“You need my magic,” I guess. “Because yours—”

“I couldn’t end this even if I wanted to,” Gossamer snaps. “Do you think I like being tied to a mortal body? You’re so fragile. You could just drop dead at any moment, and then where would I be?”

For once, the faerie reeks of earnestness. He’s trapped in this as much as I am, a tiger scratching at the cage of my mind. If he claws hard enough, he might just break it.

“I don’t know.”

He slumps, somewhere between lazy power and defeat. “I can’t even fully take control of you. I might as well be a common conjurer.”

Part of me screams to get as far away from the faerie as I can. His inability to possess me isn’t exactly a good reason to pity him. But my curiosity still gets the better of me.

“So the magic you said you couldn’t access before...?” I don’t know enough about this to even ask questions without sounding like a fool. “My magic?”

“Together, we can draw on my true power,” he says miserably. “Unfortunately, I can’t access it alone.”

“Pity,” I whisper sarcastically, even as a chill runs over my skin. But my mind is racing. We could draw on his true power. Together. If I use my magic now, how much will be mine, and how much his? If our magic gets tangled together, will I be able to pull myself free, or will I give a little bit more of myself over every time?

Another, quieter part asks: What might I be able to do with his power?

I ignore that. “So how long does this last?” I try not to sound frightened. If Gossamer was human, he probably would have noticed what a wretched job I do at that. I’m not human, and I still cringe.

His quartz eyes flash with irritation, and his lip curls to reveal those too-sharp canines. “What kind of question is that? As far as I know, this has never happened before. Our little situation is completely unique. As unique as you are, little changeling.”

“Don’t flatter me,” I snap quietly. I don’t mind being reminded of who I am. I accepted it long ago, and the word itself can’t hurt me anymore. Still, the word twists out of shape in Gossamer’s mouth, like there’s another secret meaning to it I don’t know.

Those pointed teeth gleam as Gossamer’s lips stretch into a grin. “Oh, but you like it. What a number these mortals have done on you, changeling. Don’t forget, I can feel what you feel. You hate me, sure—for now—but you still love my praise.” His chin tilts up, white eyebrows rising. “Very mortal of you. It’s almost cute.”

Do I really like Gossamer’s compliments? I don’t think I do, but he wouldn’t be able to say it if it wasn’t true. I stamp out the sparks of something warm in my chest, something that had been getting hotter by the second without my attention. “You’re right,” I seethe. “I do hate you.”