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“That question will cost you,” he says softly.

My breath leaves my lungs all at once.

He did it. God damn it, he did it.

“Sword arm up, love,” he says, pulling away from me. “Fall into your battle stance.”

I do as he asks, even though my heart’s pounding from his evasion.

“Why?” I ask as he takes his position. He and I both know I’m not referring to his instructions.

The two of us circle each other.

“I think you know why,” he says, all but confirming the rumors are true.

He rushes me then, his sword lifted high.

I spin away, my skirt trailing behind me.

“Is that all you’re going to do, Callie? Run from me?” he asks as I move between the rose-lined pathways. He’s right on my toes. If he wanted to, he could appear right in front of me, but for now, he’s content to chase me like this.

All at once, I swivel to face him, bringing my sword up to meet his.

“Are they dead?” I ask.

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Definedead.”

Jesus.

Our swords spark as I drag mine down and away from him. I spin under his shoulder before coming up for an attack from behind. The Night King turns just in time, deflecting my blow.

“Why?” I ask again.

“No onewhips my mate.” The vehemence with which he says that takes my breath away, so much so that he almost lands his next blow. Instead, I hear a rip as his blade slices through layers of flimsy fabric.

“Defend yourself, Callie,” he growls.

I shuffle backward. “But…how?” I ask, referring to his previous answer. “You agreed to peace with the queen.”

He comes at me like a force of nature.

“And I will have it. There are many handsome men she can fill her bed with.”

But none would be replicas of men she once had relationships with. Des hadn’t harmed her mate, but he’d taken away the men she distracted herself with.

“How will you maintain peace? Won’t she know it was you?”

“Cherub, have you ever considered the possibility that itwasn’tme?” he says, bringing his weapon down like an anvil.

I sidestep the blow before swiping my sword at him. “Are you taking the soldiers?”

He parries my attack. “What if I am?” he asks. “Will you love me less? Hate me more?”

The answer is eerily like the one he gave Mara when she asked him a similar question.

I push away from him, backing up. “Damn it, Des,” I whisper hiss, “I am not some fae queen to trick with your words. Just be honest with me.”

The world seems to go silent, the chirping birds and rustling trees quieting.