Page 29 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Get real, moth. Aidan can’t happen. Not ever. Especially now that you have a fake virginity to protect.
Chapter 10
Finders Keepers
SONGBIRD
The next morning, I tiptoe into the common area, my eyes sticky with sleep.
“Hungover, moth?” The most striking woman I’ve ever seen greets me from the kitchenette. She whistles a soft tune as she fills a boiler. “I thought commoners from Tundra knew how to handle their cider.”
“N-No. I just had trouble sleeping.” I gawk at the beautiful stranger.
The locs of her sculpted side ponytail are twisted and wrapped around themselves, and their incandescent glow is richer than the blood running through my veins and deeper than flames.
Dark freckles soften her otherwise angular features, with two golden hoops hanging from her delicate ears. Her otherworldly gaze meets mine, and the silver flecks in her irises shimmer with hues of midnight amethysts and polished moonstones.
The golden hilt of a small dirk is hoisted in the dip of her matching bralette, the tip of the blade pointing at her bare navel. Daggers are strapped over her tight black leather pants, and her elegant hands and bare feet show off a regal shade of gold nail polish.
The sum of it all gives her a god-like quality, and my spine straightens, the urge to blurt out effusive compliments almost too strong to suppress. I catch myself wondering what her dark skin would feel like, and a strange lull settles in my belly.
“I’m Elizabeth Snow.”
Her brows raise. “I know.”
I’m not usually attracted to women, so I suspect this one is the most powerful Spring Fae I’ve ever encountered. Her bite of power makes me feel all queasy inside, and I smile dreamily at her with my lips parted.
Iris joins us in the common area, breaking the strange vibe.
“Morning, Little Flower,” the woman greets her.
“Devi!”
Violet “Devi” Eros. Granddaughter of Oberon Eros himself. Oberon has been ruling over the Secret Springs for over a thousand years. Even the old Winter King isonlyseven hundred years old, and soon to crumble to ashes if my father is right.
Given his age, Freya Heart is actually his third wife—and not Devi’s grandmother. With Freya being Iris’s aunt and married to Devi's grandfather, Devi and Iris must know each other pretty well.
The two women embrace each other warmly, and Devi presses a quick kiss to Iris’s lips. “Congrats on making it in.”
Willow inches into the room, her hands flying to her hair as she pats it down in a self-conscious manner. “Blessed Flame. You’re Devi Eros.”
“And you’re Willow Summers, the boss’ precious daughter.”
Devi breaks the tie between Iris and Willow with that one sentence, reminding us in no uncertain terms who owns this school.
The boiler whistles, and she takes it off the cooktop to fill the teapot. “I’m your Keeper. From now on, I want you to think of yourselves as my sweet baby ducklings, and me as your demented prison mama.”
Iris snickers at that, but Devi shakes her head. “I’m not kidding. It’s my last year here, and I will not have a trio of horny, impressionable teenagers derail it. Your parents didn’t send you here to get pregnant, so drink your contraceptive tea every morning.” She dumps a spoonful of tea leaves from a bright orange box into an infuser. “Even the virgin,” Devi adds with a pointed look.
By Thanatos. It’s only been hours, and Zeke already blabbed? I’ll kill him.
Blush sears my cheeks as Devi retrieves four cups from the cupboard.
“You’re still underage, so it’s my responsibility to keep you honest. No, you can’t sneak in a few sips of Nether cider, and yes, you’re actually meant to study. Leave the mindless partying to the third years. Those bastards have earned it.”
Fae drink wine and beer from infancy—alcohol isn’t meant to affect our bodies to the same extent as the mortals—but Nether cider and other stronger elixirs are prohibited until we turn eighteen, the age of majority in Faerie.
“But you’re infamous for breaking the rules,” Iris argues.
