realization hits home, I feel my cheeks flare with heat.
He doesn’t want me here.
But it’s too late. Too late to run. Too late to hide. They’re all staring at me as I slide into the spot beside him.
The prince is on my right, the king on the other side. He hasn’t stopped staring at me. I don’t want to look, but with the way he’s watching me, it would be awkward not to. Gathering my strength, I drag my eyes to meet the Winter King.
A tiny puff of air escapes my lips. My reaction to his face uncontrollable. There’s something about him, a familiarity, that I can’t deny. And not in a good way.
I fight down a rush of nausea, my body instinctively recoiling from him. Pinching my fingers inside my inner thigh, I squeeze so hard my hand trembles.
Once I focus on the pain, my body forgets everything else, and I manage to wrangle my face into a smile.
The king doesn’t smile. He just stares at me with that terrifyingly unreadable expression until I’m forced to look away.
My focus flickers to Cronus as he walks to the center of the dais at the end of the chamber. He pinches a microphone between his fingers and leans into it. “Evermore, the most important ceremony of the year has arrived. The Three Seers have declared they have three bonded pairs of souls.”
I look around, trying to recall this ceremony from my studies. But I draw a blank.
Three hunched figures draped in black, frayed robes make their way slowly to Cronus. When they stop and face the crowd, a wave of applause crashes over the room. Deep cowls shroud their faces in shadow, but I have no doubt that’s for our sake.
The cacophony of cheers is so loud it almost feels like I’m drowning in the sound.
Together the crones lift their hands, twisted and gnarled with age, and hold up a swirling ball of fire. It’s so bright that I can’t look directly into it, like they’ve carved out a piece of the sun. “Three have the eternal fire found bonded together,” they chant. “Three has it claimed for its purposes.”
I feel someone grab my arm, the force of the act startling. The prince brushes his lips over my ear, his breath cool as he orders, “Leave. Right now, Summer.”
“What?” I say, twisting my arm away. Why would he want me to leave, unless . . .
Oh. Bonded souls. Like mates. I suddenly recall all those times Inara claimed he was her mate. That’s what this is. A mating ceremony. And he doesn’t want me to see him and Inara formally claimed.
A surge of anger ripples through me. Anger and shame. I’m angry because the thought of the prince and Inara being bonded for life makes me sick. And I’m ashamed because I shouldn’t care. If he truly is Inara’s mate, then I’m an idiot and a fool.
The crones chant something in Faerie-tongue. Then six creatures of light spring from the fire inside their wrinkled palms. Beautiful wings of shimmery iridescent mist open and close as the magical butterflies flutter toward the tables.
Two muted orange ones seemingly made from autumnal leaves break off in search of their choices. Two vibrant iris-purple butterflies swirl and dive.
But the last two . . . they’re completely different. One has wings of silver, like strings of ice weaved into a delicate tapestry, tiny snowflakes raining in its path. The other is a vibrant green, its gossamer wings longer and more graceful than all the others.
I have no idea what the colors mean—if anything at all. I’m pinned to the spot as I watch the sparkly creatures bob and dance over everyone’s heads. The first two matching pairs choose their students quickly.
No surprise, two Autumn Court mates are selected by the orange butterflies, and two Spring Court mates are picked by the purple ones.
So the colors do mean something.
A hand touches my shoulder. I look up to see Eclipsa frowning down at me. “Come with me,” she growls, ignoring the looks she gets from the crowd.
My chest clenches. I didn’t think Eclipsa would try to hide the truth from me too. I glance once more over at the prince, who won’t even look at me. His hands are splayed in front of him. I’ve never seen him so tense.
I slip from my seat, relieved that I don’t have to witness the act. This is a good thing, I tell myself as I follow after Eclipsa, rushing to