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“I told you repayment would be fun,” Des says, a smirk in his voice.

Ha!

“This is not really what I had in mind when I made that wish …”

“Consider this foreplay, baby siren.”

And still his magic tugs at me, getting more insistent with every passing second.

“Alright, but I want to ride piggyback,” I state.

“I didn’t realize that you called the terms of repayment,” he says smoothly, scooping me up. Now that I’m in his arms, the magic relaxes. “Of course, if you want to ride me from behind—” his tone is undeniably sexual, “I won’t protesttoomuch. Though it’s not my favorite position.”

God, he’s in rare form today.

He moves me to his back, and I wrap my arms around his neck, breathing in his smell as his hair tickles my cheek. His hands hook beneath my legs and he carries me down the winding stairway and deep into the ground.

The air down here is thick like molasses, heavy with protective wards meant to keep intruders out. It’s a shock to feel so much magic concentrated here when the land itself seems parched of it.

Des utters a phrase in Old Fae, and just like snapping one’s fingers, the magic parts, letting us through.

Ahead of us, mounted torches flare to life, illuminating a small chamber; the walls, ceiling and floor of it are nothing more than packed dirt. Right in the middle of the room, sitting on a natural bed of rock, is a roughhewn stone sarcophagus.

Maybe it’s the spells that still thicken the air, or maybe it’s the sight of the stone coffin, or maybe it’s simply the fact that this is the tomb of a man so evil the earth won’t corrupt his body, but a wave of vertigo washes through me. If it weren’t for Des’s hold on me, I would’ve slid off his back.

Gently, Des sets me down so he can lift his hand towards the sarcophagus. His magic briefly thickens the air, then stone grinds against stone as the lid begins to slide off the coffin.

An old, sour-tasting terror I used to feel whenever I thought about my father now rushes back. But it’s not my stepdad who’s frightening to me. It’s the possibility of what’s beneath that stone slab. A body that cannot decay, a man who’s back from the dead.

The lid comes off, hovering in the air before slowly lowering itself to the ground. It lands on the dirt with an echoing thump, dust billowing out around it.

From where I stand, I can’t see into the coffin. I creep forward, Des at my side.

I hear the Bargainer’s swift inhalation of breath, and then my eyes land on the inside of the coffin.

There’s no rotting corpse, nor is there a perfectly preserved body. There’s nothing here at all.

Galleghar Nyx might’ve once rested here, but he does no longer.

The sarcophagus is empty.

Chapter 9

I stare upat the stars, my body stretched out along the thin pallet resting on the dry earth. The night here in the Banished Lands is so clear the heavens sparkle above us.

Next to me, Des leans against a boulder, one of his knees bent in front of him, ruminating. He’s not angry or surprised, just … lost in his own mind.

In front of me, our fire crackles. Its flames flicker from rosy pink to pale green to lilac then buttery yellow, and the smoke that rises into the night sky is cast in dusty pastels. The whole thing is a kaleidoscope of color captured in heat and light, and it’s putting out a shit-ton of magic.

Why it looks like that is a secret Des hasn’t divulged—yet.

“How long do you think your father’s body has been missing?” I ask.

Des shakes his head. “No more than a decade or so.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I’ve checked many times over the two centuries since his death,” he explains. “I’ve been perversely curious whether the earth would one day accept him. I should’ve known some other sort of fuckery was afoot.”