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“How tragic for you.”

“What the fuck would you have me do, Juniper?” Puck shouts. “Tell me. What would you do?”

“Find another way!” My voice surges. The octave hits a plateau, a point of no return. I’ve never screamed like this at anyone, not even my family.

“And in what bountiful universe have Faeries historically cared about humans enough to do that?” Puck disputes. “They have zero qualms about eradicating mortals. Of all people, you know this.”

Yes. I know this. I’ve lived this.

Still, I can’t take this.

I stab a finger at him. “You claim to have this deep connection to nature. You say that because of this bond, you’ll fade alongside the environment. How does that make you different from humans? My people wouldn’t last without it, yet we find ways around that. We plant, we harvest, we build, and we make humane sacrifices along the way. We don’t forfeit innocent lives.”

That’s incorrect. I realize this error instantly.

Puck seethes. “Innocent. Were your neighbors innocent of that massacre? Did they think of a way around it before deciding to butcher Fae striplings and animals?”

“You were terrorizing my people. I wish they’d sought another option, but they were desperate and scared.”

“And to survive, they jumped into action. As did we.”

“Survive, my ass!” I quote my younger sister. “What about this hunt? What you said about the forest choosing the game, basing it off my fears? Making me hunt an animal in this wild? If this is about restoring what’s lost, then the hunt still doesn’t make sense! Why trade a living animal for a fallen one?”

“Because sometimes nature’s a royal prick,” he says. “An ally lots of times, a prick other times. Either way, it’s the price we pay for our future. The one consolation is that our lifecycle is only compromised when the fauna are slain and left to rot. If we hunt for nourishment, it has the opposite effect, preserving that cycle. That’s why we’d planned to feast on the animal if you were successful.”

I run a hand through my bedraggled hair. “What about my village? You’re still harming humans! My people, my sisters, myself!”

“Not you,” he stresses, quieting me. “That night years ago, I thought you led those villagers to me. I thought you betrayed Sylvan to them, and it broke my heart. And that night in the wagon, when you thought your sisters had vanished, and I’d baited you from the shadows? I’d hated you. And in The Wicked Pines, I’d wanted to stay hating you. I wanted to, so damn much.

“But the instant you stumbled into the candlelight, willful and brave and stubborn as hell, you wore the same expression as the moment we first met. All I felt was loss, and I wanted to punish you for that. And when I saw you in that redwood cage with Sylvan.” He shakes his head. “The look on your face…the way she came to you…I didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself. I couldn’t hate you, but I couldn’t let myself believe I’d been wrong about you. I couldn’t let myself be that lad again. I couldn’t make that same mistake twice.

“So, I fumed, goading the living shit out of you about The Trapping because I wanted to see how you’d react. I dreaded and hoped to find a spark of the girl I’d thought had been my friend. And I did see a flash of that girl, but not all of her yet. I didn’t know what part of myself to trust or what part of you was real.” He stares at me. “Until you shed that tear.”

I remember that tear. I’d let it slip like a secret when beholding The Herd of Deer for the first time.

“Right then, you pulled me from my roots,” Puck says. “I realized I’d been a fucking moron: You never betrayed me or Sylvan.”

“No,” I utter. “I didn’t.”

“From that moment on, I was all yours. No one else would get near you, but I couldn’t make it obvious. Remember in The Skulk of Foxes, I said I’d used a Fae brew to strip the iron tips from your crossbow bolts; well, I did that because how the hell else was I supposed to wield them, to get the weaponry back to you without it seeming intentional?

“During the hunt, I thought I’d be sick, but pretending was the only way to make sure none of my kin touched you. I monitored and misdirected them, occasionally flirted and fondled them into distraction. To do that without arousing suspicion, I had to put up a front. They had to trust me.”

“Keep your enemies close,” I mumble.

Puck nods. “I’m sorry, Juniper. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t.” My voice splinters, but I’ve changed my mind. No longer do I want my name on his lips. “I heard everything you said. I believe you, but it can’t undo any of this.”

“Juniper—”

“Why did you kiss me? I mean…whyif you knew I’d have to die in order for your people to live? Why couldn’t you leave my heart out of this?”

Puck hazards a step, but I thrust a warning hand at him. “Don’t follow me.”

I want to shriek and pull myself together. I want to throttle him and leap back into his arms. I want to go home. I want to stay right here. I want to fight. I want to flee.

I need to leave with dignity before I act on any of those impulses. Shoving my way past him, I slam out of the enclosure and storm down the willow passage to my yurt.