I love her for it.
Being soul-bound to her, her brightness lifts me up. I’m the only dark Fae in existence that can say that. So aside from our bond setting the Faerie apocalypse in motion, it’s pretty damn amazing.
I’m already feeling better.
I kiss the top of her head. “All right, princess.”
We head to the band room.
Thanks to a few phone calls from Syl’s mom, I didn’t get kicked out of band. Instead, I get to leave summer school classes three times a week to jam with all the band kids.
Sometimes, Georgina can be really awesome.
Syl tucks close to me as we make our way through the crowd, turning the corner from Yellow Hall into Green Hall.
“Are you okay to go to Library Studies?” It’s Miss Jardin’s class, and she’s no ordinary librarian. I don’t trust that crafty pocket púca one bit. I loom over Syl, part mother hen, part gargoyle.
“Don’t worry.” Syl nudges my arm. “Miss Jardin’s out today.”
“That’s a relief.” I ease down from high alert. “We have no idea how many geis conditions she’s got left.” As payment for her help, we’ve released her from one already. Every time’s a gamble.
When the last one’s gone, Miss Jardin will be one free púca.
A shudder crawls across my shoulders. I pity the person who defeated her and locked her in that library under an enchantment to help Syl. “She’ll do anything to get you to free her.”
“Fat chance.” Syl’s laugh is so infectious, I can’t help but join her.
My mood lightens even more. Even though I’m the goth-rock celebrity, I’m the one who feels special on her arm. I bask in her light, loving it even as a small part of myself, my dark self, recoils.
We should be controlling her, Rouen. Then it’d be easy to kill her on Midsummer.
Shut up, you.
“Here we are.” Syl stops at the band room and turns to me.
The instant she moves into my arms, my aching body relaxes, and all my hurts fade away, replaced by an electric pleasure-tension that casts sparks between us.
She tugs me down to kiss me, a smile curving her soft lips against mine, then pulls away, her storm-grey eyes dreamy. “See you after class?”
I’m breathless, but I get out a “You bet.”
“See ya.”
I watch her go, loving that little spring in her step, the way her uniform skirt swishes against the backs of her legs. Suddenly, everything that is Winter and cold in me is hot, sweltering.
Images of our last makeout session flash in my mind. Speaking of hot…
Gah! So not helpful. Especially not when I’ll be spending the next hour in a roomful of band geeks who want to goob about music, Hamilton, and whatever Idina Menzel’s up to these days.
Tamping down on my raging dark Fae hormones, I slip into the band room.
Everyone’s early, except Miss Maria, our instructor. Chuck waves from his keytar. Marcus is cleaning out his tuba. Octavia’s doing rapid-fire paradiddles on the drum kit. A good-looking blond guy lurks in the corner, sheepishly plinking away on a guitar.
I recognize him as the youngest member of Triiiad. Syl’s already filled me in on his situation. If Pru vouches for him—and she did—he’s good in my book.
He sees me and heads on over.
Points for bravery.
I busy myself taking a leather string from around my wrist and wrapping it around the Adamant Queen so I can wear it around my neck.
Triiiad Dude’s footsteps stop in front of me. I look up.
“Sven.” He holds out his hand. “I’m going here this semester. Turns out there really are college-credit classes here. Umm…sorry about that stuff in December.”
“No worries.” I shake his hand, putting all that Battle of the Bands nonsense behind us. It’s not his fault Fiann tried to cheat. “Welcome to Richmond E.”
Note to self: tease Pru about this mercilessly.
Hey, I’ve gotta have some fun at this high school gig.
He grins. “Thanks, E.”
All the band kids call me either Euphoria or E. My stage name. It’s still part of my cover here in the mortal realm. It’s necessary. Mortals are still freaking out over sparkly vampires. They’re not ready to know that Fae exist.
I spot Nazira, the backbone member of our band, on the benches. She’s bent low over a Wonder Woman comic, dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration, her hijab bobbing as she nods at something on the page.
