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I glance around, looking for servants, aides, nobles, soldiers—anyone—but we’re seemingly alone.

The group of us enter a grand ballroom, the air touched with the lingering smell of blood and burnt magic. I glance up just as a shadow leaps from the golden bannister high above us, swooping down in front of me and Des.

The fairy lands hard, a fist to the ground. The wings at his back are unfurled, his white feathers tinged with gold. He looks the angel to Des’s devil.

It’s only once he lifts his head that I realize I’m staring into the face of Janus Soleil, the King of Day.

His hair shimmers and his bright blue eyes shine like topaz. It would be easy to confuse the Day King for an angel. He is everything the paintings have made angels out to be.

His pointed ears be the only tell that he’s something else entirely. Well, that and the hard, cunning gleam in his eyes.

Janus doesn’t have blood on him, but I would stake money that he killed dozens of those burning soldiers.

The Day King’s expression eases. “Desmond Flynn, I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” His eyes move to me. “Callypso,” he says, his eyes guarded as he nods at me, “good to see you again.”

His cool reception reminds me that not so long ago I accused him of kidnapping me.

Janus had a twin, a twin who died. The first time you met him, you were really meeting me.

It was the Thief who’d captured me after all, the Thief who wore the face of Julios, when he snatched me from Des’s backyard.

The Green Man had been dead when the Thief wore his body. Julios had been dead when the Thief worehisbody. And that red-headed soldier, the one I interviewed, she had mentioned being lured away by her dead brother.

Holyshit.

I sway a little as a pattern begins to form.

“Callie.” Des’s voice cuts through the screaming in my head.

My eyes move to him.

“What is it?” he asks softly.

My eyes move from his to Janus’s. “The Thief of Souls can wear the faces of the dead.”

The three ofus find a secluded place to talk—correction, more secluded. Honestly, the whole thing seems unnecessary. There’s no one left in the palace to eavesdrop.

We don’t end up striking a conversation again until we’re securely in the Day King’s private quarters. By then Janus’s wings are put away, but his fierce expression remains.

As for what he or Des think about my little revelation, it’s hard to say. Neither of themlookssurprised, but then again, fairies seem to have really good poker faces. But if I assumed we were going to talk about it in private, then I assumed wrong. Neither king broaches the subject again.

I mean, I know I’m no Sherlock Holmes (don’t tell my clients that), but this is something, right? Right?

Janus ushers us to a cluster of chairs. Resting between the seats is a small table with a decanter and a set of glasses.

Well, at least there’s booze. I could use some booze.

I take a seat, my attention drifting to a vivid mural on the wall to my left. Half of the image is painted in gold, the other in black. On one side is a golden man, rays of light emanating from his body; he holds his kneeling enemy by the throat. The captured man wears shackles on his wrists and ankles, and everything beyond him is painted in the inkiest of blacks.

“Do you like it?” Janus asks, sitting down across from me. He reaches for the decanter between us, pouring the liquid into three glasses.

I stare at the mural. What am I supposed to say? That the painting is just something to look at? That the most fascinating thing about it is the cute little loincloths each man wears?

That would go over super well.

“Uh, yeah,” I say.

“It’s called the Banishment of Euribios,” Janus says, handing me a glass filled with emerald liquid. He hands another to Des. “It depicts the fight between Brennus, the God of Light and Order, and Euribios the God of Darkness and Chaos.”