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He looks so thrilled to see me, his eyes twinkling. I almost feel bad for being impatient.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, glancing around the room.

“I assumed you’d want to know more about Solstice.”

I stare at him a beat longer. “It’s sometimes uncanny how well you know me.”

“Iamthe Lord of Secrets.”

His eyes flick to the remaining stack of books. “Oh, you haven’t even gotten to the books with the really juicy information,” he notes.

His eyes move from the stack to his now blacked-out canvas.

He sucks in a breath. “You naughty, naughty thing,” he says, his lips curving up. He flicks his fingers, beckoning the canvas forward. Then he snatches it from midair, studying the tarnished image. “Trying your hand at painting?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You were paintingme,” I accuse.

Had I hoped to make him feel guilty? If so, I’m barking up the wrong tree.

He sets the painting down. “Censorship, you know, is the death of creativity.”

“I don’t care.”

Des levels his face close to mine. “Oh, but if your moans last night were anything to go by, then I think you do care about creativity—in all its forms.”

I flush and then glance at the pile of books again. “When are we leaving for Solstice?” I ask.

“Tomorrow.”

I nearly fall out of my seat. “Tomorrow?”

Now Malaki’s insistence really makes sense. Talk about coming down to the wire with a decision.

Des pulls up a chair next to me before sliding into it and kicking his heels up on the table. He folds his arms over his chest, his war bands catching the light. “If you had read the books, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I don’t even know whatdayit is,” I say. It’s not like the Night Kingdom has calendars posted throughout the palace. “Or, for that matter,” I continue, “how many days are in an Otherworld year.”

“The exact same number as yours.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s June seventeenth,” Des says.

“That’s also not the point.”

He gives me an indulgent look. At the flick of his wrist, one of the books slides off the stack before drifting through the air and settling into Des’s waiting hands.

I look at him quizzically. “What are you doing?”

“Story time, cherub,” he says. “You want answers, and I’m feeling particularly indulgent, so for today, I’ll spoon-feed them into that sinful little mouth of yours.”

I purse my lips, which only causes Des to grab my jaw and kiss me before returning his attention to the book.

He opens the first cover, and the pages begin to rapidly flip. “Ah, yes,” he says when the pages settle. “A Brief History of the Four Kingdoms,” he reads.

He narrates the chapter to me, his voice taking on a cockney accent just for the hell of it as he explains the old rivalries between Flora and Fauna, Night and Day. I stare at him, utterly mesmerized by his voice and charisma.

“Each fights for the Borderland they believe is theirs, even though the Great Mother and Father spoke of the earth, sea, and sky belonging to all fae creatures. Greed was seeded at the dawn of time, and with the cycle of the seasons, it has grown in fairy hearts.”