5. Teachers Pet

Chapter 5

Teacher's Pet

LORI

A t the break of dawn, Baka enters my room through the mirror. The sprite doesn't need a mask to travel through the sceawere, her bark-like skin and grainy wings rendering her impervious to the nightmares that roam the in-between. Her big ears move in time with the wings at her back, and her gaze darts to the sleeping prince. "I see ye've kept yer guest at arm's length."

Seth's light snores echo in the small room, his head buried in a pillow at the foot of the bed.

I sit up, my legs dangling off the edge of the mattress as I stretch. "What can I say? I wasn't in the mood for great sex."

Baka cracks a smile. She lands next to me, her weight barely making a dent in the duvet, and proceeds to hike up my shirt over my wound to check its current state.

Textured lids drape over her pink irises as she sighs, "It's not better."

"It's not worse."

The sprite covers the back of my hand with her wrinkled fingers, her skin soft to the touch despite its appearance. "Nell might not know what this means, but I do. If it ain't better by now, it's never going to be."

A soft tremble quakes my throat. "I was afraid of that."

Baka is kind, clever, and patient, but she says it straight like it is, and I can't bury my head in the medicinal roots anymore.

She grazes my chin with her bony claw. "Don't go chasin' ghosts and heartbreak. This poison is contained for now, but who knows what will happen if ye overexert yerself."

Her comment sparks an itch between my brows. "You think it might spread?"

She presses her lips together, and the worried curve of her mouth serves as an answer. My chest tightens, the ache in my ribs intensifying tenfold, but I jump to my feet and switch my hoodie for a long black t-shirt, the sports bra I'm wearing underneath perfectly modest.

I pat the fabric down over the scar, making sure it's covered. Out of sight, out of mind. "Don't tell Nell, please. I don't want her to worry about me any more than she already will."

Baka gives a small incline of the head, her bushy brows raised in understanding. "As ye wish. Be careful, my precious nightshade. And if ye find Morrigan, remember that revenge only hardens the heart."

I clasp her small hand in mine, grateful for her unwavering support. Baka is supposed to be our handmaid, but she's really the closest possible replacement to the mothers we've all lost. She takes care of us, and I'm going to miss her dearly.

"I'll come back in one piece, Tree Mama. I swear."

Her long black nail scratches my cheek as she cups it, her pink eyes wet with unshed tears. "There's always hope, even in the coldest of places. Remember that."

The sprite flies out of my room through the mirror, and I graze Seth's leg with the tip of my bare feet to shake him awake. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

He yawns and stretches gingerly, his shirt riding over his belly button. "Morning, friend ." The prince bounces to his feet with the verve of a toddler excited to play with his favorite toys, looking fresh as a morning glory. "Are you ready to go?"

I leave my father's hoodie on the bed, not willing to risk its safety by bringing it with me, but my fingers linger over the bull pattern for a moment. "As ready as I'll ever be," I mumble, moving away from the bed to lace up my boots.

Seth rolls up his left sleeve to access the runes tattooed on his arm and escorts me to the Winter Court through the mirror. Our short journey spits us out inside a modern bedroom with no windows.

An electric chandelier floods the space with warm light and casts inviting shadows upon the walls. The impressive piece is made of a series of gold and silver threads twisted together, reminiscent of the roots of a tree. The carpet, dressers, and king-sized bed are white as snow. Pink, lavender, and yellow pillows clutter the bed in an array of textures and sizes.

The first kingdoms' sense of style is closer to modern mortal trends, indeed.

Seth sighs in relief and removes his amethyst-crusted mask. "Welcome to the Spring quarters. We're not allowed to step foot outside these halls until the Yule pageant starts, and as long as we're here, we should be careful. The castle is crawling with courtiers in preparation for the wedding. Spying on the king should get easier on the road, when we tour the provinces." He holds out a hand. "Mask, please."

I peel it off and hide it behind my back. "I'd prefer to keep it close."

My mask is a part of who I am—a crystallized part of my soul. Without it, I can't travel through the sceawere. Without it, I can't escape.

Seth rubs the arch of his brow. "Spring seeds don't have masks, as you well know. Everyone has to believe I brought you here from the new world myself." He slips a small silver key from his jacket and twists open the lock to a small metal chest on top of his bedside table. "I'll take it with us on tour. And you don't have to worry about it being stolen, because the chest can't be moved by anyone but me."

