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What are the chances that’s my Night King?

Zero, my mind whispers.

I rise to my feet, trying to be as silent as possible. Not that I’m doing a great job being innocuous. Kind of hard to go unnoticed when you’re in a dark wood wearing a glowing dress.

I begin retracing my steps. I think I can figure out a way back to my suite; I just have to get out of this forest.

Another branch snaps, and I jump at the sound.

Is someone following me?

And where’s Des?

Just when I’m sure I’m heading in the right direction, the forest seems to deepen rather than give way to the Sacred Gardens.

I massage my forehead. Did I really get it all backward? The smoky remnants of the bonfires seem stronger here than where I woke up…but there’s no music, no laughter, no sounds of any revelers.

I’m utterly alone.

Behind me, leaves crunch.

I tense.

Maybe I’m not alone…

Slowly, I swivel around.

Off in the distance is a broad-shouldered man with a shock of white hair.

“Des!” I instantly relax. I head to him, first walking, and then, when he doesn’t come any closer, I begin to run. “Des!”

Before I can get to him, he disappears.

That stops me in my tracks.

He’s coming for you…the trees whisper.

“Des?”

I feel the press of metal against my throat, and from the edge of my vision, I can just make out Des’s white-blond hair.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

If this is his idea of training…

But it’s not training. It’s not. I sense the malicious intent in the rough grip he has on me and the way the blade digs into my flesh, like it wants my skin to split.

The Bargainer’s supple lips skim over my cheekbone. “Fear me, mortal,” he whispers, “for I will be your undoing.”

Des brushes a kiss against my skin and then drags his knife across my throat.

***

I wake with a choked cry, holding my neck.

Not dead. Just a dream. Just a dream.

Des has my body cradled in his arms.