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She’s so still, so serene, and yet a part of me expects her to open her eyes, and use that sword to break free of the coffin.

The vision is so realistic that I force myself to move on to another, before I chicken out and leave prematurely.

This one has hair that looks like spun silver and it’s bluntly cropped just past her chin. Despite her silver hair, she looks young, her smooth skin taut over her high cheekbones and square jaw. This woman is all soldier; even at rest I can tell her personality is all hard edges. But not even that saved her. Clutched beneath her hands is a bow, and next to her feet is a quiver filled with arrows.

Another warrior. But notjusta warrior. This one has a silver band on her upper arm. Amedaledwarrior.

I begin to wind my way through the coffins. All the women wear the same black attire, and each carry a weapon. Warriors who are now victims.

The whole thing is putting me on edge. Some of the strongest women in Des’s kingdom lie inside these coffins. How did this happen to so many who were so capable?

And if this monster could do this to these women, what could he do to an average person? What could he do to me?

I begin to hum to alleviate my growing anxiety.

I touch a casket here and there, noticing that the glass feels warm.

My skin prickles. This situation is … isunnatural—wrong at its most basic level.

Without thinking, my humming shifts to singing.

Wake from your slumber,

Rise from your sleep,

Tell me your secrets,

They’re mine to keep.

The siren in me likes to string together rhymes, much the same way a witch does spells. I’m sure it has something to do with how effective my glamour is, but to my ears it’s simply pleasing.

Open your eyes,

Breathe in the fresh air,

Tell me your secrets,

They’re ours to share.

I throw a glance over my shoulder at Des. Arms folded, feet planted apart, and wings out—he looks like he’s channeling something between rock star and fallen angel. The leather pants and the sleeve of tats don’t help. His eyes move over the coffins, almost as if he expects someone to move …

I follow his gaze, instantly tense, but nope, the women are as still as they were when I walked in.

Turning my body back towards the rows of women, I resume my song.

Rouse from your rest,

Shake off this dark spell,

Open your mouth,

You have secrets to tell.

I knew before walking in here that my glamour couldn’t rouse these women. They were all fairies. And yet, I still hold out an inkling of hope that I can help them.

A minute goes by, then another. I wait for any sign of life, but no one moves. And now I feel silly. Singing to a room full of fae that haven’t stirred since they were brought here.

I begin walking back to the Bargainer, my footsteps echoing.