“Who put you here?” My voice is getting shakier, desperate for answers. “Why me?”

“You,” the statue replies coolly. “Seelie. Any changeling would have done the trick, but it was Fated to be you. I wish I could have revealed myself to you sooner. I’ve never seen a mortal wield magic like you do.”

I’ve never spoken to a faerie for this long before, but no faerie I’ve ever spoken to has been so earnest, so willing to show vulnerability and weakness. To admit to needing anyone else.

“Get out of my head!” My hands are leaping and twisting in the air with all the anger I can’t hold in. “I don’t care about any of this. I just want you gone. From my mind—from my magic. Now.”

“Then, it seems you and I are after the same goal.” He studies my face steadily with those flat stone eyes. “All you have to do is free me from my imprisonment, and the compass’s enchantment will dissolve as well.”

He makes it sound so easy. Too easy. I know I’m being reckless, but I don’t really care. I need him gone, and it’s hard to think about anything else with the unbearable itch of that thought at the front of my mind. “And...and you won’t hurt me or anyone else? You’ll just go on your way?”

“I will return to my own devices the instant that I’m able to.” He speaks in a rush, careful control bubbling into heady excitement.

I sigh, letting the fire out. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. “What do I do?”

His face softens with relief, and a grin that looks way too much like a human boy’s tugs at his mouth, revealing incisors just a little too sharp. “It has to be a bargain. Just tell me, by name, that you release me, and make your request.”

I pause, watching my hand hover over the iron chains where the faerie’s heart would be. My throat feels dry. A faerie bargain. When I heard stories of those cursed by dealing with faeries, I shook my head, thinking they were just fools thinking death would be easier. Now I’m in a corner with no other choice, and suddenly I understand. “What is your name?”

“Gossamer.”

I place my hand against the chain, just for a second. Not long enough to burn. “Gossamer,” I repeat hoarsely, “I release you. In return, I ask only for the name you’ve already told me.” A shock of cold runs up my arm, freezing me head to toe, blinding me. I hear a click.

Then it’s over, so quickly I must have imagined it.

The chains fall off, pouring onto the floor in an echoing waterfall of clanging. The statue’s face transforms quickly to confusion, then surprise—and then it stops moving completely, the spark of life gone.

When I pull my palm away, it’s blank: nothing but smooth, pink skin. Not a trace of the ink I’ve gotten used to. It feels like losing a tooth when I was a kid, feeling the space in my mouth where there should be something but there isn’t anymore.