“Where does she want us to go?”

“To Memnos to slaughter the hateful tyrant Galleghar Nyx, but short of that, Malaki has requested our presence in Barbos.”

I really am tired, both from healing my wounds and from the long days we’ve endured, and I’ve been dreaming of Des’s bed for ages and ages. But there are two psychotic fae on the loose, and the sooner we deal with them, the sooner Des and I can get on with our lives.

I stand, causing the pixies hanging onto me to squeal. “Then let’s go.”

Des stares up at me, unconcerned that a pixie is still pulling at his finger. “Cherub, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest eventually.”

The Bargainer’s eyes narrow. He stands, his chair scraping back. He steps in close, his large frame filling my vision. “You don’t want to go to Barbos,” he says. “You want a break from this madness, and I want to give that to you.” His eyes have gone soft. They search my face, like my unspoken thoughts are written there.

“Des, if we wait, your father might slip away. I am tired, but I’ll rest soon enough.” I take Des’s hand in my bandaged ones. “If we catch your father, he might be able to tell us where the Thief of Souls is.”

A muscle in the Night King’s jaw ticks. So tempting, his features seem to say. He glances away from me.

I give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s end this.”

His hand has started to tremble again. All that pent up rage is fighting for release, and Des is a dark enough creature that he can’t deny it forever. Better to use it on his father.

Finally, he closes his eyes and nods. “We’ll go to Barbos. And we’ll deal with Galleghar Nyx.”

Des and I soar through the clouds, the stars twinkling down on us.

God, have I missed this. There’s no other sensation quite like flying.

The pixies spin around us, laughing as they ride on the wind. Des and I are a touch more somber, the two of us outfitted for battle.

These are, after all, violent times.

I ignore the exhaustion creeping through my bones; I’m pretty sure that, like a noob, I spent too much energy trying to heal my burns, and now I’m paying the piper for it.

Can’t believe how much energy that took. I’ve never actually experienced a deficit of magic. Ever. Yet healing two small burns has nearly tapped me of it.

No wonder iron is so hated and feared among the fae. It’s painful and magically draining.

My heart bleeds all over again for those soldiers Karnon kept prisoner; they were shackled in the stuff.

Seriously though, fuck the Thief and all his sick deeds.

I can almost hear his laughter in my head.

This is our little game …

Only he would think of all these depravities as some sort of game.

The longer I think on it, the more my mind twists and turns, leading me back to that last strange dream.

Does the term small death mean anything to you? he asked me. It was the one question that seemed to be more than just posturing and scare tactics.

And of course, now that I’m level-headed, the term does mean something to me. I’ve heard it all over the place. Somnia is the Land of Sleep and Small Death, Des used to be a member of the Angels of Small Death. And in another dream back in the Flora Kingdom, Galleghar Nyx had mentioned small death.

Now that I look for it, it’s everywhere.

I move in close to Des.

“What’s small death?” I ask, shouting to be heard over the gusty air.

I’ve never actually stopped to ask what the term means.

“Sleep,” Des says, his voice amplified by his magic.

I think he’s misheard me, but then he adds, “Fae consider the loss of consciousness—fainting, sleep, and so on—to be a brief taste of death. The individual is caught between worlds, and so we call this small death.”

Huh. I guess that’s kind of cool. Unhelpful, but cool.

“Why do you ask?”

I glance over at Des. His eyes are too keen.

Though he knows I’ve had nightmares about the Thief, I haven’t told him the specifics about my most recent dreams.

I open my mouth to explain when a dark object manifests ahead of us. I catch a blur of white hair, hear the shrill cries of the pixies as they scatter, and then, next thing I know, the fae has me by the throat.

I grab the fairy’s wrist, trying to pry their hand from my neck when I catch sight of the beautiful fae.

Those eyes … just like his son’s.

Galleghar Nyx grimaces at me, squeezing tighter, his upper lip curling in disgust. “I could snap your neck right now and be done with it, slave.”

I drop a bandaged hand from his wrist, groping along my waist for one of my daggers.

“To think you’ve been walking the halls of my palace—”

My hand wraps around the hilt of my blade.

Gotcha.

“—eating from my table—”

I unsheathe it.

“—sleeping in—”

I slam the dagger into his side, the blade sinking to its hilt.

Galleghar howls, his hold loosening long enough for me to suck in a grateful breath. I yank my weapon from his side.

“Bitch!” He cocks his fist just as an ominous form appears over his shoulders.

The Bargainer leans in close to his father’s ear, his hands gripping Galleghar’s wings. “I was hoping to run into you.” With that, he snaps his father’s wings, the bones making a sickening crack as they break.

Now Galleghar begins to scream in earnest. He releases my throat as Des pulls back his fist and slams it into his father’s head again, and again, and again. I can feel my mate unleashing his wrath as the two men begin to plummet from the sky.

Galleghar disappears, winking into existence in front of me again. The Bargainer follows suit, his wings flared menacingly at his back. But just as soon as Des closes in on him, Galleghar vanishes once more.

It’s that night in Mara’s oak forest all over again, Des and his father bleeding away into the darkness only to reform in another location. The tyrant king is having trouble though, his mangled wings bent grotesquely behind him.

Galleghar’s form disappears yet again, only this time, I don’t see him reform—I feel him. His hands brace either side of my head.

He’s going to snap my neck. I can sense his intent in his very grip, even as gravity begins to drag the two of us towards earth.

Frantically, I call on my siren. If I ever needed my glamour, it would be now.

She rises slowly, like she’s moving through molasses. My skin begins to glow … only to dim. My siren retreats, my magic too exhausted to summon her.

I jerk in Galleghar’s grip, trying to use my wings to shake him. But then Des is there, and then Galleghar isn’t, and the whole thing happens so terribly fast that I get whiplash.

I tumble through the sky, trying to right myself. The universe and all the stars in it spin around me as I fall through the sky.

And then there again is Galleghar, hand at my throat. I slash at him with the dagger in my hand, the blade catching him in the arm. Before he can retaliate, the Bargainer manifests between the two of us, his position forcing his father to release my neck. In his own hand Des grips the sword he carries.

With one swift thrust, Des shoves his weapon into his father’s gut. Galleghar’s eyes go wide as his son jerks it back out of his abdomen. That’s the last I see of the tyrant king as I continue to fall, a cloud swallowing me up.

I desperately try to spread my wings, fighting against wind and gravity. Before I can right myself, Des manifests next to me, scooping my body up in midair.