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I can barely follow my own thoughts, mostly because the idea of two different beings residing in one body is so impossible to me.

Butimpossibleis not a term fairies subscribe to.

I stare down at my scales and claws. Hell, these features should be impossible. People don’t just transform the way I did.

The longer I stare at my animalistic features, the more another traitorous thought bubbles its way up. Scales, claws, and wings aresirenicfeatures. Even when I hated them, my siren hadn’t. She’d felt more powerful than ever. And the man who brought these features out in me wasn’t the king trying to suck me under with his magic—he was the one who’d pet my skin and mutter nonsense about my latent wings.

My breathing slows.

“What is it?” Des asks, reading my expression.

I look up at him. “What if…what if Karnon hadn’t been trying to punish me that day in his throne room? What if”—I can’t believe I’m about to say this—“he was trying to save me?”

It’s a wild thought.

Des leans forward, kicking his feet off the table to brace his forearms on his thighs. “Explain,” he commands.

“I was about to die that day. I could sense it.” The whole day is rearranging itself to fit this new possibility. “Karnon transformed me, and it did nearly kill me—but it also brought you to him.

“What if he knew what he was doing? What if he knew something was wrong with him? What if he deliberately baited you?”

Des’s eyes narrow. “I’m not following.”

I run my hands through my hair. My thoughts are all jumbled. “I always thought there were two versions of Karnon, but what if there weren’t two versions of him—what if there was a completely separate entity inside of him?”

Okay, saying that out loud sounds way more ludicrous than it did in my head.

Des reels back.

Seconds tick by. He’s not saying anything, and I’m beginning to think my theory is Grade A crap.

“You think this is why the spell hasn’t lifted?” he asks. “Something or someone else was living inside Karnon, and it escaped his death?”

When he puts it like that…

I lift a shoulder, feeling like a teenager all over again. I don’t know jack about fae magic and its limits.

Hesitantly, Des nods his head, his brows furrowed. “It’s possible.”

I don’t know whether I’m more relieved or frightened by his agreement. Because on the one hand, I’m happy he doesn’t think I sound crazy, but on the other hand…if what I suggested is true, then there’s some malevolent fae creature that can body hop…and it’s still out there.

Still hunting, still killing, stillliving.

Chapter 20

The next day, the palace is in a flurry of activity. Fairies throughout the royal grounds seem to be cleaning, primping, and packing—all, I assume, in honor of Solstice.

I head down the hall, toward Temper’s suite. Before I can get there, she pokes her head out, taking in the fairies rushing down the halls.

“What the hell is going on?” she says. She’s still wearing yesterday’s makeup, and she looks like she got very little sleep.

I scrutinize her a bit more. “What were you up to last night?”

“You mean after you abandoned me to the wolves?” she accuses.

I roll my eyes. If anyone’s a wolf, it’s Temper. “Did you kill anyone at the dressmaker’s shop?” I ask.

“No, but I gave that nasty fairy measuring me split ends and dandruff.”