Spring (Evermore Academy #2) - Audrey Grey Page 0,32

get by.

Which, unfortunately, means no more laundry service. Both of us spent a good hour washing our clothes in the bathroom sink.

Ruby cackles. “Who knew that bizarre mortal contraption you insist on wearing would come in handy?”

And . . . I was today years old when I discovered my sprite doesn’t wear underwear.

I follow behind Mack as she joins a group of students entering the courtyard. On instinct, I scour the yard, searching for huddled groups whispering in my direction.

Tonight, though, I’m not even a blip on people’s radar. The entire school thrums with excitement as they wait to see what the new Selection ceremony will be like.

Forcing my shoulders back, I push my paranoia aside. Maybe people have forgotten about me. Since the incident with the griffin, I’ve managed to remain low-key. I train with Eclipsa, go to class, and then return to our dorms to study.

Soft fluttering lights draw my attention to the courtyard. Butterflies swoop from the air, their wings glowing pale pink and yellow. Refreshments in crystal flutes are laid out on crisp linen tables. After the last incident, no one actually drinks the beverages, but still.

As much as I despise Hellebore, this year’s Selection ceremony is way better than last year’s. At least, so far.

No one’s forced us into a cage and then tried to drown us, so that’s something, right?

Mack chews her bottom lip as she spins around, the crisp white empire dress she wears nipping at her ankles. Her sprite weaved miniature pink and yellow roses in her french-braided hair. “Where are all the Evermore students?”

Ruby flits annoyingly around my face before settling on top of my head. We’re definitely having a chat about personal space later.

“Probably on the other side of that giant portal they’re herding you through,” Ruby says casually.

Portal? Not another one. Cool sweat streaks down my shoulder blades and plasters my dress to my back as I follow the others through the magical doorway. It’s only after I enter the other side that I recall the fences used to slowly force cattle into smaller and smaller chutes until they’re trapped.

A burst of colors, heady floral scents, and birdsong assault my senses. Dragging in a lungful of the sticky-sweet air, I turn in a slow circle as Mack whispers, “We’re in the Spring Court.”

I blink against this too-vibrant world. The clear blue sky, the same unnervingly turquoise shade as Hellebore’s eyes, crowns a verdant landscape of hills and lakes. Every inch of land bursts with greenery and flowers—a kaleidoscope of tulips, irises, and lilies.

Dusk is fast approaching, its pink and gold tendrils slithering over the land.

They march us down a worn path lined with hyacinth and cherry trees, their soft white petals swirling around us like snow. At the bottom of the sloping meadow rises a palace made from rose-quartz, the domed structure veined with every manner of flowering vine.

“The Spring Court Palace,” Ruby announces, as if we haven’t already figured that out. “I hear Prince Hellebore has a red room of pain deep inside the palace.”

“A what?” I mutter, following the shadows in front of me up the wide marble stairs to a courtyard with four huge ivory gazebos on opposite corners. Evermore mill about beneath the shaded structures.

“You know.” Ruby launches in front of my face, her eyebrows waggling suggestively as she rocks her hips in the air. “The place where he keeps his toys.”

I blink, swallow. Hoping toys doesn’t refer to mortals.

“Ask that Lunar assassin you train with, Kid,” Ruby adds. “She’ll explain.”

Oh, geez. How involved were Hellebore and Eclipsa?

Magus and the others begin separating us into three groups. The second year and beyond mortals who already have keepers are placed into Seelie or Unseelie sides. The first year shadows without keepers go in the middle. My heart tugs as I watch the first years nervously clump together, their huge eyes darting over the Evermore.

I throw Mack one last fleeting look before we part. She joins our friends on the Seelie side, while I’m forced to squeeze into the Unseelie crowd.

I make sure I’m on opposite sides of Reina and her crew before returning my focus to the gazebos. Clematis the size of my hands adorn the structures. The blooms are different colors for each quadrant: pink, ice-blue, an unusual green, and burnt orange.

“They’re grouped by seasonal courts,” I say aloud. Inside each gazebo, luxuriously dressed Evermore sit on . . . thrones.

“Oh, crap,” I hiss, halting so abruptly a boy runs into me from behind. “Is