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Des backs away from me, his wicked wings spreading wide until his staggering frame seems to fill the space.

“Till darkness dies,” he vows to me.

And then he disappears.

Chapter 33

Des is onhis father in an instant, sword brandished. That’s the cue everyone seems to be waiting for.

With a battle cry, Malaki charges at the sleeping soldiers just as they rush in to meet us. Janus takes to the air, and Temper lets out a low laugh, her power rippling along her skin.

“Soldiers, stop!” I shout, pushing as much glamour into those two words.

The sleeping soldiersshouldstop, but they don’t. Instead they continue charging forward.

The hell?

Five of them close in on me at once, and I barely have time to grab my daggers before I start blocking blows.

I don’t understand.

That thought runs on repeat in my head as I fight my assailants. I duck as a double-sided axe swings over my head, then strike out with my daggers.

I should’ve been able to glamour them all.

“Freeze, soldiers,” I say again.

“I’m afraid they can’t follow your commands,” one of the soldiers says. But it’s the Thief who’s speaking. “They’ve been warded against your glamour,” he says.

Warded against it? I go cold all over. Any advantage I thought I had is gone.

And here I thought that perhaps we’d be able to pull this ambush off. But they’d been ready with their own magic—magic that stripped us of our enchantments and made them impervious to my power.

I hear the rip of fabric at my back and feel the sickening sensation of a blade sinking into skin. I feel the cascade of blood spill from the wound before the pain sets in.

When it does set in, however—Jesus—it stings like a bitch.

Before I can retaliate, another blow follows the first, slicing my arm open.

I stagger forward, right into a soldier covered in dried blood and unnamable bits, my wings manifesting in response to the pain and adrenaline.

Warm blood drips from my arm and my back. And still the attack keeps coming. It’s all I can do to parry most of the blows. Des might’ve trained me on how to fight, but I’m no match againstfivefae soldiers.

“Callypso!” Des roars.

Suddenly, he’s at my side, cleaving through sleeping soldiers. But then his father uses the distraction to appear in front of me, weapon raised.

“You willnotbe my downfall, slave,” he vows.

I don’t even try glamouring Galleghar. Instead, I do what any sane woman might—I kick that fucker in the balls.

Hard.

The reaction is immediate. He doubles over, a choked, hissing noise coming from between his teeth.

That’s all I see before the sleeping soldiers close in on me again despite Des’s best efforts. Blood is spraying around my mate as he carves through them, but there’s always more to fight, and none of them play fair.

“Thief!” Des bellows. “You and I had an understanding!”