I chin-nod at the comic as I sit next to her. “Any good?”
“Yeah. How you been?” She eyes me from head to toe.
Right. It’s time for me to try out our “official” excuse.
I fake a cough or two. “Better. Mono is a real pain.” Okay, I don’t really know what mono is. Syl’s mom explained it like mono is the mortal version of Winter’s Sleep, only the mortals don’t stay perfectly preserved.
“Glad you’re better.” A quick flash of a smile, and Naz turns back to her comic.
That’s Naz for you. All business. I like it. Makes it easy to be around her.
I fish a bow and violin from the rack of school rentals, and warm up.
Chuck slings his keytar case down next to me. “Hey, Euphoria. Long time no see.”
“How’ve you been?” I shake his hand because Chuck is equal parts weird and utterly formal.
“Good. We missed you.”
“I had mono once. I was in bed for a month.” Octavia taps out three more paradiddles in the space of 1.5 seconds then smacks the snare in frustration. “You heard there’s not going to be any band event this year, right?”
“No.” I glance around, but all I get are bummed-out looks.
Naz folds up her comic and tucks it into her cello case. “Rumor is, Principal Fee blames us for Fiann’s accident.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Fiann’s so-called “accident” was this: she infected herself with ravenous Ouroboros circuits and took the fast train to Crazy Station trying to steal my crown and become the dark Fae queen. Syl tried to save her because that’s Syl, but Fiann was too far gone. It was a sucky ending, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take the blame.
I keep my voice neutral. “It wasn’t our fault.”
“Well…” Chuck joins Octavia’s beat on his keytar. “Fee believes it, so that means no band event this year.”
“Au contraire, band geeks.” Becca sweeps in with her posse. She’s got Fiann’s trick of showing up like a Buffy villain, at just the right moment.
Or the wrong moment, depending on how you look at it.
Syl’s warned me that she’s got “history” with Becca. Apparently, it’s bad history because Becca’s decided to come after me. As if band is the proper place for one of her stunts.
Hoo-boy, does she have another think coming.
“What do you want?” I level my dark Fae glare at her, but she’s not Wakeful, so she can’t see through a Glamoury. She doesn’t get the threat.
Lucky her.
“I’m talking about the schoolwide fundraiser.” She says it like we should all know what the hell she’s talking about, as she flips her wavy brown hair over her shoulder. “It’s the only way some of the afterschool programs are going to happen. Like intramural softball.”
Intramural what-a-what?
Her posse giggles, whispering behind their hands. This isn’t just about softball.
“Wait a sec.” Chuck frowns. “Isn’t that in addition to your regular softball season?”
“So?” Becca shrugs. “Intramurals are super important to keep us on our game. But only one thing can be funded, intramurals or your silly band thing, and it’s a contest.”
Ah, there it is—her little supervillain scheme to get to Syl through me. By messing with band.
Mistake.
I cross my arms over my chest and center myself in what Syl calls a “power stance,” then crack my neck from side to side. “Yeahhhhh...” I turn to Be
cca. “What are you on about now?”
“The fundraiser.” She doesn’t get as flustered as Fiann, so, points for that. “If you guys can’t raise more money than us, there won’t be a band event, and with no band event...” She looks at her manicure. “Well, who could blame Principal Fee if he just disbands band next year.”
She smiles in mock-sadness, really working that whole wide-eyed innocent act.
“Get ready to lose, losers.” Jazz puts in, good little minion that she is. Becca’s posse all giggle while Becca herself keeps that fake-sad look on like she’s so above the drama she’s so clearly creating.
She might be even worse than Fiann.
Meanwhile, the band kids are groaning and muttering. Octavia snaps her drumstick in half, and Marcus hides behind his tuba. Sven stands up like he wants to fight.
I feel you, Triiiad dude.
Naz just lifts her chin and fixes Becca with a glare. “We’ll beat you.”
Tell her, Naz.
“Oh really?” Becca asks sweetly. “And how will you do that?”
“We’ve got Euphoria.”
