“Pfft.” I swim over to him. “You should come in. The water’s nice. I’m even nicer.” I say, grabbing his hand and tugging.
“You know, you’re unbearably adorable, cherub.”
Awwww.
He smiles at me.
I think he can still hear my thoughts.
“I can.”
When the Bargainer doesn’t slide into the water, I release his hand and sink back beneath the pool’s surface. If he’s content to just watch me swim, then that works too.
Oh, and neat trick—if I’m underwater, I can’t blabber every single thought that crosses my mind. In fact, I’m pretty content to just lie here, at the very bottom of the pool, until the end of time. It’s a better alternative than the scorching midday heat that I can’t otherwise seem to escape.
After a minute or so, I rise to the surface once more.
“How long are we supposed to be here?” I ask.
It’s already evening, but just as night never lifts from Des’s kingdom, the sun never sets in the Day Kingdom.
“Ready to leave so soon?”
Does he sound pleased about that?
I nod.
“We’ll leave tomorrow morning, right after I meet with Janus.”
So, essentially, we’ll leave three days from now, once the meeting ends.
He leans in closer. “Have I mentioned that I like your sassy mouth?”
I swim over to him, folding my arms over the edge of the pool. I lean my cheek against them. The cold water is clearing my thoughts a bit.
“You know a lot of secrets,” I say, looking up at him.
The corner of the Bargainer’s mouth curves up. “I do.”
“But you don’t know anything about the Thief of Souls.”
“I know some things,” Des says, a pinch defensively.
“Not that many.”
He presses his lips together, like he’s stopping himself from arguing further. Instead he rolls up his shirtsleeves, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of his tattoos.
Seriously, how is this guy not taking a bath in his own sweat?
“I don’t get it—how can you know so much about everything except for the mystery surrounding the Thief of Souls?” I ask.
Des glances down at my folded arms. Reaching out, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin. “In order to answer that question, I’d have to tell you how I know so many secrets in the first place.”
My brows furrow. “You bargain for them.”
“Not … exactly,” Des says evasively.
But I thought that was how he’d built a name for himself.
“I built a name for myself through my deals and my brutality.”
Right. That too.
He continues to stroke the skin of my arm.
He’s not going to tell me.
Des’s fingers stop. He takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you—I want to tell you. It’s just …”
His eyes flick to mine. “The shadows speak to me.”
I give him an incredulous look.
The shadows … can talk?
And Des can hear them?
“Seriously?”
He taps my skin. “Mhm.”
Mind is officially blown.
I mean, I knew fairies could spin cloth out of moonlight, and wear stars in their hair, so this is technically nothing crazier than what I’ve already seen for myself, but still.
“That is so fucking cool.”
A laugh slips out of Des and his shoulders relax. Apparently he was nervous about telling me.
“Cherub, I’m never nervous.”
Okay, this freaking liquor is really starting to piss me off.
Hate being this transparent.
“Tell me more,” I say.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything! I just learned that shadows talk! That’s so creepy-slash-awesome. What do they sound like? Does my shadow talk? Does yours? What do they say? Do they have personalities? I could keep going.”
Des moves a wet strand of hair from my eyes. “They sound about how you’d imagine shadows to sound—like whispers—though their voices vary just like human and fae voices do. Your shadow talks. Mine, not so much. They don’t really have distinct personalities, but they do have moods. And they say all sorts of things, provided they want to talk to you.”
“Wow,” I say.
I still can’t get over the fact that my shadow has talked to Des.
“She’s told me a lot over the years.”
Oh man. Not sure that’s a good thing.
“So, shadows have genders?”
Des looks painfully reluctant to talk about this. “It depends. Technically, they don’t; they’re just shadows, but some have more feminine or masculine voices.”
Huh.
“Can anyone else hear them?” I ask.
He shifts a little. “Not that I’m aware of.”
The Bargainer looks nervous again.
“I’m not nervous.”
Oh, wait. I get it. Duh. “You know I don’t think you’re crazy, right?”
I mean, I guess normally when someone tells you they hear voices, that’s your cue to start edging away. But I’ve been around Des and the impossible world of fae for so long that learning this isn’t some outlandish revelation.
In fact, it explains a lot.
“Thank you, cherub,” he says quietly, taking my hand and threading his fingers between mine.
“What happens if the shadows don’t want to talk to you?”
“Then they don’t talk. But there are ways to cajole them. Sometimes, if I want to know something, I give them a little magic—just enough for them to hop away from their owners for an hour or two. They hate being dragged around.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this,” he says.
I can’t believe I got him to divulge his big bad secret.
“And what happens if you want them to shut up?”
“Same concept—a little magic for their silence.”
I glance around me. There aren’t many shadows in the Day Kingdom, but they do exist even here.
“Can you get them to talk right now?”
Des’s eyes seem to spark with interest. His focus turns to the pool.
