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“I’m a legacy.” Her face beams with pride. “My parents actually met here twenty years ago.”
My eyes widen. “And they . . . bargained your life for a wish?”
She shrugs. “They couldn't get pregnant, and their . . . circumstances made adopting nearly impossible, at least back then. So they summoned a Fae and, well, the rest is history.”
I don’t dare point out the irony of wishing for a baby only to bargain it away as a slave.
She must see the expression on my face because she adds, “It’s only for four years. Plus, they both survived so there’s no reason to think we won’t. And there are perks, if you can look past the Evermore’s superiority complex.”
“That’s a no from me,” I mutter. I’m one-hundred percent positive I will never be able to overlook the Evermore’s asshole tendencies.
“A few are okay . . .” she offers.
“Really? Which ones?”
She glances around. “I’ve heard those from the Summer Court are nice.”
I raise a dubious eyebrow. “Nice? Or just not serial killers? Because there’s a difference.”
She laughs. “You’re right, they all suck.” She juts out a slim hand. “My name’s Mackenzie Fairchild, by the way. Everyone calls me Mack.”
I do the same. “Summer Solstice.”
“Summer Solstice?” A grin shows off her perfectly straight white teeth. “Your parents really got creative, huh?”
“Yeah . . .” I look away.
The problem with having dead parents—aside from the obvious—is explaining that in conversation. Most people either get really quiet or really talkative, but it’s always awkward.
Time to change the subject. “So,” I say. “What are we doing inside the cage, other than being ogled like fresh meat?”
“That’s basically it.” She tucks a hot-pink strand behind her ear. “Although I prefer the word ‘appraised’ to ogled.”
Appraised?
As my gaze travels over the others, I discover they’re all dressed in luxurious cool-toned clothes similar to the Winter Court attire. Even Mack. She sports a gorgeous ensemble of silver pants and a low-cut ivory blouse, dark blue embroidery lining the hem of her bodice. A royal blue jacket of expensive velvet tapers to accentuate her slim waist and curvy hips, and knee-high white Jimmy Choo boots pull everything together.
I pluck subconsciously at my dirty sweatshirt. Guess I didn’t get the Fae-inspired wardrobe memo . . . thanks, Evermore dickwad. Not that I’d ever be able to match their style with my goodwill inspired closet, but he didn’t know that. She notices me looking and says, “I ordered my outfit from Barneys. Dressing like the Evermore is all the rage in Manhattan. We follow their seasons and everything, and winter fashion is my favorite.” I must be making a face because she adds, “I mean, it’s a bit overdone, in my opinion . . . but when in Everwilde . . .”
“Right.” I grin, her peppy mood contagious. “We don’t have a Barney’s in Amarillo.”
She laughs, a hearty sound that lifts my spirits. “You know, Dallas Cowboys, I think I’m going to like you. Depending on who chooses you at the Shadow Selection, maybe we can be bunk mates.”
“Shadow Selection?” Could there be a more ominous sounding name?
“Yeah,” Mack answers, sounding way less panicky than I feel. “The ceremony where basically our entire next four years are decided.” I must look confused because she adds, “Each Fae chooses a human shadow to train under them at school. I mean, we also fetch them things a lot and do trivial errands and stuff. Especially first year.”
Oh—that’s what the headmistress was talking about. The thought brings to mind cattle yards and auctioneers, but it also explains why the Evermore have drawn around our cage. They’re assessing us like bugs under a microscope. And most eyes seem to be on me.
Before I can question her further, the dais begins to move.
We’re sinking. Fast. Another round of panic lodges deep in my chest, and I clamp the iron bars of my cage, flexing my hands over the cool metal and spreading my legs for balance.
“Mack,” I call. “Which part of the ceremony is this?”
Her eyes go wide. “Did no one prepare you for this?” There’s incredulity in her voice, along with pity, an emotion I despise.
“I think you should just assume I know nothing.” The last few words come out two octaves higher as the floor lurches faster and faster into the ground. I barely have time to glimpse the Fae cheer, hooting and jeering, before the dais sinks into the earth.
