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We both stare at the flimsy bit of wood and stone that might’ve very well killed me.

My breath catches.

Someone tried to kill me.

My matesavedme.

Des’s eyes flick up, tracing the trajectory of the arrow back to its source. His gaze homes in on the figure hopping down from a nearby building.

“Guard her,” the Bargainer commands to the soldiers nearest to me, and then he disappears.

A split second later, I see him on a rooftop, his wings spread wide. He grabs a fae man and pulls him close, pressing a blade to his throat. It only takes a moment for me to notice the feathers growing in place of the captive’s hair and the bow and quiver still strapped across his body.

A Fauna fae tried to kill me.

My wings unfurl as adrenaline belatedly surges through me.

Des spins the man so he faces the crowd. And then, in front of hundreds of his subjects, my mate drags his blade across the fairy’s throat. A waterfall of blood cascades from the wound.

Fucking Methuselah, that is one way to handle your enemies.

With a booted foot, Des kicks the fairy off the building.

The crowd below parts as the dying man pinwheels through the air before landing on the ground with a sickening splat.

For several seconds, the Bargainer remains on the rooftop, his chest heaving. He sheaths his weapon then jumps into the sky, his wings fanning out around him. The crowd gasps as they watch those talon-tipped wings—dragon’s wings,demon’swings—soar above them.

He glides over the stopped procession before landing smoothly into his saddle, his wings folding behind him.

The crowd’s earlier cheers have been replaced with an ominous silence. The only one who doesn’t seem affected by it is Des. He reaches for me, pulling me into a savage kiss.

Des tastes like blood and love and death. He kisses me like he’s pillaging my mouth, and I don’t mind one fucking bit. I kiss him back greedily, drinking in my Night King’s essence.

He might be death on wings, but he saved me.

Right in the middle of our kiss, a cheer goes up through the crowd. It’s a little more feral, a little less forgiving, than our audience’s previous roars.

Des pulls away from my lips, his hand on my neck still holding me close. In his eyes I see a spark of fear, a dash of adoration—but most of all, I see a deep and endless well of fury. Here’s the monster behind the war cuffs and pretty fabric, the monster I don’t want to tame, the one I want tounleash.

I am the darkness, his eyes seem to say,and you are my lovely nightmare. And no one will take this away from us.

He blinks, and the swirling chaos in his eyes dies down. “Are you okay?”

I nod.

“Good.”

He releases me, and already my body aches from the absence of his violent touch and his malevolent eyes.

Some soldiers are coming up to us, asking questions, while others are pushing the crowd back. Where the Fauna fairy fell, there’s now a thick cluster of fairies fighting among themselves. Things are turning ugly, and the crowd is getting heated.

Waving away the people who come to talk to him, Des lets out a whistle, signaling for the procession to resume. Rapidly, fairies fall back into line, some mounting their steeds, others resuming their position as foot soldiers.

This time when the convoy moves, it doesn’t meander. My steed begins to gallop, its shoes sparking against the stone road as it races up the streets, following the line of horses and soldiers back toward the palace.

Next to me, Des’s face is set into uncompromising lines. It’s not until we’re through the gates that his expression relaxes—though his hands still grip his reins like he’s choking the life out of them.

Eventually, our group heads toward a building I’ve never seen before. The circular annex is massive, its large double doors thrown open in invitation. Our procession doesn’t slow as it barrels toward it.