Read Online Summerkin by Sarah Prineas - Free Book Online

right now. “No,” she answered. “He’s my friend.” Then she went on quickly, “Will I see the High Ones tomorrow?”
    â€œYou will!” Aren said brightly. “So let me have a look at you,” he said, leaping from his pillow, coming around the table, and pulling Fer to her feet. “Hmmm,” he said, studying her.
    â€œWhat?” Fer asked, starting to feel nervous again. What did he see?
    â€œOh yes, very nice.” He circled, looking her up and down. “Yes,” he went on musingly. “The patched coat is simple, yet, somehow, perfect. You must wear it in the competition.” He came to stand in front of her. “Now, do you have a glamorie?”
    â€œYes,” she answered. “But I don’t like it.”
    â€œOh, that is well,” Aren said, smiling. He pulled her down onto a cushion, close beside him. “Trust me,” he whispered confidingly. “If you expect to win the competition to become the new Lady of the Summerlands, you must not wear the glamorie. The High Ones will think you are cheating if you do. You must appear as your true self. Come. Promise me you’ll not wear your glamorie. Will you promise me that?”
    That was an easy promise to make, and it sounded like good advice. “All right,” Fer said to her new friend. “I won’t wear the glamorie.”
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    Rook frowned. Over by the table, Fer and the golden boy sat with their heads together, whispering. The boy wasn’t wearing a glamorie, he could see that much with his keen puck vision. But there was something strange about him. Something not quite right.
    The boy put his arm around Fer’s shoulder and whispered something into her ear. Aren , she called him. As if they were friends.
    Rook narrowed his eyes, studying the golden boy. The sense of wrongness grew even stronger. Something about him made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He concentrated, and then he saw it.
    The boy looked like a boy, and he wanted Fer to think he was young like her—a friend. But Rook was a puck, and he knew another troublemaker when he saw one. The golden boy was not Fer’s friend, even though she wanted him to be.
    Time was strange in this place, and it hadn’t touched Arenthiel. Behind his beautiful face, something else was looking out of those golden eyes—something rotten and twisted with long, long plotting and waiting. Arenthiel wasn’t young. He was very, very old.
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    â€œWhat about the competition?” Fer asked Aren. She didn’t want to talk anymore with him about clothes or glamorie; she wanted to know what tomorrow would bring.
    Aren gave a graceful shrug. “All will be revealed, my dear Gwynnefar.” Then he dropped his voice, put his arm around her, and turned her away from the door, where Rook waited with Fray’s hand gripping his shoulder. “Now, I have to warn you. That puck will want to make trouble between us for no other reason but that a puck’s entire purpose in life is to make trouble.” The corners of Aren’s mouth drooped with mock-sadness. “If I can venture to guess, as soon as you step out of this room, young Robin will say something awful about me.”
    Knowing Rook, he probably would. But she kept quiet.
    â€œIf he does, will you just trust me that what he says is not true?” Aren asked.
    She really, really needed a friend that she could trust. But she still wasn’t sure about Aren. “I’ll try,” she said after a moment of hesitation.
    â€œGood girl,” Aren said, smiling his secretive smile. He pulled her to her feet and led her toward the door. “Now remember, do not wear the glamorie tomorrow.”
    Fer promised again that she wouldn’t, then found herself outside Aren’s door with Rook beside her and Fray looming behind them.
    â€œBe careful of that one,” Rook said in a low voice.
    She glanced aside at him.