And then Nicholas straightened, shaking ashes out of his hair.

“Damn,” Quinn said. “Nice shot.”

Lucy grinned at him, then at Nicholas, who kissed her passionately and with enough tongue to make us look away. Lucy’s blouse was ripped and dirt matted her hair, but she looked as smug as only a girl surrounded by appreciative Drake brothers could.

“The fact is,” she said, “you Drakes would be lost without me.”

Epilogue

Lucy

I’d barely made it through the front door of the dorm when my phone vibrated. Hunter and Chloe shuffled off to their room. The wounded hunter was at the hospital. Aidan and Saga had taken off somewhere. Christabel went back with the Drakes, and for the first time I didn’t envy her. Helena and Liam would be infuriated, even more than when Solange and I took off one night when we were twelve to explore the underground tunnels leading out of the farmhouse.

Speaking of Solange.

Oak tree. Now. Please.

I stared at the screen. I hurt all over. I was covered in ashes and dirt and I kind of smelled like old mushrooms. I just wanted a shower. And I was still mad at her.

But the oak tree call trumped all.

Muttering to myself, I turned around and stomped back outside. At this rate I was going to get kicked out of the academy before my very first class. Good thing Hunter had already shown me the best way to sneak off campus and where the contraband keys for the school van parked in the bushes were hidden.

I parked at the edge of the field so I wouldn’t get the van stuck in the mud. Solange was standing under the tree, pale as a winter cloud even through the branches. I hurried toward her.

“This better be good, Sol,” I muttered. “I need chocolate, soap, and sleep. In that order.”

She stepped out of the concealing leaves. Her eyes were haunted, wild.

And she was covered in blood.

“Oh God, Sol,” I said. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “It’s not my blood.”

“Okay, that’s good.”

She shook her head, sobbing.

“That’s not good?” I corrected. “Whose blood is it?”

Her mouth trembled, her voice as tiny as mouseprints in the snow.

“Kieran’s.”