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“Even buried beneath a bed of lies, the truth will always make itself known.”

Author Unknown

I hear him over everything else, the screams and cries, the slap of boots on cobblestones and clang of clashing metal. Ever shouting my name is the only sound in this world that can pry open my lids as consciousness fades. Amidst the black spots that speckle my vision, I see him sprinting toward me. Arms and legs pumping, fear wild in his midnight eyes.

As fast as he is, he won’t be fast enough to save me.

My heart begins to slow, my throat straining against the rope cutting below my jaw.

My feet kick but there’s nothing except air beneath me.

Blackness swells, swarming until all I see is a pinprick of light and the panicked face of the man I love.

Something brushes my legs. Squeezes and lifts. The pressure on my throat eases. Through the haze I find Nolan gripping my legs, holding me up as I gasp, filling my lungs with sweet air. The other guards watching the dais don’t seem to know what to do. Their heads swing from their new king, to me, to the onslaught of Unseelie fae emerging from the settling dust.

Ronan launches to his feet, bellowing for the men to kill the Unseelie warriors.

There must be hundreds .

Everett’s village had seemed so small. Where did they all come from?

One man towers over the rest, leading the charge, shouting orders of his own in a language I’ve never heard before.

Ever moves like lightning, and when I open my eyes again, he’s here, his bone-handled dagger slicing through the rope still holding me aloft. Nolan stumbles under my weight, but Ever catches me, cradling my trembling form in arms as steady as the ground beneath us.

Carefully, he cuts away the length of rope, tossing it aside with a growl. “Kerris?” he breathes, his dark eyes desolate and his calloused hands cupping my cheeks. “Speak to me.”

“You came for me.” The words break from my lips, jagged and hoarse. This man found a way to traverse the treacherous Divide without a bridge.

He made one.

His lips twitch, followed by a flash of sharp white teeth. “Always.”

“Guards!” Ronan roars, desperation in his demand. His plans are falling apart around him and there’s no telling what he’ll do to try and keep things together.

There’s been too much death already.

Why can’t he see that he’s been beaten?—

A haunting howl lances through the melee and the whole world stills. Men with swords raised, fae running for cover—it’s as if time itself stops.

There, on the far side of the square stands a red-eyed wolf with a string of drool clinging to its gaping maw. Its head reaches nearly to the top of the fountain, as tall as the unicorns the Unseelie usually ride.

The terrifying beast isn’t alone.

Four more wolves emerge from the alley, their sharp teeth painted red.

The closest one lunges for a Seelie guard, its teeth closing around the man’s arm. The guard lets out a terrifying scream as he’s dragged away and his cries for help fall silent.

The other guards tremble in their armor, their swords swaying like branches in a breeze.

All this time, I thought the threat wasn’t real.

And all this time, the wolves must have been lying in wait…on our side of The Divide.

The Unseelie leader shouts, and the Unseelie fae shove past the guards, creating a perimeter around their Seelie neighbors.

Ever flips his dagger and extends the hilt toward me.

“Don’t go,” I beg, clinging to his arm.

Ever presses his dagger into my hand, forcing me to take it. “You remember how to use this, yes?”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. “Y-yes. But?—”

“Listen to me, Kerris.” He cups my face with steady hands. “I once said that you were soft, but I was wrong. You have the fiercest heart that I have ever known.”

He’s wrong. I’m not fierce. I’m terrified.

Nia’s scream cuts through me like a scythe. She and her mother huddle under chairs as the wolves stalk around the crowd, selecting their next victims.

The dagger’s hilt bites into my palm as my fingers tighten.

You have the fiercest heart that I have ever known.

Ever wouldn’t lie to me. Not about something like this.

I might be afraid, but that doesn’t mean I cannot be fierce as well.

Today, I looked death in the eye and emerged the victor. I did not survive execution to lose those I love to some bloody wolves.

Ever’s hands fall away. “Keep your grip tight and always go for the kill.”

The kill.

The kill.

The kill.

He presses a kiss to my forehead with a whispered, “I love you.”

Before I have a chance to return the sentiment, he’s slipping away, running toward where Maddox and Gryffin wait with steady swords and matching grins. Gryffin tosses Ever one of the two blades he carries.

