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I release my magic, letting it retreat back to my core. The worst of my injuries have healed, but my palm is still red and angry.

My gaze moves from my hand to the Bargainer. His wings are now hidden, and the shadows that cloaked the room have lifted. I glance around, surprised to see that we’re sitting on a veranda of sorts, a room that’s not quite inside and not quite out. A row of enormous archways look out over the city of Somnia.

Des takes my hand once more. “You did good there, cherub,” he says, beginning to re-bandage it. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

The Bargainer nods, wrapping the linen before tying it off. He brings my fingers to his lips, kissing the tip of each one. “Then we best get you to bed.”

If the look in his eye is anything to go by, I’m not going to be doing much sleeping.

Before I have a chance to drag him out of there so that he can properlytuck me in, chittering sounds come from beyond the archways.

The pleasant night air blows in through them, and riding on the draft of wind are several pixies, all of them chattering away. They zip across the veranda on the gust of air, only stopping when they get to me and Des. One of them hovers right in front of Des. The others end up sitting on his shoulders … and mine, like they have front row seats to a show.

“Evening, Aura,” he says to the little fae.

She says something back to him, her voice high and sweet.

“Is that right?” Des says, his eyes narrowing. “Where is he?”

Aura chatters away, gesturing wildly.

The Bargainer looks at me. “Temper and Malaki have found out where Galleghar is hiding.”

Chapter 19

I lean forward, even as the pixies on my shoulders begin playing in my hair. (Seriously, what is with these creatures and my hair?)

“Where is he?”

The Night King’s face is menacing. “Memnos.” He says the word like it tastes bad coming out.

Memnos, the one island Des never took me to. The Land of Nightmares.

“Wait,” I say, glancing at the pixie. “How does Aura—” She curtsies at the mention of her name, and I nod to her. “How does Aura know this?”

The little pixies all begin chattering at once.

“Pixies are my royal messengers,” Des says.

One of the pixies playing in my hair stops and says something else, her little voice demanding.

The Bargainer raises his eyebrows. “Forgive me—pixies are royal messengersandspies.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That sounds like an important job.”

My words must’ve been the right ones because the pixies start to excitedly chitter. One of them flits in front of my face and studies my features before lovingly patting my cheek.

Another one starts speaking animatedly to Des.

“I’m not going to go to MemnosorBarbos right now. You can tell Malaki he’ll just have to wait.”

Angry chittering.

“My mate is tired.”

Another pixie comes over and begins to inspect my eyes, as though looking for signs of my sleepiness.