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Spirits love to cling to the last of their lifeblood.This woman’s magic is slipping away from her—will her soul slip out with it?

Will I be able to sense that too?

I don’t stick around long enough to find out.

We leave her there, once again making our way to the main entrance of the palace. The closer we get, the more bodies begin to stack up. Here the sounds of fighting are almost deafening. I can tell by the noise alone that a battle rages in the great entryway of the palace.

Rather than heading there, Des takes us to a staircase that leads farther down.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“The dungeons.”

“The dungeons?” I echo. “Why?”

We come to a thick door made of hammered bronze. I can feel a ward humming off the thing.

He turns to me. “Wait here, love.”

“Des—”

But he’s gone.

Chapter 4

I adjust mygrip on my daggers, then shift my weight from one leg to the other.

I stare at the metal door ahead of me, the sounds of fighting at my back. My heart is jackknifing in my chest as my adrenaline zings through me. One minute ticks away. Then another.

The battle above me is calling to my siren, luring my dark nature. My wings flutter and resettle with my agitation, and my skin still glows as bright as ever. I begin to edge away from the door, feeling the pull to return to the fighting. The sane part of me is not all that gangbusters to kill more people, but I can’t just stand here while innocent fairies—

The Bargainer returns to my side, stopping the thought in its tracks. In his hands he holds a stained wooden box.

I glance between him and it.

Seriously,whatis going on?

Des leans down and whispers to the box in what I’m assuming is Old Fae. He pauses, listening, then speaks some more. As he speaks, I can sense the container’s enchantments unraveling. Once they dissolve away, Des stops speaking.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the lid springs open.

I can’t help myself, I lean forward and peer inside the box.

It’s … empty. Until, of course, it isn’t.

Shadows I didn’t notice at the bottom of it begin to stir. These don’t look like Des’s shadows, which thicken and coil like smoke. This shadow is a two dimensional, paper-thin thing that moves.

A bony, shadow hand reaches from the depths of the container, its fingers gripping the edge of the box one by one. It pulls itself out, slithers down the side, then drips from a corner onto the floor.

My breath stutters. I’ve seen this creature before, in Des’s throne room.

A bog.

I’d watched the creature eat a Fauna fae who thought it would be a good idea to gift the King of Night a bag of heads.

Bet the dude regrettedthatdecision.

“Remember our deal,” Des tells the shadow monster.