Probably why I’m not asleep.

  I get up before slipping on one of the least elaborate dresses I can find. Moving from room to room, I look for the Bargainer in our chambers, playing with my wedding ring as I do so. He’s nowhere to be found.

  I could simply call on him. I know the words.

  Bargainer, I would like to make a deal.

  He’d be here in an instant.

  But I don’t necessarily want to pull him away from whatever he’s doing.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself. I ignore the ball of worry in the pit of my stomach.

  I’m imagining things. This is what I always do when life gets too sweet. I assume the worst—and rightfully so, the way my life’s been so far.

  Closing my eyes, I focus inward. Right where my heart is, I feel the glow of my bond. It’s the magical tether that connects me to Des, the thing that physically makes us soul mates. I’ve pulled on his power through our connection, but I’ve never tried to simply find him through it. I know enough about supernaturals to know it can be done.

  I could try.

  My breathing slows. The smells and sounds and sensations all fade as I search down that magical bond.

  And…nothing.

  I open my eyes, feeling ridiculous.

  Where is Des?

  A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I stride over to it and, grabbing the knob, swing it open.

  Malaki stares down at me, looking more ferocious than ever. “I think it’s time we talk.”

  ***

  “Where is Des?” I ask.

  The two of us are sitting in some side room I’ve never been in before. On the wall is an intricate mosaic depicting some great battle taking place in the heavens.

  “Busy being a king.” Gone is Malaki’s good humor. And here I thought we’d bonded last night over that champagne.

  I lean back in my chair.

  “And Temper?” I ask.

  “I am not her keeper.”

  Could’ve fooled me…

  Just then a fairy comes in carrying a tray with an assortment of coffee and pastries on it. Malaki and I are quiet as he lays it out. It’s only after the fairy leaves and the two of us are alone once more that we speak again.

  “Why were you knocking at Des’s door in the middle of the night?” On our wedding night, no less.

  I look around, trying to figure out why I’m here, having a conversation with Malaki, instead of in bed with Des.

  Seriously, where the hell is the Bargainer?

  “How long have you been having dreams of the Thief of Souls?”

  I focus on Malaki once more. “Since Solstice. Why?”

  “You haven’t talked about them,” he says, leaning back in his seat.

  Now that I get a good moment to study Des’s friend, I realize how out of place he looks here in the palace. He’s a hulking, massive man, and with that eye patch, he looks more like a pirate than some dainty fairy.

  “Should I have?” I say. “They’re dreams.”

  But I know better than that. Dreams are never just dreams, especially not the ones I’m having.

  Malaki curses under his breath. “How long has Des known about them?”

  “Since Solstice.”

  The general rises from his seat, looking utterly terrifying. “That fool,” he says darkly.

  I don’t move, but my claws extend and my scales appear, my skin brightening just a touch. “Careful what you say about my mate.” My voice is soft and dangerous.

  A slight to our mate is a slight to us.

  Malaki stares down at me, his gaze growing distracted as he takes me in. “Do you know why they call me the Lord of Dreams?” he asks.

  Dreamweaver, the Thief had called him.

  “It’s because I am the best at what I do.” He doesn’t say this like he’s bragging. He states it like it’s a simple fact.

  My skin dims back down. “And what is it you do?”

  “I can spin dreams.” His dark gaze pierces mine. “I design the setting, I bring in the people, I orchestrate the activities. I can pick an enemy’s mind apart this way—learn his weaknesses, discover his plans.

  “Last night, for the first time ever, I met a force more powerful than my own. And not just slightly more powerful. My magic was all but useless against the Thief’s.”

  The Thief of Souls told me small death was his realm.

  Malaki rubs a hand down his face. “The Thief has an unhealthy obsession with you, Callypso. I didn’t understand the depth of it until tonight.”

  Hearing those words come out of another’s mouth makes my flesh prickle.

  “Desmond admitted to me yesterday that Galleghar and the Thief of Souls share power,” Malaki says. “That they’re co-bound.”

  He pauses.

  I wait for him to continue. The suspense has me tensing.

  “Galleghar was an extremely powerful king, but from what I understand, he could never control dreams, much less slip into them. His magic lay in more tactical areas.”

  I search Malaki’s face. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Galleghar couldn’t control dreams, he couldn’t put fairies to sleep, he couldn’t wear the skin of the dead. Whatever powers the former Night King bequeathed to the Thief, they don’t hold a candle to the ones the Thief already has.”

  My heart is beating loudly. I hear it like a drumbeat.

  “We already knew the Thief of Souls is powerful,” I say.

  Malaki shakes his head. “You’re not following. The Thief’s power eclipses mine—and it eclipses that of a king, a powerful one. And I fear—”

  Commotion outside the room interrupts us. A moment later, the door bursts open, and a royal guard steps inside.

  “Your Majesty, my lord,” the breathless guard says, nodding to each of us. “We can’t find the king, and—”

  Wait, Des is not on the palace grounds at all?