After a moment, he says, “Janus’s father, Ignis, apparently used to hold orgies in this pool.”
“Eeeew.”
Des throws back his head and laughs. “Cherub, it’s been well over a century since that last happened.”
The sound of his laughter warms me from the inside out.
I tug on his hand again. “C’mon, let’s make these shadows whisper about something else.”
He stares at me for a beat. Right when I’m expecting him to shoot me down, his shoes slide off his feet, followed by his socks. He pivots where he sits, his legs swinging around so that he can dip his feet in the water.
I step up, in between those legs, and nip his chin, my hands sliding over his thighs.
More, more, more …
Des tilts his head downward. “Do you want to know a secret?”
“Hmm?”
He takes my lips in a kiss. “Sometimes I hold out on you simply because I enjoy driving you mad with need. It makes me feel less out of control in love with you.”
“That’s not nice.”
He laughs low. “Whoever said I was nice?”
With that, he slips into the water, plunging beneath the surface. When he rises again, his shirt is slicked to his skin, each fold of it lovingly molding to his chest.
There are no words. He took my breath away the first time I saw him, and it’s no different now. And he still has that devilish look to him—his features a little too sharp. He screams bad news. Which, of course, is like a rallying cry to my lady parts.
His silver eyes dance.
Still hearing every damn thought that crosses my mind.
“What are the shadows saying now?” I whisper.
Des closes in on me
. “They’ve gone quiet.”
“Even mine?”
He stops in front of me, an arm sliding around my waist. “Even yours.”
“The Thief of Souls?” I ask, as a thought comes to me. “What do the shadows say about him?”
Callie, the Killer of Moments, really is an apt title right about now.
The Bargainer’s good mood withers away. “The shadows won’t speak of him.”
“Not at all?”
Des frowns. “Not a single thing. Whoever the Thief is, he has either their allegiance … or their fear.”
Chapter 17
I wake on the ground, my eyes fluttering open.
“Ah, you’re awake. I thought you’d lay there all night.”
My claws lengthen reflexively at the sound of the Thief’s voice, my nails scraping against the stone beneath me.
I went to bed in the Day Kingdom, and I woke …
Here. Wherever here is.
I sit up slowly and gaze around.
The room is done in pale stone. Blood red vines snake up the walls, strange flowers blooming from them.
Across from me, is a pool of some sort, the water luminous. And to the left of it, the Thief reclines against a pillar.
A shudder courses through me.
“My, what a reaction.” His onyx eyes seem to glitter in this strange place. “I take it you missed me.”
“Where am I?” I ask, rising to my feet. I can’t tell whether I’m inside or outside. Behind me, the walls seem to give way to open air, and the night sky shines down.
But within the walls of this place, wall sconces burn, the sound of it muffled, like cloth snapping in the wind. And amongst it all, the Thief of Souls, his lips soft, his eyes cold, his attention fixed to me.
This is a dream. Just a dream. But if it’s a dream, and I know it’s a dream, then—
Wake up.
Wake. Up.
Nothing happens.
“Tell me, does the term small death mean anything to you?” the Thief asks from where he leans against that pillar.
It’s just a dream. It’s not real.
“No,” I say, distractedly.
It’s only after I answer, that I process his words.
Small death. That does sound familiar.
The Thief of Souls smiles. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you.”
“How did I get here?” I pinch the fabric of the white shift I wear. It’s all but translucent.
Not what I went to sleep in.
The Thief pushes off the pillar. “I called and you came.”
My brows knit.
His hair and eyes are so dark they seem to absorb the light; it’s a sharp contrast to his pale skin. He crosses the room, his steps echoing.
He’s not real. This is not real.
That’s the only thing that keeps me from running. I don’t need to be frightened of a phantasm. He can’t hurt me. Not here.
The Thief steps up to me. “You didn’t run.”
“You’re not real,” I say.
A slow, creepy smile spreads across his face. “Is that what you think? That I’m not real?” He searches my face. Whatever he sees there makes him laugh. “You don’t believe any of this is real, do you?”
The hairs on my forearms rise.
Just a dream, a really screwed up dream.
“If none of this is real, then I guess you and I are free to do whatever we please.”
He reaches out and runs a finger down the slope of my nose. “I could touch you. You could touch me—the Night King would never have to know. There are no repercussions for reveries, after all.”
I sidestep him. “If I touched you,” I say, my claws still out, “I doubt you would enjoy it.”
The Thief once again steps into my space, forcing me to back up. “That’s where you’re wrong, enchantress. I have … peculiar tastes.” His eyes flick down to my throat and chest. “I’ve never been with a human. Or a siren. Or a mortal made fae. But I have been with women who fight back—that I have a healthy appetite for.”
Healthy is the last word I’d use to describe the Thief’s fetishes.
I go toe-to-toe with him. “That wasn’t the case when you were Karnon,” I say softly. “The way I remember it, you wouldn’t touch a woman unless she was incapacitated.”
