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What is there to say? That he’s sorry? In this, he’s not at fault. Love isn’t something you can fake. And while Des has been affectionate with me, kind to me, and physical with me, he hasn’t mentioned anything about love.

I’m the one that can’t smother these feelings that have been festering inside me for years.

The Bargainer takes me down flight after flight of stairs, deep down into the bowels of his castle, until we arrive at a balcony that must be located on one of the lowest levels of the palace. Beyond it the land drops away and the buildings are terraced one on top of the other, all the way down into the darkness.

We approach the edge of the railing, brisk night air whipping my hair.

I lean over it. “Where to now?”

Des’s arms wrap roughly around my waist.

“What—” I barely have time to stare at the bands of muscle that grip me and his intricate sleeve of tattoos before he leaps into the air, his claw-tipped wings unfurling.

I yelp as my body jerks up with him.

I should’ve known as soon as I saw the balcony that we were flying somewhere.

Only, Des has stopped flapping his wings. That’s about the moment I realize that we’re not flying up. We’rediving.

Nothing can describe the sheer terror of falling into an abyss headfirst. The wind thrashes my hair about my face and steals away my breath as we plummet. A dizzying number of balconies and gardens blow by us, terraced along the inner rock walls of this strange island. The whole thing looks like a doll house. I see cross sections of homes and shops, temples and gardens. And as we dive, each level gets dimmer and dimmer.

We continue down, until the buildings are cloaked in darkness. Down here it feels less like the city of night and more like a void.

Our descent slows, and the Bargainer’s great wings unfurl above me as he angles us towards an unassuming balcony almost at the bottom of the chasm. The buildings around us are less adorned than the ones above, and the thorn-covered vines that snake around the railings and column-lined porticos appear almost sinister.

As soon as we land, my body sways in his arms from the rush of blood.

His grip on me tightens when I try to pull away. “Give yourself a moment, Callie,” he says, his voice low.

I do, not entirely minding his embrace.

Once Des senses that I’ve stopped swaying, he releases me.

I glance around what must be one of the lowest levels of the city. It’s cold here, colder than the open air above. “What is this place?”

“Welcome to the capital’s industrial district, where Somnia’s exports leaves and its imports arrive.”

So people don’t live here per se. That’s a relief. Compared to the rest of the city, this area is kind of a bummer. I mean, it’s beautiful, in a creepy way, but it isn’t a place I would want to linger.

I glance towards the simple wooden door that leads inside from our balcony. Unease stirs low in my belly. I can’t detect magic the same way a fae might, yet even I don’t want to walk through that door, though I’m sure that’s precisely what we’re going to do.

Not a moment later my suspicions are proven correct when Des steers me towards the door.

“This used to be a storage facility,” he explains, “just like the rest of the buildings in this area. It was converted to a temporary shelter for the sleeping when we ran out of space …”

Ahead of us, the door creaks open, and the two of us step into a cavernous, windowless warehouse.

The Bargainer nods to a guard on the far side of the room who appears to be keeping vigil.

Without a word, the guard exits a far door, giving us privacy.

I glance around. Like many of the rooms in the palace, someone’s used magic to depict the night sky on the ceiling. Tiny starbursts of light shine softly from scones set into the wall, but they do very little to ease away the darkness that gathers in this room.

That’s all I notice of the warehouse itself because—

All of those coffins.

There are hundredsof them—maybe thousands. Rows and rows of glass caskets. My eyes sweep over them.