Page 110

Only, now I’m beginning to fixate on this morning too. With every heated look he gives me and every silent promise in his eyes that he’s going to finish what I’ve started.

The fae king is hungry, and he’s used to getting what he wants.

I try to focus on the task at hand—visiting the sleeping warriors—but it’s no use. I’m more aware of the Bargainer than ever.

We break through the cloud cover, and once again I catch sight of that magnificent city of his.

“What’s it called?” I ask, nodding to the Bargainer’s floating city.

“Somnia,” he replies, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “The land of sleep and small death. The capitol of my kingdom.”

The land of sleep and small death. That sounds dark and magical … which is Des in a nutshell.

He banks sharply to the left, circling the city as we begin to descend. People creep out onto their terraces and into the streets to watch us land. More gather outside the gates in front of the castle.

“The next biggest city,” the Bargainer continues, “is Barbos, then it’s Lephys, then Phyllia and Memnos—sister cities connected by a bridge. Arestys is the smallest, poorest …” His expression darkens.

“Are they all floating cities?” I ask.

“They are.”

“I want to see them.”

What am I saying? Surely that didn’t come from my mouth? The last thing I want to do is spend more time in the Otherworld.

Des looks down at me.

“… Starting with Arestys,” I add breathlessly.

Seriously, Callie, you crazy bitch, stop talking.

But Ican’t, not when he’s looking at me like that.

“Then I’ll take you to them all,” he says, his silver eyes shining like he can’t get enough of my words.

I might as well have hammered the last nail in my coffin myself.

Just had to open your mouth …

Des soars over the front of the castle, and unlike the grand entrance we made last time, the two of us land softly on one of the palace’s back terraces.

He eases me to my feet before his wings disappear.

“No fancy entrance this time?” I ask.

“Tonight I didn’t want to share you.” His wings shimmer out of existence as he speaks.

Just as his wings disappear, his simple bronze circlet materializes. Under the black T-shirt he wears, I see the lowest of the three bronze war bands appear as well.

I smile at the sight of him, my crooked king, with his frayed shirt and simple crown. Right now he looks neither fae nor human. He looks like something better than either.

Casually, he takes my hand and leads me inside the palace. We head down a wide hallway and through a room full of swords and scepters on display.

The fae we pass don’t spare a glance at Des’s attire, though they themselves wear embroidered dresses and tunics and suits with fancy buttons and beadwork.

What his subjects do stare at isme. Me and my hand, clasped in the king’s. When I catch them looking, they bow low, murmuringYour Majestyto us as we pass.

I’m antsy to remove my hand, if only to stop them from staring. Des, meanwhile, is unfazed by any of it.