon as we entered and the bell above the door tinkles, a pixie Fae comes out from the back room carrying an armful of buttery-gold silk. Glasses perch on his nose, his skin a light shade of moss.
He takes one look at our human features, frowns, and says, “Can I help you?”
Before I can utter a word, Ruby rises above us, arms crossed over her chest. “You are looking at the shadow of the Winter Prince. Show some respect, pix.”
The Pixie pushes up his glasses to study me. I lift my eyebrows. I’ll never get used to the shrewd way the Fae stare. Whatever he finds, it must be passable because he snaps his fingers and a swarm of sprites descend with measuring tape.
“I know the perfect color for you,” he says, leading us into a private room. A sprite with clear wings flies over and offers us the Fae version of champagne from a vineyard in the Winter Court territories.
Mack takes one of the bubbling flutes, and when Evelyn waves hers away, mumbling about suddenly not feeling well, Mack snatches Evelyn’s as well.
“Do you have any food here?” Evelyn asks. “I’m really hungry. I think that’s why I have such a headache.”