I lay down the mask on the silk lining the bottom of the empty chest, and my fingers tingle from the loss.

"Here, you can keep the key." He tosses me the key, and I tuck it inside my bra. "The other girls are waiting in the dressing room at the end of the corridor. We have to make you presentable."

The large closet door slides open, full of pastel gowns, but a black tulle dress with embroidered flowers stands out among the colorful mass.

Seth holds a pink and orange number to my chest, but I wrench a different hanger from the pole. "This one."

"It's black."

"With flowers . Listen, if you expect me to seduce a Fae king, I have to feel confident." I slip inside the adjoining bathroom to change.

"We have fifteen minutes, tops," Seth announces from the other side of the door.

I strip from my uniform and boots and adjust the slim black straps over my shoulders. The sweetheart neckline dips between my breasts, and the skirt finishes at my mid-thigh. Not my style given that I'd never choose to wear a dress, but I look good.

Seth cracks open the door. "Can I?"

I give a sharp nod.

"Here. Let me." He reaches for the clip holding my hair.

"I didn't peg you for a hairdresser," I say.

Goosebumps raise along the back of my neck as he frees my long, dark mane and starts running his fingers through it. "Spring magic and all…"

"Right."

Under his influence, the knots and dry ends vanish, my hair perfectly straight and glossy in an instant. The result is twice as impressive as when Baka does my hair in the Shadow Court.

"Perfect." Seth meets my gaze in the bathroom mirror. "Now, look at me and close your eyes, partner."

I spin around and point my index finger at his face. "I warn you. No funny business."

He raises his hands in surrender. "I swear. Professional friends only." His fingers swipe across my closed lids, ghost along my cheeks, and trace my heart-shaped lips. "You know… Iris was considered to be the second most beautiful woman in Faerie."

The odd compliment sounds next to impossible, but I smile. "Only second, hey?"

This boy is mad… There's no way a woman who looks like me could be considered a standard of beauty. I check the result in the mirror and reel at his talent. The dark eye-shadow makes my clear gray eyes appear almost silver, and I've never looked so glamorous.

I smack my lips together a few times and blot the excess lipstick with a tissue, but to my surprise, the magic make-up doesn't smudge. Nice trick!

Feeling a little hot all of a sudden, I tuck my hair behind my ears. "Tell me about the Winter King."

"Elio's like all of his reapers. Cold. Unfeeling." Lips twisted in a grimace, Seth clears his throat and walks away. "Your voice is a problem. What about a high, friendly tone? Give it a try."

My voice? What the fuck. I roll my eyes. "Hi, I'm Lori Lovegood. I studied in the new world instead of Faerie because my mother was a bad-ass archer, and I'm so grateful to my prince, Seth Devine, for this opportunity."

The admiration sounds fake as hell, and Seth grunts. "You're not even trying. Most of the Spring seeds in the other room have been prepping for this their whole lives. They attended boarding school in Faerie to prepare for their future roles in my mother's court and fought for the chance to be here, so they know each other pretty well. They're going to scratch your eyes out if you're not careful."

"Why do they volunteer for this? Are they so broke that they'd prefer to be crowned queen and die rather than serve the Spring Court?" I ask.

Unlike Shadow seeds, Spring seeds come by the dozen, and not many of them wash out. My brother probably crossed paths with some of these girls during his studies. Like him, they're meant to become carvers, archers, or groomers after they graduate. All perfectly acceptable positions.

Seth averts his gaze. "I thought you knew—the top three women in the Yule pageant get a frost apple…and only one of them has to marry the king."

My breath catches in my throat. "Are you serious?"

"Considering Elio's reputation, they have to make it worthwhile for the brides to show up. Immortality is about the only thing mortals would willingly die for. Wouldn't you want it, given the chance?" He starts unbuttoning his shirt and returns to the bedroom. "I need to change, too."

Alone in the small, pristine bathroom, the nerves hit me all at once. A frost apple… I mean—I've been busting my ass to become the best Shadow huntress I can be, but I won't rise in the ranks quickly enough to claim immortality. There are four stages of training, and while the journey from seed to sprout took me ten months, twenty more years will most likely be needed for me to pass the next trials.

