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“Baptized in blood, given over to your wildest nature, if I could touch your mind, maybe then I’d be satisfied.”

The gore-stained soldier closes in on me, drawing in near enough for me to smell the rot clinging to him.

Des steps in front of me, his wings shielding me from view.

“It’s not my fists you need to protect her from,” the Thief says. I can no longer see him, but I can feel his eyes all over my skin, watching me from dozens of different soldiers. “A single secret can causesomuch trouble—isn’t that right, Desmond?”

My mate says nothing, and unfortunately, I can’t see what expression he wears. His wings, however, begin to fold up, which is at least some indication that his emotions are steady.

The Thief continues. “And we both know you have more than justonesecret,” the Thief says. His eyes slip to me. “Has the King of the Night told you about me and Galleghar?”

What is he talking about?

I step up next to Des and take a good look at him. He’s wearing his secret-keeping face. The longer I gaze at him, the more uneasy I feel.

The Thief raises his eyebrows. “I take ithe hasn’t.” He shakes his head in admonishment. “I know you have a reputation to uphold, Desmond, but one would think you’d atleastbe open with your mate.”

The Bargainer’s eyes move from the soldier’s to mine.

“Cherub,” he says, and I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, “Ihave… been dishonest with you.”

He looks so foreign, so fae.

My heart beats a little louder.

“I told you I knew nothing of the prophecy of Galleghar Nyx or how he and the Thief were connected, but those were lies. I have read my father’s prophecy. I know why he is after you and what he fears. I know when and how he sought the Thief out, and I know how he must be stopped.”

My eyebrows pull together, even as I glance over at Galleghar. The traitor king’s gaze moves to me, and I can see lethal promise in them.

My siren bristles at the threat.

Come closer, fallen king, so that I might better carve you up.

“Desmond, aren’t you going to tell her the rest?” the Thief chimes in. He’s still staring at me, giving me that same uncanny look he used to when he was the Green Man. “Tell her how you learned of my true identity and where I lived. Tell her how you kept that knowledge from her—tell her and the rest of your friends.”

Each statement out of the Thief’s lips is a toxin, slowly poisoning my thoughts.

Has the Night King been deceiving me all this time?

You may have your wiles, enchantress, but you are not one for puzzles. A shame, really, when your mate so clearly is. He’s figured out quite a bit more than you have.

“Desmond,” Janus says, taking a step towards us, “is what he’s saying true?”

Des watches me, not answering, so I answer for him.

“It is.”

I feel my knees weaken as Janus and the others begin to talk at once, voicing their frustration.

Des is smarter than this. Everything I’m learning right now doesn’t align with what I know of my mate. He may be secretive and a little wicked, but he’sloyal. Whatever’s going on, whatever deception the Thief is trying to capitalize on, it must be some sort of smokescreen.

I capture Des’s hand, holding it between my own. There are so many things I want to tell him. How messed up it is that he kept me out of the loop. How I swear to God I will kick him in his fine ass if he continues to make a habit of lying. But more important—

“I trust you,” I say softly.

Des’s gaze is steady, but his eyes, his eyes burn like dying stars. He squeezes my hand. “You are my life, cherub.”

With that, he reaches for the sword strapped to him, unsheathing it in one fluid movement. He strikes down the gore-stained soldier standing before us. Around the room, the sleeping soldiers tense.