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I can’t say how far down I have to climb, only that when I reach the bottom of the hole, Des is there waiting for me, his form illuminated by orbs of light.

“Brave siren,” he says as I drop the last few feet to the ground.

This isn’t bravery. Bravery is facing whatever lies at the end of these tunnels.

Before I respond, I hear Malaki’s heavy weight as he clambers down the ladder. It’s only once I step away from the hole that the general releases his hold on the ladder and drops the rest of the way to the ground, landing heavily on the damp earth.

The general straightens, looking back up at the opening.

As if on cue, I hear angry muttering far above us, followed by the agitated pound of Temper’s feet against the ladder.

When she reaches the bottom, she hops off the ladder and glares at each one of us. “Let the record show that I amnothappy about this.”

“You could’ve waited for us above,” I say.

“I’m not going to wait in some random jungle while my friends hunt a bloodthirsty king. This shit ismyjam.”

Aww, she saidfriends, plural. Someone’s learning how to play nice with others.

Des’s eyes sweep over us, and then he turns and begins striding down one of the tunnels. How he knows which to take is beyond me.

Overhead tree roots cling to the curve of the ceiling, illuminated by orbs of light that bob along above us. Small, fae creatures scurry along the roots, one pausing to hiss at the air in our direction, like it senses something is off. But it doesn’t see us.

“What is this place?” Temper asks, staring at one of the orbs of light as it softly bounces among the tree roots.

“The Angels of Small Death used to use tunnels like these to move sensitive goods,” Malaki says, his voice rumbling.

Ironic that theauthoritythey once hid from is now thecriminalthey’re after.

I glance at our surroundings with new eyes. Des and Malaki must’ve worked within these tunnels for years, moving illegal items, hoarding treasure, and hiding from the king’s men. The whole thing is so surreal to me—this place and all of the lives Des lived long before he was mine.

He was always ours, my siren says.

I stare at the Bargainer’s broad back. I know he’d say the same thing.

The tunnel seems to stretch on for an eternity, and the farther we go, the more my skin prickles. Maybe it’s the close quarters, or the darkness, or being underground—or maybe it’s the man we’re after, but something just doesn’t sit right with me.

Des stops, putting up a hand. “Galleghar is just ahead,” he breathes.

Reflexively, my hand goes to my dagger.

Des begins walking again, and mechanically, I follow him.

Up ahead the tunnel opens into a room, but I don’t see just how massive the chamber really is until we enter it. We must be beneath a hill, for the ceiling arcs high above us. It’s as big as some of the palace ballrooms I’ve been in, though this one lacks all of the beauty and refinement of those fae palaces, the walls here made of plain packed earth. It’s a room meant to store a warehouse’s worth of goods. At the moment, however, it’s mostly empty, save for a few bags of gold.

Well, a few bags of gold … and an undead king.

Across the roomGalleghar sits in a throne of sorts. It’s the saddest sight, seeing him slouched in that silver chair, as though waiting to hear the grievances of an audience that never comes.

His storm-grey eyes are turbulent as they stare off into the distance, and I get a chill, looking at that nefarious face which is so similar to my mate’s.

He can’t see us.The enchantments really did work. We’re standing right in front of Galleghar, yet we’re utterly invisible to the tyrant king.

Floating in the air in front of him is a piece of unrolled parchment, and at his side is a meal—both which he appears to have forgotten about.

Is this what he does all day? Hide and ponder and plot?

My eyes move over the room again. There’s a honeycomb of entrances and exits into this chamber, and I have no idea how I’m going to figure out which one to take when we leave.