The lot of soldiers turns, their movements robotic.

“Oh, one last thing—” I say to their backs, “you will not harm another fae. Ever.”

You know what the most annoying thing about these drop-ins is? There always has to be some long discussion following them. Everyone has to regroup and decide on a plan of action when there is really no way to plan for a man like the Thief of Souls. He doesn’t play by the book, it’s not clear what he wants, and there seems to be no orderly way for us to stop him.

But I sit through the meeting anyway, and listen to everyone rehash the last several hours all over again. Once the meeting is over, it’s clear that Des and Malaki have more to talk about, the two of them moving to a corner of the room, where they continue speaking in low voices.

I turn to Temper. “Down to raid the kitchen?”

Need a drink after that meeting.

“Do you really have to ask?”

Fifteen minutes later the two of us are sitting in some random hallway, munching on a tray of pastries and drinking fae spirits straight from the bottle.

“It’s been too long since we’ve done this,” I say,

It used to be a weekly thing. We’d go out, or we’d stay in, but it would always be together. Sleepovers, brunches, late night movie-nights, bar-hopping, clubbing—we were attached at the hip.

“You can say that again.” Temper sighs. “That alone is reason enough to kill the Thief of Souls. He’s messing with our routine.”

I take a big bite of a cheese-filled pastry, washing it down with a swig of fae wine.

I pull the bottle away and stare at it. “Ever notice that fairies make their liquor way too sweet?”

“Right?” Temper says. “Never thought I’d crave cheap Scotch so much in my life, but here we are.”

I turn to her. “Thanks for earlier—you know, with Malaki.”

“Anytime. You know how we roll.”

We’ve been each other’s wingwoman for as long as we can remember.

I set the bottle down and reach out, taking Temper’s hand. “God, I love you.”

“Are you drunk? You are such a lightweight.”

“Seriously, Temper?” That’s her response to me pledging my love to her? “You ingrate. I’m not drunk.”

She squeezes my hand. “Love you too, boo, even if you go to Earth and do body shots without me.”

“Hey, I invited you to the wedding.”

“Only ’cause you needed an ordained minister.”

She and I both know that’s not the only reason.

“How did you even manage to get ordained?” If anyone should’ve been rejected, it probably should have been Temper. I mean, I love my friend, but she’s not exactly a saint.

“Fuck if I know—the Internet is a magical thing.”

The two of us look at each other and burst into laughter.

It’s Temper’s turn to grab the wine bottle and throw it back. “You know, for all the battles being fought in the Otherworld, I’ve had hardly any chances to zap someone.”

My mood darkens as my thoughts return to the Thief. “I’m sure your day will come.”

“Oh, I know it will. That’s why I’ve been hanging around this place. Love me a good fight.”

I give her a look.

“What?” Temper asks accusingly.

“You are such a ballsy liar.”

She sucks in a breath. “Who are you calling—?”

“You’re not here for some fight,” I say, talking over her. “You’re not even here because I am, though I know you love me. You’re here because you like shacking up with Malaki,” I say, cutting her off.

For a moment, Temper doesn’t respond, regrouping to gather her thoughts.

“I’m here because I want a fight,” she finally says, “and my best friend happens to be a queen. Malaki is a perk of the situation.”

Yeah, I’m not buying it.

“I’m going to hex that look off your face.”

“I’ll stop you first,” I say, my skin brightening.

“Nice try,” Temper says. “Your glamour no longer works on humans.” She sounds so certain of that fact, like she knows the effects of the lilac wine better than I do.

“Does it now?” I say, letting my magic fill my voice.

Temper’s gaze briefly goes hazy before it clears.

“Oh, you bad bitch,” she says, starting to chuckle. She takes another drink of the wine, shaking her head. “You can glamour humans and fairies?”

I lift a shoulder. “Seems that way.”

Only the Thief appears to be immune to my charms, which is unfortunate, considering he’s the one I’ll probably need to use them on.

“Lady, you better watch your back,” I say. “Malaki gets that possessive look when he sees you,” I say.

And he’s annoyingly bossy, I’ve come to find.

Temper fans herself. “I know, isn’t it fucking hot?”

Uh, that’s one way of looking at it.

“Temper, he’s Des’s best friend. If you break his heart, shit is going to get awkward.” I mean, I got a taste of Malaki when he’s peeved; forgive me if I don’t want to see what he’s like when he’s heartbroken.

“Bitch, who said anything about me breaking his heart? I’m more interested in breaking his bed.”

She’s not considering breaking up with him? This far into a fling Temper is always considering breaking things off.

I turn to give her my full attention. “What is going on between you two?”

She waggles her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I laugh. “Oh my God, don’t hold out on me now.”

“You don’t want me to hold out on you? You’re the one who’s more secretive than your husband lately—and ugh, can we talk about the fact that you’re married now? You’re all domestic and old.”

“I’m not old. And stop changing the subject,” I say. Gah, she’s hard to pin down when she wants to be.

“How about we talk about the fact that the Thief of Souls wants to bone you?”

“Let’s not.” I can feel a shudder coming on.

“I mean, you could just give in and knock boots with the baddie.”

“Temper.” Seriously?

“Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “That’s too evil.”

“Also, I’m married—and mated—and in love,” I say slowly. “Let’s not forget that either.”

“Right, right, right.” She takes another swig of the fae wine. A laugh slips out of her, and that’s about when I realize she’s teasing me.

I release my breath. “You’re the worst.”

“Suck it, Lillis. I’m the best and everyone knows it.”

The air wavers in front of us, and then Des is there, an eyebrow raised as he stares down at us. “So this is why there’s a pastry shortage in the kitchen.”

I inconspicuously dust crumbs off my chest. Temper, meanwhile, licks her fingers.

“Not my fault your kitchen’s understocked,” she says, the sass thick in her throat.

Des’s eyes flick to her. “Malaki is looking for you.”

“Is he now?” Temper says, her interest piqued. She gets up, grabbing the tray of pastries, the bottle of wine still in her clutches. “Then I better go find him … Peace out, Callie.” She salutes me with the peace sign, then heads off down the hall, her heels clicking.