  “What is it?” the general asks, standing.

  I stand too. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. At my back, my wings itch to come out.

  “Sleeping soldiers,” the guard says. “More of them have broken through our portal, and now they’re headed for the gates.”

  Chapter 29

  Malaki is already striding to the door. He points to me. “You need to bar yourself. Guards—”

  He’s not being serious, is he?

  “I’m coming with you,” I say, following the general out the doors. “I can stop them.”

  Malaki lets out a breath. “Desmond would want me to protect you.”

  Des, who’s noticeably absent. “Desmond would love to see you try.”

  Malaki mutters something about stubborn human women under his breath.

  The two of us head down the hallway, surrounded by guards.

  “I can stop the soldiers with my glamour,” I insist.

  “Do you really think I’ve forgotten?” Malaki asks, his voice sharp. “The problem is the Thief knows that too. Whatever this is, it’s most certainly a trap.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Malaki grabs my upper arm before swiveling me around to face him. “Damn it, Callypso,” he growls, “you will listen to me!”

  My skin brightens. “Let go of me.”

  Malaki’s hand drops from my arm.

  “No one talks to me that way,” I say, venom in my voice. “Not even Des, and definitely not you.”

  “You are thinking with your heart, not your head!” Malaki says. “I’ve seen hundreds of men killed for doing similar.”

  My voice heats. “Do you really think I’m eager to run headlong into battle? That I want to be killed or captured and reunited with that monster we’ve been hunting? You forget—I’ve been his prisoner once before. I’ve seen what he does to the fairies he plays with.”

  So long as I live, those memories will never leave me.

  “What’s going on now?” Temper’s voice carries from down the hall.

  Startled, Malaki and I turn to face her.

  My friend looks sleepy and disgruntled, but despite that, her hair is on point, and she still managed to slip on a glittering black dress.

  She fairies it way better than I do.

  I relax at the sight of her. The thing about being best friends for as long as Temper and I is that half our conversations don’t need words. All she has to do is take one look at my face and my exasperated expression, and her sharpened gaze slides to Malaki.

  “What have you done to put that expression on my friend’s face?” she demands.

  “Temperance,” Malaki says, “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Then you better make time.”

  He hesitates, and that’s all the opening I need.

  I mouth thanks to Temper and slip down the hall.

  “Hey!” Malaki shouts after me, but then I hear Temper lay into him, and let me tell you, that girl knows how to rip a man a new asshole.

  A few guards have broken away from Malaki; they now trail after me. If any of them disagree with me getting involved in this situation, they keep that opinion to themselves.

  I enter the entrance hall and head toward the huge bronze doors leading out.

  Can’t believe I’m doing this. Des wanted me to be his queen, and I fought and fought against that… And now I find myself here, eagerly taking on a threat to his kingdom.

  The guards manning the main entrance open the doors for me, and then I’m passing them by, leaving the castle behind me.

  I halt when I notice them.

  Formerly sleeping soldiers march up the streets of Somnia, headed right for the gates, and there must be hundreds of them. These sleeping soldiers aren’t from the Night Kingdom. Some have flowers sprouting from their hair; others have feathers and tails.

  This is what remains of the Thief’s stolen army. These are the victors, the ones who’ve been terrorizing the Flora and Fauna Kingdoms. The evidence of it is in plain sight—most of them are covered in gore, blood, and other bits matted into their hair or else dried and discolored on their clothing.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned of fairies, it’s that they take grooming very seriously. Which makes the whole thing all the ghastlier. This army looks like the risen dead.

  But despite their gruesome appearance, they’re not madly striking out for once. And they’ve come here of all places…

  One of the royal aides bustles up to me. “My queen, we barred the ley line portals just like the king asked—they got through anyway.”

  The Thief’s power…it eclipses that of a king.

  “We took several of the soldiers down at the portal entrance, but they’re not attacking…”

  I take an audible breath, and the aide stops talking.

  “I’ll deal with them,” I say, still eyeing the soldiers.

  The aide backs away, leaving me alone. Ahead of me, the soldiers march in orderly lines, their faces passive.

  The moment they reach the gates, they stop. Their final footfall echoes through the streets, and then all is silent.

  I take another deep breath and cross the yard, toward the fence that encircles the palace. As I approach the soldiers, I release my siren. My skin illuminates, and my stride turns a little sensual.

  “You are not to harm any of the Night King’s subjects,” I shout, my voice carrying through the night.

  Silence. Then—

  “We’re not here for them,” one of the soldiers says. Her voice is quiet, yet her words seem to reach every corner of this city.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “You know why,” another soldier says.

  I don’t. I stop several feet from the gate. “Enlighten me,” I say softly.

  “Your days are few, enchantress,” a soldier across from me says. “We look forward to spreading those pretty thighs of yours and seeing what a king’s treasure tastes like.”

  It tastes like your death, my siren whispers.

  Around me, the night darkens.

  Des.