Or maybe don’t tell her. Because I’ve got a crazy father on the loose, a duel to win, two colliding Faerie realms to stop, and a girlfriend to not-kill.
Still, I can’t let my friends down.
I arch an eyebrow at Becca. “We’ve got a plan.” We sure don’t, but there’s no way I’m telling her that.
“I sincerely hope you do.” She fake-encourages us. “I guess we’ll see who wins and who”—she looks down her perfect nose at us—“loses.”
I don’t even flinch. “It’s on.”
“Bring it, nerds.” Dani shoots off her parting threat as Becca turns and flounces out with her posse in tow.
Once they’re gone, Naz turns to me. “We have a plan?”
“Not…yet.” Even so, that sparks a challenge in me. Dark Fae are all about conflict and conquest. Give me a challenge, and I’ll give you a victory. “But I’m working on it.”
“You could play the Nanci Raygun, and we could pass the hat,” Chuck suggests. It’s a sweet suggestion since Chuck, with his anxiety, could likely only take two seconds of being inside the busy nightclub, what with the crowds and flashing lights.
Sometimes, it’s enough to make me dizzy.
“We could do a Save the Band thing,” Sven puts in.
Those ideas get a few murmurs of approval before Octavia brings us back to Planet Earth. “Becca’s rich. Her family’s fortune would blow us out of the water, no contest.”
“We’ve always figured out a way,” I say, channeling some of Syl’s positivity. “I’m confident we’ll figure this out, too.”
“In the meantime”—Naz looks at me meaningfully—“we’ll see you at the Nanci.”
It wasn’t on my top priority list, but now it is. I won’t let the band kids down. They’re part of the family I chose, these kooky mortals.
Not to mention, there’s literally nothing I can do about any of my Fae predicaments right now.
At least this is a problem I can tackle.
“Right on,” I say, and we all bump fists.
I’m determined to save band, but right now, I just want some quiet time with Syl. I have to come clean with her, tell her everything.
It’s time to rework our Faerie plan.
“I can’t believe he kicked you out a window.” Syl shifts from her spot on the fire escape railing outside her window and reaches for another double-fried chicken wing.
I push the bag of Thai takeout in her direction. “Technically…” I stab a piece of kanom jeeb with my fork. “I smashed myself out the window with my fairy wind. But…” I take a bite of all that savory meat and spices. Okay, can I just say that Faerie food is great and all, but nothing compares to mortal takeout. “I didn’t have much choice.”
Syl stops mid-chew. “It’s true, isn’t it? Fair Faerie and Dark Faerie are on a collision course.” Her grey eyes are serious. “And it’s because of us?”
I nod, all that Thai deliciousness turning to glue in my mouth. I swallow it down, nearly choking. Our soul-bond is a dream come true for me.
But that dream’s about to become a nightmare for my people—mine and Syl’s.
I touch the Adamant Queen piece where it hangs heavy on its thong around my neck.
Syl’s gaze doesn’t waver. She takes the Aureate Queen out of her pocket, dances it on her knee. I feel her sadness down our bond. “My dad says I need to take my throne on Midsummer before you take yours.”
I nod. “That lines up with what I know, too.”
Two queens, dark and fair. By now, we both know that our fathers tried to get us to murder each other.
Let’s just say, there aren’t any daddy-daughter dances in our near future.
I let my hand drop.
“That gives us time.” Immediately, Syl’s spirits lift. Leave it to my smart sleeper-princess to see the bright side. Shoving the Aureate Queen back in her pocket, she stands. “We’ve got…” She does some quick math. “Fifty-one days, including today, to figure it out.”
I take a breath, about to temper her hope with a healthy dose of realism, but she slips off the railing and comes over to where I’m leaning against her open window. She presses her body against mine, and…
What were we talking about again?
Her soft lips meet mine. I drag her close, moaning into her mouth, and the next thing I know, we’re making out, hot and heavy, her hands in my hair, mine wandering up her sides, down her back…
Everything about her these days—her touch, her smile, her intoxicating vanilla and musk scent—it all drives me wild, rousing my dark self from the depths of my soul, urging me on.
