Briar blinks pleasantly, bobbing on her toes while she crouches, just like Isolde does when she’s excited. “You should have stayed in the Mortal Realm you seem to love so much, Gossamer. I told you, you’re coming with me to the Court. And then I’ll throw your little changeling’s mortal pet to the dogs.” In the trees, the eager pacing and snarling seems to get louder. “I’ll be well rewarded.”

Our canines dig into the soft, chapped skin of my lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. “And why would I do that?” Despite his defiance I feel his fear.

“For the same reason you’re not fighting against me now,” Briar says. “I could dispel my enchantment over the mortal’s mind like that, and then you’d be forced out again. Forced to manipulate and struggle to control your little changeling for even a chance at using your magic again.” She leans in close, pulling our hair again for emphasis as she whispers. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

Gossamer’s frustration snarls in our throat. The faerie is right. He won’t fight her. Not while he still has control over our body, over our magic.

But I can’t stay trapped in here until Gossamer is strong enough to lock me away forever. He mentioned going to the Unseelie Court to find a portal, but this can’t be what he had in mind. Maybe we were going to sneak in, or maybe he didn’t realize his own court had turned on him in the long centuries he was imprisoned. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I can’t let them hurt Raze. I have to get free, no matter what.

“That’s what I thought,” Briar says, patting our cheek triumphantly. Her face looks like Isolde’s every time she beat me at a game of cards, when she knocked over a bigger, stronger bully, when she showed me the newest shiny thing she’d collected.

I might never see that look on her face—her real face—again. I might never have the chance to tell her the truth about herself.

Our chest aches with hollow sorrow, followed by a flare of rage.

You promised not to let me die, I think, remembering his whisper underwater. They’ll kill us both. I’m used to faerie deceit, but I believed that. I always knew Gossamer would hurt me—but he said he wouldn’t let me die.

A flicker of remorse. My hand twitches—my hand.

She’ll kill you, I push. I can save you. I can make a deal with you. Let me save us.

Teeth snap and branches rustle. The monsters are growing impatient. It’s time.

The grip on my limbs loosens slightly, giving in. He can’t break a promise, and he knows, despite his pride, that I’m right. His hunger to bargain with me, to taste my magic again, gnaws at our heart.

Ignoring it, I reach for the knife tucked into my boot. Briar holds us crumpled to the ground, and my skirts hide the movement. I touch the iron blade first, feel pain crack through us at just the touch of the cold metal. But Gossamer doesn’t bite me back. Not yet.