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Typhus grimaces in his seat, his body slightly contorted. It takes a moment for me to realize that’s because the Bargainer’s magic has him pinned in place. Around us, the fairies crowding the room seem to be held back by invisible hands.

For the first time since exiting Galleghar Nyx’s tomb, the air is thick with power. It slips over my arms and curls around my ankles, caressing my skin. But unlike the magic in Galleghar’s tomb, Des’s power is familiar and inviting; it drapes itself over me like a shawl.

Des closes in on the dais, each careful step echoing across the quiet room. He’s struck us all dumb.

“There’s a grave in the southwestern territory of the Banished Lands,” he says, his gaze trained on Typhus. “It’s marked by several large boulders. The body inside it was impervious to damage. And now, it’s missing. I want to know how that came to be.”

Typhus narrows his eyes, a calculative gleam in them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, his words ringing false.

I fibbed better when I was in diapers.

“But even if I did,” he continues, “why should I tell you? You don’t recognize my rule.”

Des studies the fairy, his head cocked to the side.

My body tenses, expecting some reaction with a good dose of panache.

But that’s not what I get.

Des’s expression becomes almost contemplative. He nods, like Typhus didn’t just feed him a load of horseshit.

Around the room, the Bargainer’s magic lifts, and the air tastes parched once more. Cautiously, fairies begin to get to their feet.

Typhus doesn’t move, instead pretending that he deliberately chose to sit like a folded up Pretzel.

“There is one other matter I must attend to before we head back to my kingdom,” the Bargainer says, waiting until he’s sure he has the room’s undivided attention. “You know as well as I do that I can’t leave here with you as you are,” Des says. “So either you give them,” He jerks his head to the desperate hordes that bracket us in, “back their magic,or I’ll do it for you.”

I’m thinking thatI’ll do it for youinvolves sharp weapons and a dead body.

Typhus rises from his throne, his face darkening and his hands trembling with his rising anger.

The scent of the banished king’s borrowed magic saturates the air; it smells just how you’d imagine it would—like that time you idiotically sampled too many perfumes on yourself and now all those strong, potent smells are clashing and giving you a mother of a headache.

“Kill him where he stands!” It’s an open order, and I’m pretty sure this idiot expects all of the fairies in this room to answer to it.

“No.”

I feel the power of that one word ripple through the enclosed space. But it’s not Des who says it.

I step away from the Bargainer, my skin illuminating.

I’ve had enough of this place, where the air itself feels like it’s trying to squeeze your magic out of you, and I’ve had enough of this man, who for all his years of life, has learned nothing except how to be a brutish A-hole.

In response to my magic, the crowd around us begins to press in, none so close as our guards. As soon as their eyes fall on me, they forget they are self-respecting fairies who have duties. They move towards me, ready to touch my skin, stroke my hair, drink me up and consume me whole. It’s the way it always has been, only here, in this magicless place, my glamour is all the more alluring.

“Get out of my way,” I order, my power filling my voice.

The fairies do as I say—albeit, a little reluctantly.

“What are you fools doing?” this king shouts at them, despite the fact that he can’t rip his gaze off of me.

“Shut up,” I order.

His mouth clicks closed.

The sheer outrage on his face! I savor every last drop of it.

“No one move—except to breathe,” I order, my voice echoing in the cavern. “Oh, and Des, ignore my commands. You can do whatever you want.”