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The Bargainer’s hands slip farther down my body, and his magic peels away the last of my clothes, and the last of his.

“Let me take care of you, cherub,” he says from behind me.

For the life of me, I don’t honestly know what he means by that. He’s taken care of me every single day he’s been in my life. But I nod anyway because being taken care of sounds really, really nice right now.

Without another word, the Bargainer scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom.

The tub is already filled to the rim with water. Scattered around it are lamps that flicker with starbursts of light. A balmy night breeze flutters in through the arched windows.

Des walks the two of us into the tub, sitting us down in the warm bathwater. I swallow as the liquid turns pink. All the while the King of Night holds me close, cupping my head against his chest.

I don’t know why, but this is the moment all my courage and bravado falls away. So many people died tonight, all of them victims in one way or another. Some of them I killed myself. The proof of it is discoloring the bathwater.

The Night King must sense my shifting mood because he says, “It’s alright, Callie. It’s alright. We’re just going to rinse off the blood and dirt.”

I close my eyes and my shoulders begin to shake and it’s stupid, stupid, stupid, but I begin to cry against him.

I feel sixteen all over again. Sixteen and broken and desperate for the Bargainer to fix me, even though that was never his job to begin with. But hedidfix me; he picked up each broken piece of me and put me back together and he loved my cracks in a way that only he could.

And then seven years passed and I grew up. I believed that all those fragile parts of me were gone, but here we are again, me with blood on my hands and thoughts of dead fae and that fucking Thief all filling my head.

I lean my forehead against Des’s chest and silently cry against him. He doesn’t need a confession from me to know what’s wormed its way under my skin. He cradles the back of my head and holds me to him. I sit there in his arms, keeping my eyes closed so that I can’t see the discolored water. Des begins to hum.

I pause for just a moment, recognizing the melody. He used to sing the same song under his breath back in my dorm room. At the sound, my sobs quiet. Because Des is here, comforting me as he used to, and even as I mourn the evening’s horrors, I savor this.

He holds me a little longer, and then he grabs a washcloth and begins to scrub my skin, raking the cloth up and down my back, then moving to my arms. He carefully runs it down my wrist and over each finger of mine, all the while humming that same song.

I take in a shuddering breath and watch his ministrations.

“You don’t have to clean—”

“Cherub.” With one word he stops my weak protest in its tracks.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as my breath evens, the only sound the slight splash of water as Des scours my body.

“This is …” Des begins, then starts again. “In my imaginings, we did this. I scrubbed the world’s filth off of you, until you were just you in my arms.”

“Stop,” I say, my voice breaking. I had almost put myself back together, but Des’s words are going to pull me apart again.

The washcloth gets to my face, and he tilts my chin up. “You saved my people tonight, Callie. Yousavedthem. Who knows how many more would have died if you hadn’t been there.”

I stare into his moonlit eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful or fearsome than you beguiling those fae. You are a force of nature.”

I swallow. “You’re no longer immune to it.”

I’d seen firsthand what my glamour could now do to Des.

“I’m delightfully terrified of the prospect. Our sex life has just gotten ten times kinkier.”

He has no idea.

I glance at the water. I don’t know what magic the Bargainer is dealing out, but the bath’s water is now crystal clear. Whatever blood once sullied it is no longer visible.

Des sets the washcloth aside and brushes his thumb along my lower lip. “Give me a wish,” he says, out of the blue.

“Why?” I ask.