Becoming immortal would take a hundred more, and I haven't got that kind of time. The irony of being a magic-born mortal isn't lost on me. Endless possibilities, but time ticks by too quickly for us to reach our full potential. I touch the scar below the flimsy lace of my dress. With that suppurating venom, I've probably peaked as a rough-edged, half-competent huntress.

Before my confidence leaks out completely, I open the door and cover my eyes with my hand, rushing for the exit. "I'm ready to meet the girls."

"Wait!" Seth grips my elbow, and I catch a glimpse of his naked thigh. "I'll introduce you."

"Fuck, no! Don't single me out. It's only going to alienate me from them." Eyes still covered, I motion in the general direction of his crotch. "Get dressed, and be cool."

Without giving him another second to process, I escape to the hallway and slam the door behind me. Oof.

I force myself to slow down before opening the door leading to the women's dressing room. Twelve faces turn in my direction. A human bouquet of bombshells, with flawless make-up and colorful dresses that hug their beautiful bodies.

I force a smile on my face and inject a shitload of pep into my voice. "Hi, guys!" I give my fellow contestants a girly wave with both hands.

Major cringe!

A tall blonde wearing a long-sleeved dress made of colorful lace flowers sewn together pushes to her feet, her lips pursed in a pout. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lori." I plant my feet in the ground, and shadow magic tickles my palms.

Dude, you need to chill. They're Spring seeds, not nightmares. The worst thing that girl could do is scratch you with her fake nails.

Walking all the way into my bubble, the queen bee hones in on me like a shark and crosses her arms over her chest. "What's your story? Where did you go to school?"

"Chicago." Normally, I'd put the girl in her place. Scare her shitless. I know how to take care of bullies, but I'm not supposed to draw attention to myself. I've got a role to play, and Spring seeds usually don't threaten to maim the competition.

They scheme and stab you in the back instead.

"Someone dropped out at the last minute," I add with an affable smile. "They asked me to take her place."

The girl glares from her four-inch high heels, the shoes making her at least a foot taller than me. "Yes. She became mysteriously ill…so that you could replace her."

The others stare at us. Most of them look ready to reach for their popcorn, but none of them breathes a word.

A gorgeous brunette marches forward with her hands on her hips. The skirt of her red dress skims the ground behind her but finishes right below her knees in the front, the asymmetrical cut memorable and quirky. "Be nice, Daisy. It's not the girl's fault if your sister had a mental breakdown." She bee-lines for the floor-to-ceiling row of mirrors and powders up her nose with a flash of magic before meeting my gaze in the reflection. "Welcome, Lori. I love your earrings."

Another blonde wearing a pink dress joins Daisy's side. A golden pendant dangles in the valley between her breasts. "Always such a suck-up, Poppy."

"Bite me, Aster."

I switch my weight from one foot to the other. Twelve new faces… I'm going to need a pen and paper.

Seth enters the room with a pair of pumps hanging from his grip. "Um. Lori, you forgot your heels."

I glance down at my bare feet. Fuck!

Many of the women adjust their appearance at his arrival, straightening their bustiers or fluffing their hair.

The prince clears his throat and looks over his tributes. "We're all here and ready to go, wonderful! I expect you all"—he shoots Daisy a wink—"to make Lori feel welcome. Spring roses need to bunch together this year. There will be time to use your thorns later if you make it past the first few rounds."

"A teacher's pet, that's what you are," Daisy snickers under her breath. "You must be a reeeeal good friend of his."

I look her straight in the eyes. "I didn't sleep my way into this competition, Daisy. Did you?"

My confidence shakes her, and I slip into my heels with a smirk.

I spent two whole summers in a girls' camp, but that was with mortals. I had a big advantage there. The women here aren't sly, pimpled preteens. And they're magic. That multiplies the possibility for vicious pranks in an entirely new way.

The double doors in front of us open, and a winged Faeling—a human-shaped creature the size of Tinkerbell—hustles in. The navy tuxedo he's wearing must have been hard to tailor, given the size, and the round glasses resting on his nose are cute as hell. He holds a tiny clipboard close to his chest, his dark hair slicked back over his head. "Form a line, please."

"Hello, Byron," Seth says. "I missed you, too."

The little creature turns up his nose at the prince. "Hmpf."