Ever shouts and his friends launch forward, swords raised and a battle cry tearing from their throats. The wolves attack with ferocity, snapping out with teeth and claws, but they’re no match for the Unseelie. The warriors move in tandem, almost graceful, like they’re in a complicated dance. They slice with precision, cutting down the first wolf before attacking the next.

The second beast falls to the sounds of cheering fae.

The Seelie guards recover, surrounding the third wolf while Ever starts for the final beast still circling the crowd.

Crimson paints the cobbles, running in rivulets between the stones.

A woman’s screams tear through the square as the queen is ripped from between two fallen guards. She goes down in a flurry of satin and blood while Ronan clutches his bejeweled dagger beneath the throne where he hides.

The queen’s cries fall silent, followed by the sickening crunch of bones and the spray of scarlet across the wood and stones. Seelie guards try to save her, but they’re no match for this wolf.

Then its head swings toward where Nia clings to her mother.

Go for the kill.

Stumbling to my feet, I race toward the wolf.

The last beast I met got the better of me, but I vow to the chaos that this one will not. I will do whatever is necessary to save my family.

Ever’s words from when we sat by that peaceful fire all those nights ago drift on a coppery breeze.

Keep your grip firm .

You can swipe across the throat.

Stab the eye and strike the brain.

Angle the blade upwards to avoid the ribcage and strike the heart.

The wolf is so focused on Nia that it doesn’t seem to notice me sprinting right for it. Not until it’s too late. The wolf’s head turns, but I’m already guiding my blade into its eye. The wolf snarls and whimpers, its hind legs knocking chairs aside as it stumbles back. An Unseelie fae leaps onto its back and drives his blade into the side of the wolf’s neck.

Maddox.

Blood sprays like rain, painting Nia and my aunt in gore.

My aunt collapses to the ground in a heap while Nia trembles, staring slack-jawed at the fallen beast, her face as white as her hair beneath the blood.

It’s too soon to celebrate victory. Not when we don’t know if more wolves stalk these streets. “Get under the dais. Hurry!”

Together, Nia and Maddox drag her mother’s limp body toward the wooden platform where my father, Theo, and Cora crouch. I motion for those closest to follow, keeping my grip firm on my dagger as I scan for more beasts.

Ever appears through the mayhem, blood splattered across his bare green chest and a smile on his face as he runs toward me. My dagger clatters to the cobbles, and I throw myself into his embrace.

With his strong arms banding around me, I let myself break. “I did it. I stabbed the wolf.” My blow might not have killed the beast, but it certainly slowed the monster down.

“My brave Seelie fae. I am so proud of you.” His sharp intake of breath hisses against my temple. When I draw away, I find him wincing. Before I can ask what’s wrong, I see the gash in his side.

One of the wolves must’ve gotten him.

“Water…” Ever needs water. Carefully, I lift his arm over my shoulder and help him shuffle toward the well, only to find Ronan and a handful of guards blocking the path.

This must be some sort of sick joke. “Get out of the way, Ronan.”

“It’s not Wednesday,” our new king snarls, dragging a hand beneath his red-rimmed eyes. “The treaty expressly forbids any Unseelie from accessing the well on any day but Wednesday.”

He cannot be serious. “They saved us.”

“They failed . The wolves killed my mother and countless others. They will never drink from the well again.”

Can’t he see this isn’t time for an argument? There are too many wounded fae. Too many barely clinging to life. The Unseelie didn’t have to help, but they did anyway.

Clearly, there is no reasoning with this man. “As a Seelie fae, it is my right to access the well.”

“You are a traitor and a murderer. Guards! Arrest this woman!”

Nia stands next to me, her face smeared with dirt, blood, and tears. Behind her, Maddox clutches his bleeding arm. “I am a citizen of Rosehill, and I demand access to the well.”

“I demand access to the well,” my father’s voice booms as he sidles up behind us.

Followed by another fae I’ve never seen before. And another. And another.

The guards exchange wide-eyed glances before the one at the front steps forward. “Sire, don’t you think?—”

“Hold your post, General, or you will be branded a traitor and relieved of duty.”

A woman appears from what remains of the crowd, one I recognize from Trevor’s favorite café. In her trembling hands, she holds a cup of water. “From my bakery,” she says, extending the glass toward Ever.

Slowly, he reaches for the water, as if worried he’ll scare her away. “Thank you for your kindness,” he says, taking the cup and drinking his fill.

She offers him the smallest smile, then pushes her way through the people, back into the café.

