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I cup the mug of ale I purchased. “If company’s what you want, then you should’ve taken Kaelie up on her offer.”

He lets out a rough laugh. “Aye, if I took Kaelie up on her offer, I’d be scratching my balls for weeks and praying to ye old gods for deliverance.” He pushes the mug towards me a little more. “Drink up.”

My eyes flick to it, then him. I’m not a babe; I know enough about bargaining to know the moment I take a sip, I’ll be in this man’s debt.

I push the stein back towards him.

Leaning forward, he pushes it back. “I have a proposition,” he says.

“Now you’re propositioning me?” I ask, my brows nudging up again.

“Quick tongue on you,” Vale says. “That’s good—very good. Listen, I’ve seen your type, and I know wherever home is, you can’t go back to it.”

I tense a little, my mind replaying the last moments of my mother’s life. My gaze sharpens on Vale; I’m unnerved by how well he can read me.

“I know you need money,” he adds. “I want to help you.”

I slide my stein from one hand to the other, passing it back and forth across the gummy table. “No one wants to help me,” I say. “If you knew me better, you’d understand that.”

Vale looks around and clears his throat. “All right, smartarse, I’ll give it to you straight,” he says, lowering his voice, “I can get you a job—highly illegal—which involves moving goods. You’ll get paid well,” he says.

Finally, some truth.

“Are you interested?” he asks.

My hands still, my mug sliding to a halt. I stare down into my now empty drink, trying to divine my options. But I’m out of them. And if it breaks the Shadow King’s laws, I’m all for it.

I look up at Vale. “Maybe.”

254 years ago

Two hours laterVale leads me to a mansion down the street from the pub. The house is situated along the rim of the island, the back of it facing towards the empty night sky.

“We’re known around these parts as the Angels of Small Death—or the Brotherhood,” he explains to me. “We’re a band of men who can get the good people of the Night Kingdom certainamenitiesthey might not otherwise be able to come by. And this is our headquarters.” He gestures to the house ahead of us.

I stare up at the goliath home, its vine-covered walls towering above me, the balmy night air stirring the shallow pools of water and the fronded palms that lead up to it.

Vale has me lingering outside the mansion for longer than necessary, letting me absorb the impressive wealth around me. I glance at him, my face impassive. All those years of control my mother drilled into me are now coming in handy. Because I am impressed—impressed and out of my depth. I’m just a poor boy from Arestys, whose only exposure to the Otherworld was through my mother’s books. And up until a few days ago, I was a nobody.

Vale leads me into the house. Inside, the rooms are ostentatious. Every surface is covered in snowy, opalescent stone and carved into intricate designs. Near the ceiling, mini pinpricks of light twinkle from the darkness. Miniature clouds roll between them, passing by a small moon that’s nearly full. It’s obvious that the top of the room has been spelled to look like a dreamscape. This enchantment alone had to have cost a fortune.

As we snake our way through the house, we pass by several women clad in gold clothes and chains who silently recline on couches.

I come to a stop when I notice their ears.

Vale takes a few more steps before he realizes I’m not following.

I’m still staring at the women. Their eyes languidly move to me, but they don’t budge.

“They’re …”

“Human,” Vale finishes for me, coming to my side. I can feel his greedy eyes on me, sensing an opening. “Have you ever tried human flesh?” he asks.

Of course I haven’t. I’ve never evenseena human; I’ve only heard about them. In Arestys, everyone’s too poor to own slaves. But not in Barbos.

I was told that humans were coarse, ugly things, but these women don’t look all that different from fae women. They wear thick gold bands around their necks, their wrists, and ankles, the cuffs all linked together by thick, woven gold chains. I’d assumed the chains were fashionable adornments, but now I realize they’re actually shackles.

The women look how I’ve felt my entire life. But it’s more than what they wear. Their sad eyes pull at that grieving part of me. I understand their expressions, like they’ve lost something precious.