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I slap a palm to his sculpted chest and halt him in the middle of the hall. “Oh no, amigo, our relationship doesn’t work like that.”

He glances down at my hand, and I can tell I’m getting close to riling up the King of Night.

“Our relationship doesn’t work likewhatprecisely, cherub?” he asks, his gaze going shrewd.

“You can’t just keep secrets like that from me.”

He has the audacity to look amused, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I assure you, Ican.”

My eyes narrow. “Des,” I warn.

He removes my hand from his chest. “Is that supposed to be a threatening tone?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He clucks his tongue and brings my hand up to his mouth. “Because if it is,” he continues, “then you’ve got to work on your intimidation game. I mean, you gave it a decent try, but I’m more turned on than anything else.”

Des proceeds to kiss the tips of my fingers, which is totally distracting. Who knew fingertip kisses were even a thing? Because they so are. I’m declaring it here and now.

Focus, Callie.

“Let me show you something,” he says softly.

So much for focusing. Rather than picking up our argument where we left off, I let Des lead me through his palace. We eventually enter what looks like a grand library, the arches of it inlaid with decorative tile. Between several bronze chandeliers hang a myriad of colorful lamps. And that’s not even mentioning the books.

Shelves and shelves of them line the walls and fill aisles of the room, each one bound in cloth or leather. There are also heaps of scrolls stacked along the shelves, the handles they’re wound around made of carved wood and bone, some even inlaid with mother-of-pearl and semiprecious stones.

I spend a solid minute turning in a circle and taking the whole place in.

“Wow,” I finally say.

It smells like leather and paper and something else I’d say was cedar, but who knows? I have the urge to walk up to each shelf and pull out the books and scrolls one by one, letting my hands trail over the dried ink and soft paper. This place feels like magic and wisdom, and I might be having a spiritual experience right now.

I feel Des’s eyes on my face. Eventually he peels his gaze away to take in the place as well.

“Is this the royal library?” I ask.

The corner of Des’s mouth curves upward. “One of them.”

“One of them?” I repeat.

“This one is where many of the realm’s official documents are kept. The main library is on the eastern grounds of the palace.”

I can’t wrap my mind around the sheer magnitude of that.

He leads me to a table, and one of the chairs magically slides out for me. Des takes a seat across from me, and for a second, he just appraises me. When he looks at me like that, I feel acutely exposed.

“What?” I finally say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

He gives me a soft smile. “My mother would have loved you.”

Just saying those words, he’s invited ghosts into this place. I barely remember my own mother, and I don’t have any memories of her being especially loving to me. It’s a beautiful gift to imagine Des’s mother might’ve loved me.

“You think so?” I say.

“I know so.” He says it so steadfastly that my one objection—that I’m human—dies before it ever leaves my lips.

Before I can ask more about the subject, Des lifts his hand and flicks his wrist. Off in the distance, I hear paper sliding against paper.

A scroll rises above the aisles and floats toward us. The Bargainer’s hand is still in the air, and the scroll lands softly in his open palm.

“This is the report taken from the victims who recovered from their imprisonment,” Des says, changing the subject. He places the scroll on the table.