“I will break you again and again until there is nothing left to break,” the Thief says softly, running his knuckles over my cheek.

Break me?

I’ve been thinking about this wrong all my life. I’m not porcelain to be shattered, I’m something else entirely.

Break me?

I level my pitiless gaze on him. “You can try.”

The next morning, when I wake, I’m alone in Des’s bed.

For a moment, I simply lay there, gathering my pillow up and breathing in the Bargainer’s scent.

Eventually, I sit up, running my hands through my hair. On the bedside table, a cup of coffee sits. The note beside it says, Till darkness dies.

A little smile slips out. I take the mug, and sip, letting my mind drift.

Inevitably, my thoughts move to last night’s dream. For the first time since I started having them, I’m not frightened by the nightmare. The Thief of Souls and I are pitted against one another, not as hunter and hunted, but as adversaries. And that detail changes everything.

Since Karnon’s death, I’ve been in the business of running—so much so that I haven’t truly done any chasing.

Setting my coffee aside, I slip out of bed and rifle through Des’s things until I find a notebook and a pen. Clambering back into bed, I uncap the pen and press it to the page.

The Thief of Souls – controls dreams (small death), wears the bodies of the dead, wields dark magic, places fairies into a stupefied state, fathers children who drink blood and prophesize …

Most of the attributes have something to do with death, and those that don’t seem to be attributes of Night fairies. Not that this knowledge brings me any closer to answers.

Stupid mystery.

I could just glamour the Thief and force the confessions out of him.

Holy shit.

I could do that. Why have I not thought of this sooner?

I’m elated for two-point-five seconds before I remember that I freaking already tried this hat trick after I drank the lilac wine, when he came to me in a dream. It didn’t do a damn thing but excite the freak.

So much for that idea. Unless dreams have their own sort of logic to them. Maybe he’s only impervious to my glamour in dreams …

I rub my forehead. I mean, who the fuck knows at this point? I’m running in circles here and all I’m managing to do is to confuse myself.

Setting my notes aside, I push myself out of Des’s bed. I steal an Iron Maiden shirt from his drawer, ignoring the folded set of women’s clothing clearly meant for me, grab my mug, then pad down the hall.

I find the King of the Night in his living room, blessedly shirtless as he paces back and forth. He stares down at an unrolled piece of parchment, his brow furrowed and his lower lip pinched between his fingers.

His eyes move from his work to me. A grin spreads across his face when he catches sight of my T-shirt. “That is a very good look on you, Callie.”

I hold up the mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime, love.”

“What are you reading?” I ask, coming over to him.

His gaze drops to the paper and his frown returns. “Reports on the state of the Otherworld.”

For a moment, the information is a shock. I’d almost managed to forget that even on earth Des has a host of responsibilities he still must attend to.

See, this is proof I’d make a shitty queen.

“What are they saying?” I ask.

“Malaki tracked Galleghar to the Fauna Kingdom, but lost him there. And, as far as the kingdoms themselves go, Flora and Fauna are suffering massive casualties.

“The wholesale slaughter in those kingdoms continues. The Thief’s soldiers are moving to all the big cities and killing any fae they come across. The sleeping soldiers are sustaining heavy losses themselves—Flora and Fauna fae aren’t just going down without a fight—but the carnage continues.”

This entire time, fairies have been dying. While I was taking body shots off of Des, those soldiers were cutting through innocents.

My stomach rolls at the thought.

You’ve let yourself be idle, my siren whispers. This is what happens.

“Why would the Thief do that?” Conquering is a bloodsport, but these kingdoms have already fallen. There’s no reason the deaths should continue.

“Why would he, indeed?” Des looks up from the paper, meeting my eyes. “You have a box of memorabilia from some of the worst humans. What would they do if they came into power?”

They’d kill and maim and run their kingdoms lawlessly, and no one would be safe but for them.

“This isn’t a human we’re dealing with,” I object.

Humans have their own drives, fae another.

“Evil doesn’t work that differently between worlds,” Des says. “Although fae do have a knack for creativity and flare.”

Des sets the parchment aside. “Oh, by the way, I thought you should know, Typhus Henbane is dead.”

It takes me a minute to place the name.

The King of the Banished Lands, the one who we’d come to for news of Galleghar.

The man with a city’s worth of stolen magic is now dead, and I’m at least partially responsible for it.

Yesterday, that piece of information would’ve sat like a stone in my stomach. Today … today I’m in an odd mood.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Exactly what you feared might happen. His people rose up against him and slaughtered him. They took back their magic.”

The magic he’d forced them to barter away …

Bartered magic.

My eyes snap to Des.

“What?”

I run back to his bedroom, only to find the Bargainer is already there waiting for me. He stands, arms folded, watching me with curious eyes. Sidestepping him, I grab the paper I left on the bed and stare at my notes.

“Can I have my timeline?” I beckon to Des with my hand.

Wordlessly, the Bargainer produces the timeline I’d created days ago, dropping it in my hand.

I set the two papers side by side on the mattress. Over my shoulder, the Bargainer stares down at them.

It was right in front of me the entire time.

“Galleghar and the Thief share powers.”

Chapter 26

Galleghar and the Thief share powers.

I don’t know how or when or why the two of them are linked up, but I would stake serious money the two are cobound. That would explain why Galleghar keeps popping up during our search for the Thief. He’s hooked on the same magical powerline that the Thief of Souls is. So long as their magic is bound together, you can’t have one without the other.

The proof of their strange partnership is mapped out on the timeline. Centuries ago Galleghar is killed, only his body is incorruptible, defying the natural order. For two hundred years he lay dormant—much like the sleeping soldiers—until he was awoken by a shadow—a shadow similar to the one that haunted the sleeping women and the casket children.

When I turn to face Des, he looks … horrified. The expression is only there for a moment before he tucks it away.

His gaze moves to mine. “Gods.” He takes a step closer. “That would explain why my power wouldn’t destroy the sleeping soldiers.”

Because the shadows are loyal to their own. Even if the Thief isn’t a Night fae, his life and magic is cobound to a man who is one.

The darkness will betray you.

I grab my notes and read over the list of the Thief’s traits. His powers obviously have something to do with necromancy, but necromancers are mortal, and the Thief is not.