“Soldiers, stop!” I shout, pushing as much glamour into those two words.

The sleeping soldiers should stop, but they don’t. Instead they continue charging forward.

The hell?

Five of them close in on me at once, and I barely have time to grab my daggers before I start blocking blows.

I don’t understand.

That thought runs on repeat in my head as I fight my assailants. I duck as a double-sided axe swings over my head, then strike out with my daggers.

I should’ve been able to glamour them all.

“Freeze, soldiers,” I say again.

“I’m afraid they can’t follow your commands,” one of the soldiers says. But it’s the Thief who’s speaking. “They’ve been warded against your glamour,” he says.

Warded against it? I go cold all over. Any advantage I thought I had is gone.

And here I thought that perhaps we’d be able to pull this ambush off. But they’d been ready with their own magic—magic that stripped us of our enchantments and made them impervious to my power.

I hear the rip of fabric at my back and feel the sickening sensation of a blade sinking into skin. I feel the cascade of blood spill from the wound before the pain sets in.

When it does set in, however—Jesus—it stings like a bitch.

Before I can retaliate, another blow follows the first, slicing my arm open.

I stagger forward, right into a soldier covered in dried blood and unnamable bits, my wings manifesting in response to the pain and adrenaline.

Warm blood drips from my arm and my back. And still the attack keeps coming. It’s all I can do to parry most of the blows. Des might’ve trained me on how to fight, but I’m no match against five fae soldiers.

“Callypso!” Des roars.

Suddenly, he’s at my side, cleaving through sleeping soldiers. But then his father uses the distraction to appear in front of me, weapon raised.

“You will not be my downfall, slave,” he vows.

I don’t even try glamouring Galleghar. Instead, I do what any sane woman might—I kick that fucker in the balls.

Hard.

The reaction is immediate. He doubles over, a choked, hissing noise coming from between his teeth.

That’s all I see before the sleeping soldiers close in on me again despite Des’s best efforts. Blood is spraying around my mate as he carves through them, but there’s always more to fight, and none of them play fair.

“Thief!” Des bellows. “You and I had an understanding!”

An understanding?

The soldiers encircling me suddenly stop fighting, falling at ease.

“So we did,” one of them says.

I stare around at them. Among the group, Des’s dad begins to straighten. Beyond us, the other sleeping soldiers are still locked in battle, unaware that the fighting in this pocket of the room has stopped.

That thought has no sooner crossed my mind than Galleghar disappears, materializing once again in front of me, sword aimed. Before he can land a blow, a hand grabs his wrist, and twists, forcing Des’s father to relinquish the blade.

I follow the hand back to its owner, shocked to see it belong to a soldier.

“What are you doing?” Galleghar cries.

An instant later, Des flickers into existence at his back, locking him in a chokehold. “Awww, did you think you were the only one who made deals with this monster?”

My blood goes cold.

Des, what have you done?

Galleghar’s face twists into a grimace, and then he disappears, Des vanishing a split second after him. The two flash across the room, popping in and out of existence like fireworks.

I can smell blood and dark magic filling the air as the battle wages on.

Temper’s hair is beginning to levitate with her power, and she wears a wild grin as she fights her opponents. Malaki and Janus battle both in the sky and on the ground, using their wings to gain some advantage. The casket children have their fangs bared, their mouths bloody, and many of the sleeping soldiers have bloodstained blades.

It’s not going to be a clean win for either side.

And then there’s me, surrounded by a swath of sleeping soldiers who are now docile.

I glance around at them, pointing my dagger. “Why won’t you fight?” I ask, blood dripping from my wrist as I speak.

“I told already,” one of them says, “your mate keeps many secrets.”

I spin around, looking at each aggressor. From behind their eyes, the Thief of Souls smirks at me.

You and I had an understanding, the Bargainer had said.

“What’s the understanding you and Desmond have?” I ask, leveling the dagger at one of the soldiers’ throats.

“Really now, are you going to stab me with that?” the Thief asks, smirking at the blade.

Maybe. I don’t know. The threat is so obviously useless on him.

“What is the understanding?” I repeat.

Around us, screams echo through the room, accompanied by the wet sound of metal cleaving flesh. The air mists with blood. I can taste the barest tang of it on my lips.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The Thief and his games. I decided a while ago that I’d had enough of them.

I begin to push past the soldiers. If they won’t fight me, I’ll go help one of my comrades who is facing overwhelming odds. But as soon as I try to push my way through the crowd of them, they close off my exit.

“Get out of my way,” I say, my skin brightening.

But they stand resolute.

I want to scream. Every moment that passes, my friends grow tired and more injured.

“I let my baser nature get the better of me, but your mate is right. I want to leave you whole and untouched—” a soldiers says at my back, “—for now.”

I turn to the fairy who spoke. She has long, wheat blonde hair that’s been plaited away from her angelic face. In her hand she holds a sickle sword.

Walking up to the soldier, I clasp her cheeks, looking deep into her seafoam eyes. The soldier remains still, the Thief’s gaze lit with interest. I glance down at the woman’s lips. “It’s not my mind you want to touch, is it, Thief?”

The soldier studies me before lowering her eyes to my lips.

“You want what you got only a taste of in Karnon’s prison,” I say.

Back then all he did was kiss me. He hadn’t done more.

I feel the hot rush of my power.

Kiss him. Kill him. Take it all at once.

I lean in, my lips so close to the soldier’s, my hands sliding up her cheeks. My fingertips brush that plaited hair of hers—

We will drag him under and make him give us everything.

That quicksilver gaze lingers on me for a second or two.

“Look up at your mate,” he says out of nowhere.

I frown. All my tightly coiled power is dissipating.

Not how this is supposed to be playing out.

“Why?” I say, my gaze unwavering.

“I want to make sure you’re watching.”

I can feel a humming along my skin. Magic—dark, oily magic—begins to vibrate around me. It separates itself from the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, thickening in the air.

Around me, the other fairies are beginning to look around in confusion.

I narrow my eyes at the Thief, even as the magic begins to congeal into twisting clouds of smoke.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Look up.”

My eyes linger on the Thief for a long moment, but eventually I do look up, my eyes drawn to my mate.

I gasp at the sight.