  “The next soldier to threaten my wife will be openly eviscerated,” the Bargainer calls at my back, his voice ringing into the night. “And please test me.”

  I spin to face him.

  The King of the Night paces toward me, clad in his royal regalia. His bronze circlet sits across his forehead, and his three bronze war bands are on prominent display. He even wears a cape, and it should look ridiculous, fluttering and snapping behind him, but if anything, it seems only to add to his menacing presence.

  Des comes up to my side, his wings fanning out behind him. “I leave for one hour, and look what trouble my mate gets herself into,” he says softly, his eyes glinting. “You’re not even wearing your daggers. Have I not taught you better?” He snaps his fingers, and the daggers and their holsters manifest, fitting themselves around my hips.

  Beyond him, Malaki is storming out of the palace. Temper saunters out behind him, looking pleased.

  For the moment, Des and I have Somnia’s attention. His people watch from windows and rooftops and the streets below. The soldiers stare sightlessly forward, though I know that behind those seemingly empty eyes lurks the Thief of Souls.

  Des eyes them. “Why are you here?” he asks.

  “Is it not custom for new rulers to meet?” a soldier replies.

  As I stare out at the sleeping soldiers, I notice that among them are a few casket children. I bite back my horror at the sight of their sweet faces covered in gore, their eyes filled with malicious delight. Their bodies might be young, but whatever souls reside within them, they’re ancient corrupted things.

  “The Night Kingdom does not recognize your rule, Thief,” Des says.

  For a moment, the only noise is the snapping of the Bargainer’s cape in the wind. Then a low laugh starts among the soldiers. It raises my gooseflesh, hearing that evil laugh ripple through the line of them.

  “For now.”

  I step forward, my skin burning bright. “You’re so eager to acquire this kingdom, and yet here we all stand. I dare you to make good on just one of your threats and take me.”

  Come for me, and I will rip you to shreds.

  I’m not surprised when the air darkens. Des hates when I bait the Thief.

  “Tempting,” the soldier says.

  I open my arms. “Take me, Thief. Right here, right now. I know you want to.”

  “Cherub,” Des warns.

  I ignore the King of the Night as I step closer to the edge of the property.

  A great hush has fallen over the crowd. It was silent before, but now it’s as though the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I feel a thick dark magic pooling around me. Whoever the Thief of Souls is, his hunger presses down on me.

  The first line of soldiers steps forward until they’re right up against the fence. After grabbing their weapons, they lift them and strike out at the bronze railing.

  Before their steel ever hits the fence, it collides with an invisible barrier, some strong enchantment made to ward off the enemy. The ward doesn’t simply hold—it blasts the line of soldiers back like an explosion, throwing them into their comrades.

  Another line of soldiers steps forward and attempts to break the enchantment, and like the first row, they’re blown back. Then a third row comes forward—

  “Stop,” I command.

  Immediately, the crowd stills.

  I look over the men and women, with their empty eyes. “You might be strong, Thief, but today won’t be the day you defeat the Night Kingdom.”

  “So confident. So strong,” a soldier says. “My, haven’t you grown into your role. I wonder if that will always be the case.”

  “Leave,” I command, “before the good citizens of this place decide you are all better dead than alive.”

  The soldier’s eyes flash as he dips his head. “Until next time, enchantress.”

  The lot of soldiers turns, their movements robotic.

  “Oh, one last thing—” I say to their backs. “You will not harm another fae. Ever.”

  ***

  You know what the most annoying thing is about these drop-ins? There always has to be some long discussion following them. Everyone has to regroup and decide on a plan of action, but there’s really no way to plan for a man like the Thief of Souls. He doesn’t play by the rules, it’s not clear what he wants, and there seems to be no orderly way for us to stop him.

  But I sit through the meeting anyway and listen to everyone rehash the past several hours all over again. Once the meeting is over, it’s clear Des and Malaki have more to talk about, the two of them moving to a corner of the room, where they continue speaking in low voices.

  I turn to Temper. “Down to raid the kitchen?” Need a drink after that meeting.

  “Do you really have to ask?”

  Fifteen minutes later the two of us are sitting in some random hallway, munching on a tray of pastries and drinking fae spirits straight from the bottle.

  “It’s been too long since we’ve done this,” I say.

  It used to be a weekly thing. We’d go out, or we’d stay in, but it would always be together. Sleepovers, brunches, late-night movie nights, barhopping, clubbing—we were attached at the hip.

  “You can say that again.” Temper sighs. “That alone is reason enough to kill the Thief of Souls. He’s messing with our routine.”

  I take a big bite of a cheese-filled pastry before washing it down with a swig of fae wine.

  I pull the bottle away and stare at it. “Ever notice fairies make their liquor way too sweet?”

  “Right?” Temper says. “Never thought I’d crave cheap scotch so much in my life, but here we are.”

  I turn to her. “Thanks for earlier—you know, with Malaki.”

  “Anytime. You know how it is with us.”