Take her, possess her. The way a dark Fae princess should.
My arms tighten around Syl’s waist, and I drag her in. I nip her bottom lip, and when she gives a breathy little sigh, I move in to bite it for rea—
No! I yank away, putting some clear distance between me and my girl. I’m panting, sweaty, my dark self surging up, stronger than ever. Bite her. She wants you to.
“Roue?” Syl’s hand touches my lower back, and all my dark feelings surge up again.
Take her, possess her.
I pull away again. “I’m sorry, I—” Swallowing hard, I shove Dark-Rouen into a prison in my mind.
That’s my father’s way. Not mine.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I lean against the fire escape railing. My hands tremble and I clench the rail hard.
“It’s okay.” Syl smiles softly, taking my hand, and I feel her understanding down our bond. “This is new for me, too,” she whispers, grey eyes searching mine. “Let’s just take it slow?”
“Yes,” I rasp out, but inside me, my dark self surges up from her prison, wanting more, more, more. Mentally, I slam the portcullis down, barring her. I rule here. Not you.
But like everything else around me, my dark self and I are on a collision course.
And something tells me, only one of us will survive.
13
SYL
The dark Fae have many assassins
Among them
The baobhan sidhe, the redcaps,
And the most dangerous of all
The Xi
- Glamma’s Grimm
* * *
A few days pass, and things settle back to…well, whatever passes for normal for me and Roue. There’s not much we can do about Dark Faerie or Fair Faerie.
We try the Snickleways, but no such luck.
We’ve both been officially kicked out until Midsummer. Still, Roue’s warned me that her dad’s likely to cheat. Not that I need the warning.
I was the guy’s prisoner for nearly twenty-four hours.
I still have nightmares about being chained down on a glowing red altar, my blood sucked out by strange tubes and mechanical devices.
Needless to say, I’m bound and determined that, when the time comes, we’ll kick King Jerkface’s sorry patootie
. Our Faerie plan becomes: training, training, and more training. We’ve got a Battle of Wits and War to win, and that means no rest for Fae princesses. We’re up late every night, sparring across the rooftops of Richmond (RVA to us locals). As for wits, I’m teaching Roue the mortal version of chess.
I want to say she’s not terrible, but the truth is? She’s terrible.
Too impulsive, too rash. I beat her ten times out of ten. But my Roue’s no quitter. She just grits her fangs and dives back into the next game, taking my pointers in stride.
Forty-seven days left till Midsummer.
I hope it’s enough.
Meanwhile, summer school drags on in a blur. I’m grateful when it’s finally Friday because that means I can get out of class to take pics for the school paper.
Being the school photographer has its perks.
Besides, Advanced Calc is just a repeat of stuff I already know. Vector spaces, LaPlace transforms, complex variables? Kid’s stuff. Instead, I use my charm (and maybe a teeny harmless bit of Glamoury on Mr Westerlake), then grab my hall pass, my DSL camera, and head out to take some pics for the school paper.
Pru’s the editor-in-chief now. She’s frowning over a page layout when I come into the paper’s HQ. “Yo.” She chin-nods at the bin of assignments.
There’s only one left. I snag it and then groan. “Softball team action photos?”
“Principal’s orders.” Pru’s flat voice tells me she doesn’t like it, either.
I sigh. “Leave it to Becca to convince Principal Fee to extend softball season right into intramurals.”
There was a time I would’ve been psyched for softball season.
Not anymore.
It’s like part of my past is coming back to haunt me, and the main ghost? It’s Becca Buchanan.
Pru gives me a wry smile. “At least you get out of class.”
“This is true.” My good mood returns. Some fresh air, maybe I’ll even catch a glimpse of my beautiful Winter girl on my way to the softball field. “All right, I’m on it.”
“Knew you would be.” Pru waves and goes back to her layout.
Inimical Page 11
