Page 15 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
I write down my name over the writing slate in chalk and twist open the knob.
All the adrenaline leaves my body as I walk inside the bedroom. It’s five times as big as the one I shared with my cousins back home, and the beds could probably fit three people each. Two desks are set in opposite corners, furnished with a chair and built-in drawers. The frills of the textured pillows are maddeningly soft as I comb my fingers through them, the heavy sensation at the pit of my stomach giving a bit of a pulse.
I don’t belong here.
Uniforms are sprawled over the foot of the closest bed, the other one stripped to the mattress. One skirt is plain black, another white, and the plaid skirt is black and white with teal accents and little snowflakes in the corners of the pattern. The button-down blouses are made of a slick, airy silk that feels almost liquid in my grip.
Corset camisoles add a bit of frill and variety, likely meant for special occasions. There are also swimsuits, sports clothes, and an assortment of shoes—more new clothes than I’ve ever owned. My usual attire mostly consists of hand-me-downs from my aunt.
Any of these garments sold at the market would probably feed a family of six for a month. Wishing I could curl into a ball and sleep for days, I abandon the large, oversized bed in favor of the cushioned bench of the alcoved windowsill. I sit down and hug my knees, staring out at the gardens.
Our apartment is on the third floor, and tall rectangular windows stretch along the corner of the building. Beyond them, wild, overgrown but beautiful gardens block my view of the east wing. A forest of tall, leafy deciduous trees tower in the background to the north, and a creek snakes through the bushes and flower beds. Star-shaped flowers as big as my head sag from the branches of the vines creeping above the windows, and the expansive canopy of trees casts mysterious shadows along the walls. The thick vegetation in the Summerlands is eerie, to say the least.
A loud knock jolts me back to reality as Willow cracks open the door, all dressed up and ready to party. A long fishtail braid hangs over her shoulder, and a dress with sequin stripes that imitates the new mortal fashions finishes right above her knees. She arches a brow at my appearance. “The bathroom’s free now. Are you alright?”
“Yes. I just need a bit more time.”
The door opens all the way, Iris’s manicured nails propped against the wooden pane as she pushes in. “Then you can manage alone and join us when you’re done. I expect even moths know how to use a bath, yes?” She hooks her elbow around Willow’s and tugs her away.
Willow arches a brow. “Is that alright?”
“Go ahead. I’ll catch you later.”
As I watch the two women leave, I can’t help but wonder what it’s like for them. They were probably nervous, but the Royal Academy was their birthright. Willow must have visited this school many times, her parents being the official patrons. Same with Iris because of her father’s position. It’s a wonder they’d never met, actually.
I rummage through my tiny travel bag. I didn’t own any appropriate clothes for the hot weather, and I couldn’t afford anything fancy, but I did bring one classic black dress. I hadn’t realized that my onlygoodgarment would probably be considered a rag next to the artful and expensive fabrics sewn by the royal tailors. The Winter Court typically values sensibility over artifice, remaining quite sober in their fashions in comparison to their peers.
After a quick bath, I slip on the solid black academy skirt and forgo the long-sleeved blouse in favor of the corset camisole with ribboned straps. The boning hugs my body, the teal and gold patterns making the ensemble shine.
The bustier is a little risqué, but Summer Fae are used to showing skin. Here, I don’t have to act like a meek moth.
My mind drifts to the confident, glistening man I met in the labyrinth. When I first walked out of the maze, I felt a desperate, eerie, almost all-consuming need for him to be real, but now I’m not so sure. Guardians are either fourth years’ or graduate students, so I’m bound to meet him tonight if he wasn’t a fever dream after all. He said he’d see me soon, but what did that imply?
I shouldn’t get too comfortable in this gilded, humongous bedroom.
Wonder Boy didn’t look like a man who knew how to take no for an answer, brazen as he was to steal not one, but three kisses from me. What if he expects something else in return for helping me? What if he changes his mind and tells the judges what he’s done?
I will be expelled within the hour if anyone finds out.
Chapter 5
Sharp Edges
WONDER BOY
“Aidan. Damian. Come.” Evelyn braces her hands on her hips. “Congratulations. Per usual, you two have a knack for ties.”
I offer her a wry grin. If I hadn’t taken Beth through the labyrinth, I would have finally beaten Damian fair and square. While I’m sure it’ll be worth it, it still stings. I could take solace in the knowledge that I know I’ve won, but the whole point was to have everyone else know I’m the best, too.
Evelyn looks down at her ledger. “Only three initiates each, and zero casualties. Great job. It’s an art to incapacitate them without killing them.”
A dark gloom sticks to Damian’s brow. “It might be funny if it wasn’t so damn sad.”
I bite the insides of my cheeks, determined not to say anything that could give me away.
“Cheer up, Damian. You still won,” Evelyn teases.
“A tie is not a win.”
