The last beast I met got the better of me, but I vow to the chaos that this one will not. I will do whatever is necessary to save my family.

Ever’s words from when we sat by that peaceful fire all those nights ago drift on a coppery breeze.

Keep your grip firm.

You can swipe across the throat.

Stab the eye and strike the brain.

Angle the blade upwards to avoid the ribcage and strike the heart.

The wolf is so focused on Nia that it doesn’t seem to notice me sprinting right for it. Not until it’s too late. The wolf’s head turns, but I’m already guiding my blade into its eye. The wolf snarls and whimpers, its hind legs knocking chairs aside as it stumbles back. An Unseelie fae leaps onto its back and drives his blade into the side of the wolf’s neck.

Maddox.

Blood sprays like rain, painting Nia and my aunt in gore.

My aunt collapses to the ground in a heap while Nia trembles, staring slack-jawed at the fallen beast, her face as white as her hair beneath the blood.

It’s too soon to celebrate victory. Not when we don’t know if more wolves stalk these streets. “Get under the dais. Hurry!”

Together, Nia and Maddox drag her mother’s limp body toward the wooden platform where my father, Theo, and Cora crouch. I motion for those closest to follow, keeping my grip firm on my dagger as I scan for more beasts.

Ever appears through the mayhem, blood splattered across his bare green chest and a smile on his face as he runs toward me. My dagger clatters to the cobbles, and I throw myself into his embrace.

With his strong arms banding around me, I let myself break. “I did it. I stabbed the wolf.” My blow might not have killed the beast, but it certainly slowed the monster down.

“My brave Seelie fae. I am so proud of you.” His sharp intake of breath hisses against my temple. When I draw away, I find him wincing. Before I can ask what’s wrong, I see the gash in his side.

One of the wolves must’ve gotten him.

“Water…” Ever needs water. Carefully, I lift his arm over my shoulder and help him shuffle toward the well, only to find Ronan and a handful of guards blocking the path.

This must be some sort of sick joke. “Get out of the way, Ronan.”

“It’s not Wednesday,” our new king snarls, dragging a hand beneath his red-rimmed eyes. “The treaty expressly forbids any Unseelie from accessing the well on any day but Wednesday.”

He cannot be serious. “They saved us.”

“They failed. The wolves killed my mother and countless others. They will never drink from the well again.”