The statue’s long, sleek hair sweeps back from his face, and he stands relaxed, like he’s fallen asleep on his feet. I know that face, those pale, perfect features. I saw him weeks ago, in Wildline Manor. I’ve seen him, blurred by distance, almost every night since in my dreams.

Another step up.

A heavy iron chain wraps around him, from shoulder to foot, as if to emphasize You really shouldn’t mess with this statue.

He said he was imprisoned here. I didn’t think he meant that literally, that we would find him wrapped in iron.

That prickling feeling is there again, like drops of sweat on the back of my neck. Except I’m cold and getting colder by the second. The air buzzes around me, the whole world narrowing to just me and the statue.

You really, really shouldn’t mess with this statue.

My hand lifts. The needle points straight at the statue’s heart. My magic started bursting out of my control after I got the compass. And I feel certain—whatever is happening to me, this statue has the answers.

If only I could talk to him.

Just one touch.

I move slowly, feeling like I’m floating. Like someone moving underwater.

One.

I press my left hand to the statue’s cool cheek. It’s a strange gesture, but simple. No magic, no harm done.

Until the statue opens its eyes and smiles. “Seelie,” it says on a sigh, in a voice I recognize clearly. That voice has been with me for weeks now, quiet and cool in the back of my mind. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I pull my hand away like I’ve been burned, staring at the now-rippling design in absolute horror.

The statue’s smile grows a little troubled. “Are you okay?”

All I can get out is a strangled, high-pitched “You!” I can’t catch my breath. I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to inhale slowly. “How do you know my name?”

He looks a little hurt. “Oh, come on, we’ve been traveling together for weeks. You don’t recognize me?”

Of course I recognize him. When the compass’s physical form disappeared, I thought he was gone, too, just a dreamlike shadow of himself in the back of my mind. I never connected that presence with the way my magic raged within me, the feeling of it soaking into my bones from the design in my palm. I see lightning ripping through the sky, see a gust of blue flame and fear in Aris’s eyes, feel that deep fury, the urge to just give in to my power and let it destroy everything.

My heart squeezes tight, and so do my fists. “You’ve been messing with my magic!” I gasp, voice raw with anger. “The destruction—the scars—the rage—that was all you!”

The statue’s face is perfectly still, like he’s trying to understand. Then it slides into a smug, sideways smile. “No, Seelie,” he says, almost pityingly. “A tiny fraction of myself was in the compass—barely a ghost, watching and waiting. I couldn’t use your magic. I just helped prop open the door to it that you like to keep so tightly closed. All the rest—that was you.”