Page 193

“And that was the Thief’s fatal mistake. The god forgot that our power comes from the same source, a source has its own free will. So the shadows and I—we tricked him.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I spoke to the darkness during the only times I knew the Thief wasn’t listening—when you dreamed of him.”

All those sick dreams—Des couldn’t stop them from happening, but he could use them against the Thief.

“The shadows told me everything I needed to know, and it was them who helped me strike the deal with Euribios. And when the time came, it was the shadows that severed the Thief’s hold on me.”

He trusted the darkness with everything that mattered to him. .

“Why do you think the shadows helped you?” I ask. For years they’d been unwilling to breathe a word against the Thief.

Des stares down at me, his gaze intense. “Even before I could really use my power, I spoke to the darkness. They were my first friends.”

I think of that lonely, pale-haired boy who lived on Arestys, and my heart aches for him, even though that boy’s struggles made him the man I love.

“Euribios brutalized them just as he brutalized the fae. He abused them into submission eons ago, until the God of Light defeated him and freed the shadows. But then my father unleashed Euribios, and the shadows were forced to cower before his power once more.

“It’s not in the nature of shadows to be disloyal—even to terrible creatures—but they learned what it was like to exist outside of fear, and that is not something you can forget.”

What Des doesn’t add is that fear probably wasn’t the only factor that swayed these shadows. Desmond Flynn is beloved by the darkness.

“And so, with your help,” I say, “the shadows turned on their god.”

Des squeezes my hand, his eyes flashing in a very fae way.

“And so they did.”

After the Bargainerfinishes explaining himself, we continue heading back through the palace. My thoughts are spinning a mile a minute from all that Des has told me. Faked deaths, disloyal shadows, and the secrets that saved us all.

I only shake off these thoughts when the two of us enter the room I found Des in. The altar still rests where I last saw it, along with all those shelves of potions and medical instruments and books with gilded titles. On the floor are my discarded weapons and the shattered remains of the objects previously knocked from the shelves.

None of that, however, is what catches the Bargainer’s attention.

His gaze locks on the slumped form on the other end of the room. In an instant he disappears from my side, reappearing—wings and all—next to the body of Galleghar Nyx.

I pace over to my discarded weapons, fastening them back on before I dare to creep closer to Des and his father. Part of me is fearful that Galleghar is still alive. Evil fathers have a way of defying death. In fact, this whole situation has the ring of déjà vu to it, only my and Des’s roles are reversed.

The Bargainer kneels, his white blond hair skimming his jawline as he stares down at the man who gave him life and death in equal measure.

“Is he dead?” I ask.

“Quite.” Des’s gaze travels over him.

The Bargainer’s hand touches one of his father’s chest wounds. He studies Galleghar’s injuries for a long time before he finally glances up. “He was right to fear you. You did kill him in the end.”

“That was the Thief.”

“You killed the Thief, and with the Thief’s death, the bond they shared broke. The Thief could no longer keep Galleghar’s death at bay.”

Birds, meet stone.

There are still so many questions I have—like why Euribios woke Galleghar when he did, and why the old god decided to uphold his end of their bargain when he so obviously could’ve broken his oath—but I fear I won’t get answers.

As we stare down at Des’s dead father, a spectral hand separates itself from Galleghar’s body, then an arm.

Oh geez, I forgot where we were.