My heart begins to pound a little faster. “Rightfully?”

Des’s fingers squeeze my hip, his eyes looking feverish for a moment. “No part of me has any intention of outliving you.”

That’s a bucket of ice water to the face.

I don’t want to talk about this. About my death—or his. We’re very much alive at the moment, and I don’t really want to dwell on the alternative.

“He’s going to come after you again,” the Bargainer continues. “The idiot actually believes you’re an easier target.” The thought brings a shadow of a smile to Des’s lips for a moment.

Galleghar is going to come after you again.

Suddenly, every dark corner of the room seems like it hides monsters. What’s to stop Des’s father from intruding on us right here, right now?

The Night King must know where my thoughts are because he says, “You’re protected within the royal grounds—there are enchantments to keep out fairies like him,” Des says. “That’s likely why he ambushed us en route to Barbos.”

Because there weren’t enchantments along our flight path.

“So I’m stuck here.” My stomach sours at the thought.

Des wraps his arm around my back, pulling me in close. “You’re not stuck anywhere, cherub,” he says, deadly serious. “Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there right now.”

My brows furrow. “You’re not going to try to keep me here?”

I don’t touch on the fact that right now I don’t really want to move an inch from this bed, content to spend the rest of my long life wrapped up in the King of the Night’s arms.

“I will never keep you captive,” Des vows. “Better you happy and free, than caged and safe. Besides—” he leans his forehead against mine, “Galleghar clearly hasn’t heard the stories about you if he thinks to target you.”

“There are stories about me?” That’s news.

Des’s eyes crinkle, his lips pressing together. “Many. What fae can resist a story about the beautiful human who beguiles fairies and escapes the Thief? They can’t get enough of you. Unfortunately, my father and the Thief seem to share that sentiment.”

I lift a bandaged hand and stare at Des’s work. “I should’ve listened to you,” I say thoughtfully. I drop my hand. “Back when you told me to rest.”

“I happen to have great ideas,” he agrees, his mouth curving fiendishly. His expression sobers. “But you made the decision a queen would, putting the kingdom’s needs before your own.”

“Stop using that word.” Queen.

“It’s going to happen, one day or other, Queen Callypso.”

Okay, I’ll admit, that has a nice ring to it.

“What do you have against queens, anyway?” Des asks.

I sigh. “I just want to be a normal girl with a normal job who lives a normal life.” I don’t want to have to worry about an entire kingdom.

The Bargainer rolls us so that he can stare down at me. “Callie, you’ve never been a normal girl, and you’ve never lived a normal life, so I can see the appeal of wanting that. But normal is overrated. Trust me, it’s overrated. I’ve made deals with thousands of miserable, normal people.”

I frown up at him.

“And I’m sorry,” he continues, “but if you think I’m going to let you settle for normal, you’ve got a fight on your hands.”

Damnit. Now that he’s drawn lines, I’ll never get him to budge. If there’s one thing Des is good at, it’s fighting. Oh, and deals. And secrets. And sex.

Screw it all, he’s good at everything. It’s annoying.

“This is just like high school,” I say, remembering those days he roused or manipulated or bargained me into action. Mean, but effective. “You trying to get me to do something you believe is in my best interest.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, cherub. Tell me I’m pushy and bossy and that I don’t know a thing about your deepest dreams.”

See, that’s the rub of it all; now that I know he can hear shadows, he probably has heard all sorts of things about my dreams that I won’t willingly admit. Things that prove him right.

“You’re pushy and you’re bossy,” I say.

He leans in and places a kiss along my sternum. “And I don’t know a thing about your dreams—say it.”

I feel the breath of his magic wrapping around my wind pipe. Only this time, it’s trying to pry the truth out of me, and the truth is that the Bargainer knows a great deal about my deepest desires.

He moves down my body, placing a kiss between my breasts. “I’m still waiting, love.”

Des keeps moving down my body, pressing kisses against my skin.

But I stay silent, and eventually his magic dissolves away.

The Bargainer pauses, glancing up at me. “I love you, Callie, down to every last feather and scale. I love your darkness, I love your mind, I love your humor and your most coveted dreams. And I love how you love me—wholly, deeply, passionately.

“You’re not normal; you’ll never be normal. I’m so sorry to tell you that. You are so blindingly extraordinary that it physically hurts me sometimes, and I’ll never stop pushing you to believe this.”

Des can’t just say things like that. My weak heart isn’t fit enough to take it.

I close my eyes and draw in a shaky breath. “Give it back.”

“What is it I’ve taken, cherub?”

My peace of mind, my loneliness, my torment. My pain, my sanity, my dull little life.

So many things that once made me me are now missing, and—

“Des, I don’t know who I am.”

“You don’t know who you are?” The Bargainer’s voice drops low. “You’re Callypso Lillis, plain and simple. You were her yesterday, you’ll be her tomorrow. It’s up to you to decide what being you actually means. No one else can do that for you. Not the man who gave you those wings, not the man who’s hunting you. Not your stepfather. Not even me.

“But whatever you choose to be, cherub, make it count.”

Chapter 20

It’s late the next morning by the time I tumble out of Des’s bed. The fairy is reluctant to let me go, and I’m not complaining.

A girl could get used to this kind of attention.

I stretch as I pad over to the closet, feeling the Bargainer’s eyes on me the entire time.

“Creep,” I say, not looking back.

“I’d have to be dead to not enjoy your backside.”

I suppress a smile, then begin rifling through the pretty dresses someone’s stocked an armoire full of. I’m not a girlie girl by any means, but fae outfits are one exception I’ll make. I grab a dress that looks like the dawn come to life, purples bleeding into pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows.

I’ve no more than slipped it on when the dress slips itself off.

Swiveling to Des, I raise an eyebrow. “Unless you want to break my vagina, I suggest you give it a rest.”

Relentless is a great way to describe the King of the Night’s sexual appetite. Not that I’m a slacker myself, but even I have my limits—especially when my siren decides to take the night off.

Des appears in front of me, turning my healed hands palms up.

“Are you going to read my fortune?” I tease.