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“Before my mother was a scribe, before she was even a concubine, she was a spy,” Des admits, smoothing my hair back as he talks.

I know he’s only trying to distract me, but it works. I settle in for the story as the fae healer begins to lightly run her hands down my wings. I can tell she’s straightening the bones out, but Des’s magic is so potent that what should be agonizing is merely uncomfortable. And I can ignore that discomfort while Des holds my attention captive.

“How did she go from a spy to a concubine?” I ask, my voice soft.

“She thwarted a conspiracy against the king.” He stares at our entwined hands.

I can still feel his ungodly anger in his trembling grasp, and I see it in the dimness of the room, but I don’t say anything. The King of the Night might be frightening to the rest of the world, but he isn’t to me.

“I sometimes wonder just how badly she later regretted doing her job that particular day,” he says. “My father called her into his throne room to personally thank her for saving his life. Whatever words were exchanged is a mystery, but he must’ve been quite taken with her because by the end of the encounter, he had her removed from her post and placed in his royal harem.”

That has me raising my eyebrows. “And she was okay with that?”

Des lets out a breathy chuckle. “No. Not in the least. She was what you’d call anunwillingconcubine. But at that time in my kingdom, things were different, and my father…he was a very different ruler than me.”

The more I learn about my mate’s mother, the more I wish I knew her. And the more I learn about his father, the more I dislike the man.

“After she died, I never imagined I’d come across another woman like her,” Des says. “Someone who’d lived through much and still inherently knew right from wrong. Someone strong and brave.”

His hand squeezes mine. “And then I met you.”

I blink my eyes several times, my throat thick.

Des sobers, his grip on my hand tightening. “When I saw you lying there, your wings broken…” He shakes his head. “It brought back memories from that night in Karnon’s throne room, andthatnight…that night brought back memories of my mother’s death.”

I had…no idea.

No wonder he’s so fierce about punishing those who prey on women; he’s been sculpted by his experiences.

Story time ends shortly after that, and a half hour later, Des has left my side, his heavy footfalls pacing up and down the opposite end of the room.

His boots come to a halt. “Well?” he finally demands.

The healer hovering over me straightens, throwing yet another bloody rag into a washbasin.

“That’s the best I can do,” she says. She’s managed to fuse my wing bones back together and partly seal up the split skin, but it’s obvious the injury isn’t close to being healed.

The shadows in the room shift and thicken. Today is really taking Des’s mood to task.

I don’t know how empty Des’s earlier threat was when he ordered the fairy to heal me, but she’s done her best. It’s not her fault fae and human magic aren’t terribly compatible.

“Temper,” I murmur.

Des comes over to me. “What was that, cherub?”

“Get Temper. She can help.”

You wouldn’t think a sorceress so inclined to evil would be good at healing, but Temper is. Proof the Fates are ironic bitches.

As it turns out, we don’t have to tell Temper at all; the broken door to our guest house is thrown open before Des has so much as left my side.

“Callie.” Power rides Temper’s voice.

Gingerly, I raise one of my hands and wave it weakly.

She rushes to my side, her eyes landing on my back. She inhales sharply. “Whathappened?” I hear the panic in her voice. I must look worse than I think I do for Temper to have that kind of reaction.

Des comes up behind her. “I need you to heal her.” And now he too has an edge of panic in his voice.