A man and woman emerge from a building in the square clutching canning jars filled to the brim with water. They come to a halt in front of us, offering one to me and one to Maddox. I use one to wash and clean the wound at Ever’s side. Worry doesn’t lessen its grip on my chest until the gash starts to knit back together.

More Seelie race into buildings, emerging with glasses and mugs and pitchers of water from their taps. Water they offer to the wounded Unseelie fae.

Ronan calls us traitors, threatening all manner of punishment.

No one pays him any heed.

Gryffin stomps toward the well, scowling at the guard who tries to stop him. The man must realize the threat because he quickly steps aside. Once his flask is full, Gryffin goes to where Ivee whimpers, her right leg drenched in blood. She snatches the flask without so much as a word of thanks, dumping its contents onto her tights.

“ You ,” Ronan snarls, hatred bleeding from his hardened blue eyes as he glowers at me.

Nolan limps over to his friend, his eyes narrowed. “Kerris didn’t kill Trevor Dillon. Ronan did.”

Nia’s hands fly to her pale cheeks, but I’m too stunned to move. To breathe.

How could the prince do such a thing to his own friend?

Ronan turns his scowl on his former guard, the veins in his neck bulging with rage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What I should have done the moment I realized what a twisted bastard you were.”

The general’s head swivels between Ronan and Nolan. The guards who aren’t nursing their wounds stalk forward, not to Ronan’s defense, but to Nolan’s.

“King Ronan ordered us to kill any Unseelie fae who crossed the bridge,” a guard with a bushy beard announces.

“Lies!” Ronan spits, his backside ramming into the well as he tries to back away from their accusations.

“King Ronan went to the victim’s house on the night of his death,” another chimes in.

Where were all these cowards when I was being faced with charges of murder? How could they let me die for the prince’s crimes?

“Who are you going to believe?” Ronan warbles. “These traitors or your king?”

The crowd presses in on all sides; the blinders they’ve been wearing have fallen away. The Unseelie aren’t the monsters they feared. The true monster has been hiding in Castle Rose all along.

Ronan’s cornflower eyes find mine once more, narrowing into slits. He tears the sword from the general’s grip and lunges for me.

Trips.

And lands on the blade.

A pitiful gurgle falls from his lips, blood gushing out in a macabre pool.

The guards step back to keep the king’s blood from staining their black boots.

King Ronan Reve dies at our feet, a sword protruding from his back and Ivee’s screams tearing through the blood-drenched air.

He deserves this , I remind myself even as tears prick the backs of my eyes. He came to this square today to watch me die. So I swipe the tears from my eyes and turn my back on him the same way he turned his back on me.

Ever watches with a solemn expression on his handsome face. When he opens his arms, I fall into them, and the world in chaos falls quiet as I listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

The bodies of those lost are covered and left for the mortician to collect while the rest of the fae watch in stunned silence as the Unseelie drag the wolves’ carcasses back toward their makeshift bridge.

With his arms still tight around me, Ever orders the Unseelie to follow the wolves’ tracks to make sure no more haunt our city and to find out how they reached Rosehill in the first place.

The temple doors swing wide on groaning hinges. A bearded man in red robes emerges, walking through the macabre scene as if it doesn’t exist. How many other fae were hiding in their homes, watching their neighbors be slaughtered?

When he reaches us, he comes to a halt. “Are you Everett Gathin?”

Ever nods. “I am.”

“Are the rumors true? Are you King Bandon’s eldest son?”

“He is,” Nolan announces, joining the robed man. “There are letters from Everett’s mother to the king among the queen’s private correspondence. They were intercepted before the king could read them.”

Madame Ella steps out from the crowd, her emerald gown as pristine as ever. “I can confirm that the king commissioned dresses for his mistress, Willow Gathin.”

All this time, she knew the woman’s name and never mentioned it. When our eyes meet across the crowd, she shrugs.

The bearded man turns back to where we wait, his expression giving nothing away. “Do you have anything to verify these claims?”

From his back pocket, Ever withdraws a letter, one bearing the king’s wax seal.

I’m not sure what the letter says, but it must be proof enough because the man nods and then collects Ronan’s crown from where it lay on the cobbles.

His voice booms across the square, clear and strong. “Let it be known far and wide that King Bandon’s son Everett Gathin is now the King of Willowhaven.”