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“You thought anoathwould bind me?” The Thief walks forward, casually surveying Galleghar. “After all you learned of my nature, you thought that would be sufficient?”

“Ifreedyou,” Des’s father says.

The Thief flicks his wrist and a bolt of magic slices open Galleghar’s chest, cutting him down to the bone.

I jerk at the sudden violence, even as Des father let’s out a shocked cry.

He turns to me. “Release me!” Galleghar begs.

“Release you?” I echo.From what?

“Your glamour still binds me,” he explains. “Release me from it.”

The Thief laughs. “You think being able to disappear will save you? I could follow you to the darkest corners of the universe. No place is safe from me.”

He punctuates his words with blow after magical blow. Galleghar’s body jolts at each one, the hits ripping open his flesh. The former king cries out, either in pain or anger.

He tries to get up. “Please,” he implores me again.

The Thief laughs. “You’re begging the slave now? How the tides have turned, my friend. And here I thought you wanted her dead.”

The Thief of Souls flicks his wrist back and forth, back and forth, cutting Galleghar apart inch by inch, a small smile on his face.

“Do you regret the price you’ve paid for power?” he asks.

But Galleghar is beyond words, his face a mass of wounds. Whatever regenerative powers he has, he either can’t or won’t use them.

At some point, I turn away. I’m as bloodthirsty as the next creature, but there’s vengeance and then there’s sadism. This is the latter.

I return to the stone slab, to Des, ignoring the choked sounds behind me.

Softly, I stroke his cheek.How am I going to get us out of here?

“Bargainer,” I whisper, “I’d like to make a deal.”

Nothing happens. I hadn’t expected that anything would, but it’s a letdown all the same.

My other hand drifts to Des’s upper arm, his three bronze war bands cool against my skin. His matching circlet sits perched on his brow. If ever he looked like a king, it would be now, laying here like the solemn dead.

Galleghar has stopped making noise, and the wet sound of skin ripping is gone. In the silence, the Thief’s footfalls echo like tolling bells.

He comes to my side and unceremoniously takes my hand, pulling me away from Des.

“Come,” the Thief says, “I have much to show you.”

I resist. “Wake him up.”

“Okay.”

I spin around to face him, shocked by his response.

The Thief steps in way too close, forcing me to lean back against the altar. His arms move to either side of the slab and cage me in.

“Tell me,” he says, “what would you do to wake your mate?”

Anything.

I don’t respond. I don’t need to. The Thief knows.