The Faeling slaps a number over each of our chests in haste, not bothering to spare us a real glance. The numbers aren't one to twelve, as expected, but range in random leaps from one to fifty. A small 16 is now sewn into the front of my dress, and feels heavier than it should.

The night went by so fast—I almost forgot my hatred for this tradition . A beauty pageant where the winner has to marry a cruel king… It's barbaric. How can anyone watch this nonsense, knowing their new queen is bound to die?

"Spring brides. Follow me into your dormitory." Byron leads us to the adjoining room where the numbers we were just attributed are written across alcoved individual spaces.

Small cots radiate toward the center of the room, and long but narrow windows open to the gardens below, the dorms situated on the second floor of the castle's battlement.

"Please put on the provided accessories," Byron says flatly, not looking up from his clipboard.

My spine stiffens, and I force my jaw loose, slowly walking toward the number sixteen. A big hooded white and gray fur cloak is hanging by the head of the bed. All the other girls have an identical one in their alcoved lockers, with winter boots to match. I pick the heavy cloak off the hook and frown at the full-face mask hanging underneath.

The Spring brides exchange looks ranging from surprise to disgust, but we all put on the cloak, mask, and boots. I'm used to wearing a mask—just not one that could have been bought at the dollar store. The cheap plastic digs in the sensitive skin of my temples as I adjust the flimsy string at the back of my head to make the fit more comfortable.

My heart booms in my chest when a tall, slender Fae enters the room. The woman is pale as snow, her skin freckled with ice, and for a moment, I'm back in the Shadow Court's frozen gardens…watching death march in.

But the Fae's silver hair isn't buzzed on one side, and she's got no patterns carved in her skull. The bob haircut leaves her shoulders bare with the sides longer than the back. Her navy sequin pantsuit glitters under the electric lights.

Seth pecks her cheeks. "Sara, you're a vision, as always."

"And you my dear are still a shameless flirt." She embraces him with a smile and turns over to us. "Let me see your girls."

With the masks, the loose coats that conceal our silhouettes, and the big hoods over our hair, she's not going to see much.

"Spring seeds, hello. I'm Sarafina, the royal chief of staff. I'm responsible for the Yule pageant, so if everyone could form a line, we're about ready for the castle tour."

Daisy marches to the center with her hands braced on her hips. "Why do we have to wear masks?"

I bet she'd hoped to wow the king with her looks, poor thing.

Sarafina waves her concerns away. "The brides' reveal isn't until later, and we want to keep up the suspense. Now, follow me."

The Faeling lands on her shoulders and whispers something in her ear that makes her chuckle, and we all fall into step behind her.

"What a cute little fairy," Aster says. "I wonder where he comes from?"

"A Fae ling ," I correct her. "Faelings are born out of a royal Faen's first laugh, and bound to him or her forever. They're incredibly rare and powerful allies, and if Sarafina's got one, it means she's royalty."

"Or used to be. The Fae courts' political landscape shifts quickly," Poppy adds. She lowers her voice and huddles up next to me. "Poor Aster, she was the only magic-born child in her family, and she's not the brightest flower…" she trails off with a chuckle.

According to Seth, a small fraction of the Spring brides are random seeds of magic that appeared in otherwise non-magic families, but most of them inherited their powers from a diluted Fae bloodline, like me.

Poppy's eyes shimmer with unabashed curiosity as she licks her lips. "But I thought you came directly from the new world, Lori. Have you seen a Faeling before?"

My heart falls in my chest at my mistake. "No, but I've studied… My mother would blush if I ever made the mistake of calling anyone a fairy ."

During my short tenure as the Shadow Court librarian, I'd handled some of the rarest, most treasured volumes in the realm. But I was still only a sprout—a second-tier trainee. I wasn't allowed to read most of the precious collection, yet. Though, I did occasionally peek ata few of the books' secrets before sliding them back into the stacks.

Because of the restrictions placed on mortals and the rampant secrecy between courts, my general knowledge of Faerie is vast, but the specifics are still mysteries.

Poppy tucks her long brown braid inside the flap of her cloak and nods as though I'm making enough sense for her to pardon my cleverness. "Your mother was an archer, yes? That's why you went to school in the new world?"

"Absolutely," I lie. Gods… I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth. Good job, Lori. At this rate, you'll be found out in less than a day.