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The serpent lets out a thundering roar, sending the snow dusting off the tree branches. Talan doesn’t react. He stands with the predatory stillness of a tiger, and then he lunges.

From the iron gray clouds, lightning flashes. Thunder rumbles over the wintry horizon, and a charge skims over my skin, raising the hair on the back of my arms.

Talan thrusts the flame at the basilisk, and the monster swipes at the torch with its brutally sharp claws. It misses, and Talan darts forward, driving his blade into the serpent’s throat. The basilisk screeches, a furious, otherworldly howl that vibrates through the air. It swipes again, the edge of its claw missing Talan by a hairsbreadth.

I flatten my palms against the cold glass.

He told me to run, and yet, here I am. What the fuck am I doing? What’s it to me if he dies? Nothing, but he would haveeasily escaped the basilisk if it weren’t for me. Anyway, his death is supposed to be timed with Auberon’s.

I can’t look away. I’m pressed against the glass, watching him square off against a monster. One little misstep will mean death for the prince, and I’m afraid he won’t last much longer. The basilisk is faster than it first appeared. More careful, now.

Slowly, its attention shifts from the flame to Talan himself. This creature has been an expert in the game of killing even longer than Talan has, a monster who hunted before the prince drew his first breath. If I hadn’t slowed him, Talan would have fled this basilisk long ago. But now, he’s stuck facing him down.

The serpent swings clumsily again, but it’s a feint. Talan dodges as the creature’s other claw arcs toward him in a calculated strike. The blow takes Talan by surprise, and his shirt rips to shreds, blood streaking his arms.

I need to flee out the rear window like he told me to. He’s sacrificing himself to buy me precious time.

But something tugs at me, a sensation that coils around my ribs, something familiar and dangerous, some sort of magical energy surrounding the basilisk. It hums and buzzes with electricity in a way that feels achingly familiar—like the Veil.

My breath fogs the window glass as I summon my Sentinel powers and see it—a barrier of energy wrapped around the monster. It glimmers faintly, a shimmer in the rising dawn.

Talan won’t be able to hurt this thing as long as it’s shielded by magic, but he doesn’t know it.

I rush across the room to the wooden chest and peer inside. It’s full of weapons—two axes, a few hunting knives, a short sword, and a bow, alongside a quiver. I snatch the bow, sling the quiver over my shoulder, and run to the door, stepping out into the snow.

The basilisk’s eyes snap to me instantly, but I refuse to let myself look at them. Staring into its eyes is madness, death.

Talan lunges forward, driving his sword toward the serpent’s throat. The blade hits the magical barrier and bounces off, sending a shower of sparks into the air. The basilisk roars again, but now there is frustration beneath the fury, the flicker of annoyance at the shield’s failure to grant it complete invincibility.

Talan glances back to me, his brow furrowed. “I thought I told you to run.”

Instead, I nock an arrow, drawing the bowstring tight. I force myself to clear my mind. My breath slows, the world narrowing to the curve of my bow, the feel of my fingers on the string. All that exists is the basilisk and the arrow. Summoning my Sentinel powers, I let the energy flow through me, sharp and cold.

Furious, the basilisk hurtles toward me, shockingly fast.

I unleash my powers—blood-red tendrils—and loose the arrow. My magic slams into the magical shield, knocking the creature back. Instantly, the barrier flickers and sputters like a dying candle. My arrow juts from its chin.

Enraged, it rises onto its hind legs and roars. The wild, guttural sound shakes the snow from the trees and rumbles right through the soil.

I’m already nocking another arrow. As I unleash it, the basilisk lunges for me. The arrow sails past. The creature is charging at me in a tidal wave of claws and teeth, and I don’t have the chance to shoot again.

Talan leaps in front of me, shielding me with his body. Sending out my powers into the air, I strike at the barrier, my crimson magic slamming into it. The shield flickers one last time before shattering, and Talan drives his sword deep into the basilisk’s body. The creature stumbles back two giant steps, then crashes to the ground. The shimmering green scales fade to gray, and the monster’s muscles go slack, the serpentine tail lashing back and forth.

Golden light illuminates the clearing, the rising sun breaking through the trees behind us. The basilisk shimmers, and its hulking form starts to shrivel.

Cracks form in the dry husk. The basilisk is no longer a fearsome monster but rather a wingless serpent in the blood-streaked snow. It writhes in pain, convulsing in its death throes.

Talan lowers his sword, and the serpent crumbles to dust.

I stare at the remnants on the ground, something twisting painfully in my chest.

When I look up again, Talan is staring at me, his expression intent. “You didn’t leave.”

Don’t fucking ask me why. I don’t know, either.

CHAPTER 8

In an hour, I become a princess of the Fey kingdom. It’s hard to imagine the Nia of today explaining to the Nia of a year ago precisely what the fuck is happening. The Nia of a year ago, working in a bookstore, would have stared dumbstruck at this news over her packed lunch of turkey sandwiches and granola bars. Over the shop window, gold letters readWhere Your Fairytale Comes to Life,but I never imagined it being quite this literal, or that the fairytale would involve so much blood.