“Clearly someone’s been stirring the pot,” I say low enough for only our group to hear. “Ember? Amethyst?”
“Has to be,” Khol mutters. “Too orchestrated.”
We push through the rest of the tour, deflecting barbs and jabs with the ease of those accustomed to court intrigue. But the questions sting—a reminder that among the polished marble and whispering silks of Golden Meadow, there are thorns aplenty.
When we finally escape the prying eyes and slip into the safety of our SUV, Fiadh lets out a breath she’s been holding.
“Thanks for not decking anyone,” I tell her, and she grins, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“It was a close call,” she says, but there’s a tiredness there that worries me. “That shit was so obviously planted that I can’t imagine anyone believing you won’t be able to track it down.”
“In the other courts,” I promise, squeezing her shoulder gently. “We’ll skip the viper’s nests and stick to the places that appreciate us.”
“Agreed,” she says, leaning back against the leather seat. “Let’s just get out of here.”
I nod, and as we drive away, I can feel the resolve hardening within me. We’ve seen the best and worst of these schools today, and it leaves us with plenty to ponder, plenty to change. But for now, we have one last stop before we can call it a day.
“Willowshade will be the best one,” I murmur, more to myself than anyoneelse. “I just know it.”
The gatesof Willowshade Academy creak open with a melancholic moan, and the sight beyond them pulls my heart into my throat. Crumbling brickwork, patched-up windows, and the somber faces of students who’ve had to grow up too quickly—it’s a world apart from the grandeur of Golden Meadow.
This is fucking bullshit. If we find this in Daybreak, I’m going to murder my father earlier than planned.
“Damn,” Khol mutters next to me, his bad boy facade momentarily slipping in the face of such raw need.
I stride forward, my purple hair catching the light of the waning sun, a stark contrast to the surrounding dullness. My fingers tighten around the neck of my guitar—today, it’s more than an instrument; it’s a lifeline I’m eager to share.
“Prince Revelin,” the headmistress greets, her voice weary but warm. “They’ve been looking forward to your visit.”
“Then I won’t disappoint them,” I say, the smile I offer her tinged with sadness and resolve.
As we tour the threadbare classrooms, I see sparks of brilliance in the students’ eyes. There’s rhythm in their steps, poetry on their lips, and despite everything, hope. It’s an uncommon beauty—one that doesn’t shimmer but endures.
It ignites something fierce within me.
“Music can be freedom,” I tell them, playing chords that resonate through the dilapidated halls, “a voice when you feel unheard.” Their attention is rapt, and for a moment, the decay around us fades away, replaced by the pure joy of music.
Afterward, when I speak to the headmistress again, the words come easy. “I want to help. Allow me to set up a grant for the students—a chance for the talented to soar.”
She clasps my hand, her gratitude a silent vow. “Thank you, Your Highness. This... this means everything.”
We exit the academy to the fading cheers of the students, their voices hauntingly beautiful. The group is quiet as we make our way back to the SUVs, each lost in thought. Fiadh’s jaw is set, Dezi’s brow furrowed, and Tiernan’s gaze lingers on the receding silhouette of the school.
“Did you see their faces?” Fiadh asks, her voice thick. “There’s no justice in this.”
“I’ll fight for them when I have the power, lass,” I assure her, sliding into the SUV, my exhaustion settling like a weight on my shoulders. “This isn’t just about Amber Hollow—it’s about every place like Willowshade. I simply have to build enough support to unseat the tyrant preventing me from taking over.”
“Agreed. If your goal once we solve our mystery is to gain control of your Court,” Dezi says, determination lining his elegant features. “You have our support.”
Just as Tiernan hits the switch to close the armored door, a familiar pop echoes in the confined space of the SUV, and Rowena materializes out of thin air, a sly grin on her lips.
“Hope I’m not interrupting. You called me to appear. I’ve got news for your sad faces, to bring you some cheer!” she chirps, landing on the Prince’s hand with a jaunty wink.
“Rowena!” our mate exclaims, her face lighting up despite the fatigue clouding her amber eyes. “What’s the news from my sister and her grumpy assed men?”
The mischief in my pixie’s eyes fades as we recount the day’s events, her expression turning serious. She listens intently as we speak of the recent attacks, Amethyst’s questionable behavior, and the whispersof discord among the councils. Even the lighter moments of our spa day and dinner at Goldgarde are laid bare before her, like pieces of a puzzle we hope she can help solve.
“I’ve taken all the notes, got the pictures, too. I’ll tell the fluffy butt about the witch in fancy dress and the snake in the spa. It’s true.” Rowena nods, scribbling notes in the air with her finger, which shimmer and vanish. “Now, for what I’ve brought you.”
