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I stare up at him. I can feel his need to squeeze the life out of me.

“Do it,” I taunt him. “Kill me. I know you want to.”

This is my base nature talking. My siren wants the pain and violence. She welcomes the chaos.

The Thief’s eyes thin, even as he smiles. “You are perhaps the only creature alive who dares my violence.” The Thief’s fingers dig in, and he begins choking me. He leans in close. “And I’m acquiring a taste for your foolish courage.”

Can’t breathe.

He leans in close, his mouth only inches from mine. A lock of his dark hair brushes my cheek.

Black dots are beginning to speckle my vision.

“You and I both know I can’t kill you here,” the Thief says, still squeezing my neck.

Need to breathe.

It’s starting tofeellike he’s legitimately killing me.

“… But Icanhurt you.” To emphasize his point, his grip tightens.

I haven’t moved, haven’t struggled. I want to, I want to claw him off of me, but a deeper, more insidious part of me is shaking off her own deep slumber, and she won’t give this monsteranything.

I begin to smile at him, even as darkness creeps in from my vision. “If you want to hurt me—” I’m mouthing the words more than saying them. My surroundings are disappearing as the darkness closes in on my vision. “—you’re going to have to try harder …”

I gasp awake, taking in a lungful of air, then another and another. Overhead, I see silvery wings spread wide.

A moment later, Des’s face fills my vision. “You’re awake.” Relief thickens his voice.

I remember for the millionth time that when the Thief decides to commandeer my dreams, not even the King of the Night can wake me.

I can still feel the press of the Thief’s hand against my neck, and I swear I can taste death at the back of my throat.

Really should stop taunting the Thief.

“Why are your wings out?” I ask, shaking away the last vestiges of the dream.

“Do you know how often I fight this reaction with you?” Des says, sitting back on his haunches. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “A better question would be: why aren’t my wings out all the damn time? I either want to fuck you or fuck up someone for messing with you.”

I give the Bargainer a small smile, and then my eyes return to his wings. I trail my fingers over them again. “Which are you leaning towards at the moment?” I ask.

The Bargainer’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Both.” The expression quickly fades. He traces a knuckle along the side of my face. “You know this is almost over, right?”

I know he’s talking about the Thief of Souls, but for some horrifying reason, I assume he means us. The sheer fear at the thought—it paralyzes me.

Three abrupt raps on the door interrupt us.

“You Majesty,” Malaki calls through the door, “Galleghar has been spotted.”

It has tobe another trap.

That’s what I think when I sit in the throne room next to Des, a strange fae creature standing before us.

“I ssssaw him. The oooold king.” The fae can barely speak coherent words out of its misshapen mouth. Its skin is the color of a bruise, its eyes are reptilian, and its body is thin and hunched.

I have no clue what creature this is, only that I’ve seen it before in one of Des’s sketches.

Des leans his chin on a hand, his pointer finger tapping against his cheek. “Where?”