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The other pixie, meanwhile, is still arguing with Des. Eventually, she simply grabs Des’s pointer finger and tugs, trying to rally him into action. It’s an adorably pitiful sight. I’m pretty sure my mate shares the sentiment because the corner of his mouth lifts.

“Where does she want us to go?”

“To Memnos to slaughter the hateful tyrant Galleghar Nyx, but short of that, Malaki has requested our presence in Barbos.”

I really am tired, both from healing my wounds and from the long days we’ve endured, and I’ve been dreaming of Des’s bed for ages and ages. But there are two psychotic fae on the loose, and the sooner we deal with them, the sooner Des and I can get on with our lives.

I stand, causing the pixies hanging onto me to squeal. “Then let’s go.”

Des stares up at me, unconcerned that a pixie is still pulling at his finger. “Cherub, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest eventually.”

The Bargainer’s eyes narrow. He stands, his chair scraping back. He steps in close, his large frame filling my vision. “You don’t want to go to Barbos,” he says. “You want a break from this madness, and I want to give that to you.” His eyes have gone soft. They search my face, like my unspoken thoughts are written there.

“Des, if we wait, your father might slip away. Iamtired, but I’ll rest soon enough.” I take Des’s hand in my bandaged ones. “If we catch your father, he might be able to tell us where the Thief of Souls is.”

A muscle in the Night King’s jaw ticks.So tempting, his features seem to say. He glances away from me.

I give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s end this.”

His hand has started to tremble again. All that pent up rage is fighting for release, and Des is a dark enough creature that he can’t deny it forever. Better to use it on his father.

Finally, he closes his eyes and nods. “We’ll go to Barbos. And we’ll deal with Galleghar Nyx.”

Des and Isoar through the clouds, the stars twinkling down on us.

God, have I missed this. There’s no other sensation quite like flying.

The pixies spin around us, laughing as they ride on the wind. Des and I are a touch more somber, the two of us outfitted for battle.

These are, after all, violent times.

I ignore the exhaustion creeping through my bones; I’m pretty sure that, like a noob, I spent too much energy trying to heal my burns, and now I’m paying the piper for it.

Can’t believe how much energy that took. I’ve never actually experienced a deficit of magic. Ever. Yet healing two small burns has nearly tapped me of it.

No wonder iron is so hated and feared among the fae. It’s painful and magically draining.

My heart bleeds all over again for those soldiers Karnon kept prisoner; they were shackled in the stuff.

Seriously though,fuckthe Thief and all his sick deeds.

I can almost hear his laughter in my head.

This is our little game …

Only he would think of all these depravities as some sort of game.

The longer I think on it, the more my mind twists and turns, leading me back to that last strange dream.

Does the term small death mean anything to you?he asked me. It was the one question that seemed to be more than just posturing and scare tactics.

And of course, now that I’m level-headed, the termdoesmean something to me. I’ve heard it all over the place. Somnia is the Land of Sleep and Small Death, Des used to be a member of the Angels of Small Death. And in another dream back in the Flora Kingdom, Galleghar Nyx had mentioned small death.

Now that I look for it, it’s everywhere.

I move in close to Des.