The Thief of Souls stares at me; there’s something foreign and merciless in the dark depths of his eyes. “You have me entirely figured out, don’t you?” he says. “The Thief, too frightened to fuck a woman unless she’s prone.”
Before I get the chance to back away, he grabs me by the throat. “Perhaps I could disprove that notion? This is just a reverie, after all, just a twisted dream where a wicked man takes you against your will.”
My skin brightens.
“You might even enjoy it,” his eyes dip to my skin. “I know I will.”
My heart quakes at his rising interest even as another, insidious part of me is coming alive.
He pulls me in close.
The Thief is going to kiss me, just as he did when he was Karnon. And perhaps he’ll breathe that same vile magic into me now as he did then. Only this time, I won’t be immune to it.
A human would struggle against this. A siren, however …
Let him come closer. Let him think he has us.
My eyes drop to his lips. “I know you can wear the faces of the dead.”
He leans in, his lips skimming my jaw. “And to think I believed you’d never figure out any of it.”
He releases my throat, and I stagger back, massaging my raw skin.
“Do you want to know something?” he asks.
I gaze back at him with barely masked repulsion.
“Mara met me more than once. The first time, I was courting her sister.”
Just like Janus, Mara once had a sibling. I’d almost forgotten. I rack my brain, trying to remember her name.
Thalia. That’s what it was. She was the Flora Kingdom’s heir apparent, only she died before her time, falling on a sword or something like that, after, after …
My eyes snap to the Thief. “The traveling minstrel. That was you.”
A man had come to her kingdom, and Thalia had fallen hopelessly in love with him. The way I heard it, the whole thing had ended poorly.
God, but how long ago was that? Centuries? All this time the Thief has been moving his pieces into place.
His eyes seem to smile. “I was an enchanter—I just happened to have a penchant for serenading young royals. You want to know something those histories never mentioned?”
He pauses, and the silence of this strange place seems to close in on me. I never knew that something as insubstantial as silence could have such weight.
“I fucked Mara then too. To this day she has no idea that I’ve been inside her as two separate men.”
Nausea stirs low in my belly.
Just a dream.
“She was always the envious one, but especially then, when her sister had everything and she had nothing. The first time we exchanged anything more than pleasantries was after it was known that Thalia and I were together. She pulled me away at one of those frivolous parties, dropped to her knees, and well … what she lacked in power or rank she made up for with enthusiasm. I didn’t even have to enchant her—truth be told, at the time, I didn’t want much to do with her, but I just couldn’t resist the temptation.”
I grimace.
“I remember how the story ends,” I say. “You were killed,” I say.
“Do the dead ever really die?” he asks.
The same damn question he posed to me back in the Flora Kingdom.
I can feel the answer right there, on the tip of my tongue. I glance from the Thief to the strange blooming vines, to the column he rested against just minutes ago, to the pool next to it.
My ears begin to ring as I stare at that water. The longer I look, the more it seems as though it’s shifting, whispering.
Save us …
Save … us …
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“What … is in that water?” I can’t seem to look away.
“What does it matter? None of this is real.”
The next morning, I do in fact skip the meeting, choosing instead to nurse my hangover. (Praise Jesus for fae medicine—that stuff totally works.)
By the time Des and Janus leave their meeting, I’m feeling loads better.
The Day King nods when he sees me, his golden hair shimmering. “Callypso,” he says, formally.
“Janus, may I have a word with you?” There’s something I need to say to the Day King in light of all I know.
He gives me a peculiar look. “Of course,” he says.
Behind him, Des slides his hands into his pockets and meanders over to a nearby guard, striking up a conversation.
I pull the Day King off to the side. “I owe you an apology,” I say to Janus.
Janus looks me over, his eyes a little wary.
He’s afraid of us, my siren whispers, as he should be.
“Actually,” I amend, “I owe you several.” I take a breath. “I’m sorry for acting like a fool yesterday. You and Desmond were just trying to do what was best for your kingdoms; I’m sure my thoughts on literally everything that crossed my mind were exasperating to hear.
“I’m sorry for glamouring you. I don’t know how much Des has told you about sirens”—probably nothing since Des’s least favorite hobby is sharing—“but … sirens enjoy violence and sex; I can’t glamour someone without that aspect of my nature surfacing to some degree. I’m not nice when I use my power; I’m sorry you had to experience it yourself.”
And now for the grand finale of apologies.
“Lastly, I’m sorry I blamed you for kidnapping me. I was … mistaken. I didn’t understand that at the time, but I do now.”
Janus gives me what might be his first genuine smile. It’s unfair for anyone to be as pretty as he is, with his golden hair and bright blue eyes. He’s the sun come to life—blinding in his beauty.
“I appreciate the apologies, Callypso. Despite what you may think, your commentary yesterday lightened a very solemn talk, and I am thankful for that. As for the glamour, if I remember correctly, I was the one who insisted you show me your abilities.
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