The Unseelie leader shouts, and the Unseelie fae shove past the guards, creating a perimeter around their Seelie neighbors.

Ever flips his dagger and extends the hilt toward me.

“Don’t go,” I beg, clinging to his arm.

Ever presses his dagger into my hand, forcing me to take it. “You remember how to use this, yes?”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. “Y-yes. But⁠—”

“Listen to me, Kerris.” He cups my face with steady hands. “I once said that you were soft, but I was wrong. You have the fiercest heart that I have ever known.”

He’s wrong. I’m not fierce. I’m terrified.

Nia’s scream cuts through me like a scythe. She and her mother huddle under chairs as the wolves stalk around the crowd, selecting their next victims.

The dagger’s hilt bites into my palm as my fingers tighten.

You have the fiercest heart that I have ever known.

Ever wouldn’t lie to me. Not about something like this.

I might be afraid, but that doesn’t mean I cannot be fierce as well.

Today, I looked death in the eye and emerged the victor. I did not survive execution to lose those I love to some bloody wolves.

Ever’s hands fall away. “Keep your grip tight and always go for the kill.”

The kill.

The kill.

The kill.

He presses a kiss to my forehead with a whispered, “I love you.”

Before I have a chance to return the sentiment, he’s slipping away, running toward where Maddox and Gryffin wait with steady swords and matching grins. Gryffin tosses Ever one of the two blades he carries.

Ever shouts and his friends launch forward, swords raised and a battle cry tearing from their throats. The wolves attack with ferocity, snapping out with teeth and claws, but they’re no match for the Unseelie. The warriors move in tandem, almost graceful, like they’re in a complicated dance. They slice with precision, cutting down the first wolf before attacking the next.

The second beast falls to the sounds of cheering fae.

The Seelie guards recover, surrounding the third wolf while Ever starts for the final beast still circling the crowd.

Crimson paints the cobbles, running in rivulets between the stones.

A woman’s screams tear through the square as the queen is ripped from between two fallen guards. She goes down in a flurry of satin and blood while Ronan clutches his bejeweled dagger beneath the throne where he hides.

The queen’s cries fall silent, followed by the sickening crunch of bones and the spray of scarlet across the wood and stones. Seelie guards try to save her, but they’re no match for this wolf.

Then its head swings toward where Nia clings to her mother.

Go for the kill.

Stumbling to my feet, I race toward the wolf.