at the thought. I hate walls of any kind; they bring to mind being trapped.
“All the way around the Island.”
“Island?” I sweep my gaze over the land, searching for any hint of water.
“Yeah. Of course. The academy sits on the Island of Evernell, the most protected place in Everwilde.”
I wrap my arms around my chest as he trots through the snowy valley toward the cliffs. “Any chance this is like, a fluke weather event, and it’s really spring here?”
“This is actually warm for winter in Everwilde,” he mutters.
“Winter? For how long?” My voice comes out a tad strangled.
“Forever.”
“Forever?” I repeat, praying I misheard him.
He throws me an annoyed glance. “Kidding. Only a year. Winter started a week ago, along with the first day of the academy.”
Only a year? Three hundred and fifty nine more days of this? A sinking feeling comes over me. “Are there any other mortal students showing up today, or . . . am I the only one?”
Please don’t let me be the only—
“Only you.”
“Wonderful,” I murmur. Showing up a week late is sure to draw unwanted attention, and that’s the last thing I need right now.
“Which is rare,” he adds conversationally, “considering most of the mortal first years were chosen years in advance from the pool of mortals who owe us service. There’s an entire process to ensure only the best, most beautiful mortals serve here. And you’re . . . well . . .”
Apparently, unable to think of a word to describe me, his words trail away. Am I really that different than the other students?
Shoving my mittens in my jeans pocket, I brush my fingers over my hair, wishing I’d thought to comb it.
Alarm pulses through me. Somewhere between this morning and now my hair has knotted itself into a matted, unmanageable mess.
Why didn’t I think to take a shower? Or for that matter, brush my teeth? I run my tongue over my teeth, wincing at the fuzzy texture. Who knows when I’ll get another chance.
“Just curious,” I say. “Half-starved mortals who look like they’re homeless aren’t the fashion in Everwilde, are they?”
“No.” His gaze flicks from me to the procession of humans happily marching behind us. The meaning in his glance is clear—that’s where I belong. With them. The poor, glamoured recruits who smile dazedly in my direction.
Do they know they’re going off to fight monsters who used to be human?
It makes me sick thinking that soon, these poor, happy fools will be fighting the darklings. From what I’ve seen of the darklings, these people don’t stand a chance.
“How do you keep the darklings out of academy grounds?” I ask. “Other than the giant wall over there.”
“Wards, mainly . . .” Again his gaze shifts to the poor, happy humans bumbling behind us. Pity flashes in his eyes, and he looks away.
Before I can ask more questions, voices trickle across the crisp air. I sink low on his back as we pass Fae students milling around the grounds. They throw strange glances our way. I’m guessing most students don’t arrive on a centaur shepherding human prisoners-soldiers to the scourge lands.
I don’t bother to hide my own curiosity as I stare back. The watery darkness is broken by golden orbs that float above the students. The magical light isn’t enough to reveal their features, only that they are all different sizes. Some larger than mortals, some smaller.
We pass close to a group near the base of the mountain, and the heat from their orbs chases away the chill, if only briefly.
“Any chance the sun might come up, say, in the next century?” I call out to the centaur.
He cranes his neck to glance at the starry sky. Longing flickers in his mossy eyes. “That all depends on the Winter Prince’s mood. If he’s happy we might get a nice bright day, but experience tells me we’re in for weeks of this.”
That does not sound promising.
“Just curious. How many mortal students come from the Tainted Zone?”
“None.” He shakes his head for emphasis, his ears twitching back and forth.
Although his answer isn’t surprising—anyone with power and influence bribed themselves across the borders right after the magical apocalypse happened—I still wish I’d known all this beforehand.
“Stupid luck,” I mutter. “Stealing from the Winter Prince.”
He stops so suddenly I nearly fall off his back. “What did you say?”
“I stole some neverapples and . . .” The intensity in his voice makes me nervous, and I brush back a knotted rope of hair before continuing. “Apparently they belonged to