Read Online Summerkin by Sarah Prineas - Free Book Online Page A

Just as Aren had predicted. “You don’t like him?”
    He shook his shaggy head. “I don’t, no. He’s trouble, Fer.”
    She started walking. “You’re trouble too, Rook.”
    He fell into step beside her. “I don’t mean puck trouble.” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “Look, we like to stir things up, it’s true. But we’re not . . .” He shook his head. “Not like him. Pretty on the outside but something else on the inside.”
    â€œAt least he’s trying to be my friend,” she said.
    Rook stepped in front of her, his yellow eyes suddenly fierce. “You’re wrong, Lady Gwynnefar . That creature is not what you think he is.”
    Fer studied Rook. For a second she saw him through Aren’s eyes. Instead of a friend, she saw a surly, yellow-eyed puck, ragged and untrustworthy. Fray’s words came back to her:
    Pucks make trouble wherever they go.
    And Grand-Jane’s warning:
    He is a puck, and that means it is his nature to be false, a liar and a trickster.
    Fray and Grand-Jane—they were trying to protect her. And now Aren was too. Rook wasn’t a human boy. He followed different rules, puck rules that she didn’t understand. What if . . .
    What if everybody else was right about Rook and she was wrong?
    â€œOkay, Rook,” she said. “Since we’re talking about people who aren’t what they seem, did you come with me to the nathe because you’re my friend, or did you come here to cause trouble?” She put some of the Ladylike snap into her voice. “Tell me the truth!”
    He took a step back as if she’d slapped him, his eyes wide. Then he turned fierce again. “You know what I am, Fer,” he growled.
    â€œYes, I know what you are,” she said, and turned away. He was a puck.
    And maybe that was answer enough.

Nine

    In the very early morning, Fer went to be sure that Phouka and the rest of her bees were settled in the nathe’s stables. She’d left the other bee behind to keep an eye on Rook. He wouldn’t like that—he’d probably call it spying—but she’d taken responsibility for him, and she couldn’t let him mess this up for her.
    When she got back to her rooms, Rook had shifted into his dog shape and was crouched in a shadowed curve of the wall. As she came in the door, his fur bristled, and he growled.
    â€œ Grrr yourself, Rook,” she muttered. He thought he looked so fierce, but in his dog-shape he had one ear that stood up and one that flopped over, and it made him look sort of funny. She looked more closely and saw that her bee was perched on the sticking-up ear. Clearly he hadn’t noticed.
    Leaving him to his growliness, she went into her room to get ready for her first encounter with the High Ones. Today the competition would begin, and she would have to prove herself worthy—in their eyes—to become the true Lady of the Summerlands. Her stomach jumped with nervousness. What would the contest be like? What would she have to do to win?
    As soon as Twig had tied off the end of her braid, Fer examined herself in the room’s long mirror. She wore her usual clothes and patched jacket. She looked like her own true self, just what Arenthiel had advised.
    â€œYou’re ready,” she told her reflection. Taking a deep breath, she paced into the main room.
    Fray was ready too, burly and strong and dressed in wolf-guard gray. She stepped closer and bent to whisper into Fer’s ear. “What about that puck, Lady?”
    She eyed Rook. He was still a dog. Nice for him; it meant he couldn’t talk, so he wouldn’t have to answer any questions. “He’d better come with us,” she whispered back. “So we can keep an eye on him.”
    A knock, and the door opened. The nathe-warden strode in. She looked Fer up and down, and Fer was sure she saw something in those green