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They’re just words. They don’t mean anything.

But my bones believe they do mean something. As do my instincts. As does that little voice in the back of my head. They’re all telling me what I feared the moment I woke from that nightmare: it’s not over.

I feel Des’s hand on my stomach, gently backing me away from the children. Dazedly, I let him do so, all the while I stare at the boy. He and the rest of the children follow us with their eyes, and I get the distinct impression they’re tracking me the same way predators track prey. Finally, I turn away from the boy, making a beeline for the exit.

I feel myself trembling. How absurd that a child could frighten me so much.

Des and I are just about to the door when I hear the boy’s voice at my back. “These are dark times.”

My wings tense, hiking up, and thank goodness the castle is full of large doors, otherwise I’d be wrestling with my unwieldy wings to get out of that room.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I draw in a shuddering breath.

How could that boy know to say that line? It’s the same line I heard whispered in the air when I visited the sleeping women weeks ago.

“Karnon’s dead,” Des says.

I nod. “I know.” I run a hand over my mouth.

My fear doesn’t abate. If anything, it grows. The thing is, I didn’t come to see these kids because I was afraid Karnon was alive.

I came here for another reason altogether.

“Do all Fauna fae have animal features?” I ask as we leave the nursery.

My jailers had animal features. As did Karnon. As did the unfortunate Fauna messenger I saw yesterday.

Des stops. “Most do.”

“And Karnon’s children?” I say. “Would they share his features?”

The Bargainer’s mouth tightens. “At least some of them would, yes.”

“Those children didn’t share any of his features,” I say.

By Des’s expression I see he’s already aware of what I’m only now realizing—

Karnon is not their father.

Chapter 7

Karnon is not their father.

Karnon is not their father.

But…how? He was the one imprisoning those women. He was the one sexually assaulting them.

Beside me, Des begins walking again, like this revelation doesn’t change everything.

That’s when I realize—

“Youknew,” I accuse as we head down his palace halls.

Rather than appearing surprised or guilty or ashamed by my accusation—rather than any of those normal responses—Des appraises me with one of his typical devil-may-care looks.

He lifts a shoulder. “So what if I did?”

So what…?