way he’s dealing with you, but he has his reasons.” A silver eyebrow arches devilishly. “If it were me, I would have lopped off Rhaegar’s wolfie little head. Put him out of his misery.”
That gives me pause. It’s hard to get used to the cruel savagery of the Fae. Even harder to become accustomed to casually discussing decapitation with the one Fae I actually like.
I flash a dark grin between a series of jab crosses. “Eclipsa Skywell, your benevolence knows no bounds.”
She snorts. “I speak sarcasm, you know.” Her silver eyebrows crash together, and she flicks her tiny moon tongue piercing against her teeth. “I’m sure you think we’re ruthless, barbaric, even. But there is so much you don’t understand.”
Done taking out my rage on the bags, I grab my hydro-flask from my duffel. “You’re right. I don’t understand any of this. Maybe if someone, say, a Lunar Court Fae, helped me understand?”
“That’s not how our world works. Here in Everwilde, on the Island especially, secrets are weapons. I can’t just give you what could hurt me and my friends most.”
My eyebrows flick up in anger. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Who do you think I’d tell?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps a gorgeous Seelie in the Summer Court?” My expression must show my outrage because she adds, “Rhaegar is incredibly influential, when he wants to be. He may not have Inara’s gift with persuasion but he’s not beneath glamouring, despite the new rules.”
“How is persuasion different?” I ask, curiosity making me forget I’m angry. I assumed the day Inara tricked me that she’d used a glamour.
Eclipsa blows a few errant silver hairs from her face. “Besides being incredibly powerful? It’s different than glamouring in that she can control Fae too.”
“How does it work?” I ask.
“She can put things in your mind. Can make you think you want something, or see something. Her brother has a similar gift, but he’s honed his gift differently. His favorite ruse is changing his face so you see someone else when you look at him. Oberon knows how many Fae females he’s tricked into sleeping with him that way.”
Bane? I’d almost forgotten about her twin brother. Compared to Inara’s love of the spotlight, he seemed content creeping in the shadows. “That’s . . . that’s horrible.”
She shrugs, her expression darkening. “How do you think Inara’s been able to control the prince? Keep him coming back to her again and again?”
I swallow, the memory of that night I was inside his head floating to the surface. Then there was his tense struggle in the classroom that day when Inara tried to service him.
Ugh. If what Eclipsa says is true, that’s basically sexual harassment, if not rape.
His conflicting emotions toward her suddenly make a bit more sense.
“Look,” I say, holding out my red Everlast boxing gloves for her to unstrap. “I’m just tired of having no control over my life.”
She nods as she slips off my gloves. “I get it, I do. But control doesn’t always mean safety. I’m sure that poor shadow had no idea she’d wake up in a few hours to an escaped basilisk. Now”—she points to the adjacent black mat near a wall covered in mirrors—“Less talking, more stretching.”
I follow her lead to the smaller mat, contorting my body into the Lord of the Dance pose. The concentration needed to keep from falling on my face is almost enough to still my mind. Almost.
But the images of my next-door bedmate turned to stone, her mouth spasmed wide with fear, won’t leave. After a few more poses, I break the silence with a question. “What if her death wasn’t an accident?”
Eclipsa unfolds her graceful body, canting her head so that her silver braided ponytail falls over one dark eye. “What do you mean?”
I give a detailed account of my dream, how the basilisk seemed interested in me, at first. Plus I mention the selkie that wasn’t drugged at the Selection, in case they’re somehow related. “Both incidents led to someone around me dying,” I point out, half in realization. “And the orc.” I tuck an errant strand of sweat-damp hair behind my ear. “That can’t be a coincidence, right? What if, in both instances, I was meant to die, but something protected me?”
My fingers itch to stroke the pendant hidden between my breasts, but I busy my hands retying the silver band around my braid instead.
Eclipsa isn’t the only one who’s allowed secrets.
She doesn’t say much, but her demeanor changes after that. Her gaze