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His eyes seem to dance. “Perhaps it is time for you to learn more about me, as I have you.” He reaches out to me again, cupping my cheek.

All my confusion, all my fear and rage, pulls the siren from her depths.

As my skin illuminates, I swipe out at the Green Man with my dagger, relishing the moment the blade meets flesh.

A normal fairy would’ve flinched from the pain, but he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even bother moving his hand. He just continues to talk. “I do have one problem, enchantress. As exquisite as I find you, you are beyond my control. There is, however, a remedy for that.”

Moving so fast that I can barely follow, he grabs my dagger-wielding arm and twists.

I let out a cry, half in pain, half in rage. Bringing my heel up, I slam my foot into his chest, knocking him away.

He chuckles, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. He holds up my dagger. “Missing something?”

Shit.

Hastily, I reach for my remaining dagger. My gown is already bloody and shredded. I look like a wraith, like a ghost come to haunt these cursed woods.

My hand closes on the weapon’s labradorite handle, and I draw it out.

Des and his father continue to duel overhead, the air thick with their magic.

I shift my weight, tossing my dagger from hand to hand. Somewhere along the way, I became comfortable with the weapon.

The Thief smiles, and then he charges.

Unlike Des’s father, the Thief of Souls cannot appear and disappear at will. He can, however, harness the Green Man’s power.

The oaks begin to hiss and shake, their large bodies bending to swipe at me.

I duck and dodge the attacks as I square off with my opponent, my body thrumming with energy.

When I get within arm’s reach, I swipe out at the Thief, the dagger slashing him across the chest. I follow with my claws, slashing his cheek.

His blood looks striking against his pale green skin.

More. I want more.

I thirst to see him bleed. To see him die.

The sight of all that dark liquid sends me into a frenzy. I move with fluid grace, parrying the Thief’s blows with my blade, slashing and kicking with the rest of my body.

It takes minutes to cover the fairy in his own gore.

This is power.

Foolish of him to fight me.

“You’re going to have to fight a little harder if you really want to hurt me,” I goad the Thief.

He smiles. “That can be arranged.”

Moments later, Mara walks into our clearing, looking a little worse for the wear. The flowers in her hair are wilted, she has dirt smeared across her cheek, and her clothes are nearly as stained and ripped as mine.

It takes her all of two seconds to take in the scene. The Green Man—her mate—covered in blood, dueling the human woman who cut her beloved trees.

“You,” she practically hisses at me.

Vines come at me from all sides, and it’s all I can do to shred through them with my claws and dagger. And still more come at me.