The Shadow Prince

chapter twenty-five HADEN

“A party?” I ask Dax as he pulls a glossy pair of shoes from a box and sets them in front of me. “Are you sure this is the best next step?” It has been four days since I have seen Daphne. Four long, mind-numbing days in which I have been forced to stay inside Simon’s house while on suspension, and now Dax wants my second sanctioned excursion into the world to be at a party. “And while wearing this around my neck? I’ll look like a fool,” I say, tugging at the long, striped length of cloth that he has tied so tightly around my collar, it feels like a noose.

Dax swats my hand away and fixes the knot I’ve loosened. “Everyone will be wearing ties. This is the party of the year.”

Simon worked his magic, or pulled some strings, or whatever it is he does, and managed to procure me an invitation to the mayor’s party—along with a spot in Olympus Hills High’s coveted music program. But I don’t know which one makes me more anxious at the moment: the thought of pretending to belong in a music class or the idea of going to a human party. I have been trained in the art of combat, not in singing, dancing, and making small talk with teenage girls.

“Someone really needs to make a few adjustments to Master Crue’s lesson plans,” I say, slipping my feet into the stiff shoes. “I have no idea what I am doing.”

“Just play it cool,” Dax says.

He has forced me to don a pair of dark gray slacks and a white button-up shirt. Contrary to his protests, I have pushed the sleeves of the shirt up past my elbows, but I make sure the scars on my arm, which spell out Daphne’s name, are covered. I feel overly warm and suffocated in these clothes. “I don’t understand. You want me to pretend to be cold?” I fake a shiver. “Like this? What’s the point?”

Dax tries to stifle a laugh—not very well—and I realize I’ve been tripped up by another one of these “figures of speech” that I keep running into. I’m beginning to hate the English language.

“No, I mean, don’t go following Daphne around the party. Pretend you barely remember who she is.”

“I thought you told me not to be rude to her. Isn’t indifference the same?”

“No, what I’m saying is don’t act all stalkery. Let her come to you. Let her be the one to engage.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

Dax looks me over and adjusts my tie one last time. “Trust me. She will.”

“I don’t know about all this music business,” I say, stalling my departure for the party. “Perhaps joining the music department isn’t the right course. I should find a different way to get closer to her.”

“No,” Dax says. “I think the music angle is your best shot. I’ve been doing some research into it and found that there’s a whole neurochemistry to singing that we can use to our advantage.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“There’s scientific evidence that when people sing together their brains release oxytocin—that’s a neurotransmitter, a chemical, that’s associated with social bonding. It causes a sense of well-being and trust toward the person you’re singing with.”

I nod, liking the sound of that, even though I don’t know how to sing.

Another concern eats at me. “But it’s forbidden,” I say. “Music isn’t allowed in the Underrealm.”

“We’re not in the Underrealm anymore.”

“But still …” The idea of outright breaking one of the Court’s most steadfast rules makes me feel as though my nerves have been left exposed to the open air. “If my father finds out …”

“Simon signed off on this plan—granted, reluctantly—so he’s not going to tell on you. Not unless you do something impulsively stupid again.”

I shake my head, not wanting to rehash what I did in the grove once more.

Dax puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know it goes against everything you’ve been taught, but sometimes Champions have to make exceptions to the rules. Just be smart about which ones you choose to bend.” He slaps my shoulder. “Now, go knock ’em dead.”

I assume he means that I should make a good impression at the party, and not to follow the literal interpretation of that expression.