I don’t feel human, I don’t feel fae. I’m losing myself, my heart and head trying fruitlessly to slip down the bond I share with Des, chasing after the last echoes of his power.

But it’s gone. It’s gone and I don’t know if it’s ever coming back.

We will get it back—or else.

I’m screaming and screaming and screaming, and the whole world is falling. My pain is darkening, deepening like the night until I don’t know where the agony ends and the anger begins.

We’ll kill and kill and kill and kill and—

“Callypso.”

I turn at the echoing sound of Temper’s voice. Her eyes burn with her power. At her feet is Malaki, his body lying prone. Not too far away Janus lays, his form similarly stupefied. Victims of the Thief’s dark magic.

“We’re leaving,” Temper says.

The sorceress’s gaze, her fiery gaze, is focused on Galleghar’s still form.

Her vengeance matches ours …

The former Night King lies sprawled on the ground, unconscious from her last hit.

Temper raises her hand, her palm outstretched.

She means to kill him.

“No,” I say, my voice vibrating with my power. “His death is mine to claim.”

Temper’s eyes narrow on Galleghar, even as her lips curve up just the slightest. The smile is nothing but cruel. “Fine.”

She turns her attention to a sleeping soldier. “You fucked with the wrong humans,” she says, her voice resonating with her own magic.

From her feet, fire flares to life. It races out along the ground in a dozen different directions, heading for the sleeping soldiers. First one alights, then another and another. One by one, the Thief’s minions get swept up by flame.

They shriek as their bodies blacken and burn, and I feel nothing at all.

The fires rage for only a few minutes, and when it’s extinguished, all that remains of the soldiers are blackened bones and ash.

The only people left in the room are me, Temper, Malaki, and Janus—the last two of whom are still unmoving, the Thief’s magic clinging to their skin. And then there’s Galleghar Nyx.

The root of all my suffering.

I rise from the ground, my wings fanning wide behind me. Slowly, I pace to him.

I feel so cold. Even my rage burns like ice. The only things left inside me are pain and vengeance.

Des’s father is beginning to stir, moaning a little.

Temper steps up to him, laughing low in her throat. “You’re going to wish you were dead.” Her voice is inhuman, possessed by her wicked nature. For once, I wholly embrace it.

This is why no one crosses us. We are fearsomely wrought.

I close in on Galleghar, pulling out the iron shackles from my back pocket. I ignore the way the metal sizzles against my skin as I grab the former king’s wrists. Dragging them behind his back, I slap on one cuff, then the other, pinning his arms behind him.

Slit his throat. Rip his heart out and make him eat it. Disembowel him and dance on his innards.

I want it all.

Make him pay for what he did to our mate.

Galleghar’s moans get louder and his eyes begin to flutter.

Crouching next to him, I whisper a single promise—

“Your will is mine.”

All those years I’d been under the yoke of my conscience I’d been running from this single, sobering truth: I can do more than bend others to my will; I can utterly enslave them to it.

All this time I’d hidden from my true nature.

I’ll hide from it no more.

Chapter 36

I can’t feel a thing.

I didn’t feel Temper’s touch when she held me in her arms, her skin like fire to my ice. I didn’t feel the bite of pain or gratitude when several Night fae collected us from that cavern. And I didn’t feel the lashing wind against my cheeks during the long journey back to Somnia.

It’s only once I’m deposited in my chambers and I take a shuddering breath, that I feel something.

Agony like no other. It weakens my knees and chokes the breath out of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is worse, so much worse, than feeling nothing. This pain is like a wound that’s bleeding me out.

Temper is still at my side, her fingers threaded through mine. I slip my hand out of hers.

“Leave me,” I say.

There’s no way she’d ever leave me if circumstances were normal. But my skin is still glowing and my glamour is still riding my words. My siren hasn’t left me since the battle, and even a sorceress as powerful as Temper can’t fight my magic.

“This is bullshit,” Temper mutters as her feet carry her out of the room. She grabs the door handle and opens the door. “Soon as your glamour wears off, I’m coming back for you.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and her voice gives way to silence.

My eyes sweep over the suite. Des’s wedding present to me.

A sob slips out, and my chest heaves with empty, silent cries. I wander to the infinity pool with its glowing water.

Step by step I slip into the pool, clothes and all. Beneath the surface my head slips.

This can’t be real. Pain like this doesn’t exist, and surely one can’t survive this sort of suffering.

I sink to the bottom of the pool and stare up through the water. From here I can hear the water rushing between my ears, and I can see the suite’s lamps glimmering far above me.

I could stay right here, forever, and I’d be fine with that. I don’t think a siren is capable of drowning, but I’m always willing to test that theory.

If I died, I’d be in the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth. Then I’d be back with Desmond, once and for all.

My throat tightens. He’s gone.

But I could join him. I could join him in the land of the dead—

That’s what the Thief wants.

I let out a moan, the sound warped beneath the water.

There’s no relief from this agony; not even death will be the end of it. If I died, I would fall under the Thief’s reign. Then the monster could wholly control me, and I doubt reuniting me with my mate is a part of his plan.

So I’m stuck here, in the land of the living, all while Des—

Des is dead.

Dead.

A sob slips out then, a burst of bubbles forming with the cry. But once I start weeping, I can’t seem to stop. My sirenic voice turns the sound into music, and it’s horrible that pain can sound lovely.

He’s gone, and I don’t know what to do.

That motherfucking Thief and his sick, twisted game. I’d played right into his hand the moment I decided to go after Galleghar. When I set foot into that cavern, the teeth of his trap had snapped shut around me.

Des is gone; Malaki and Janus are catatonic, victims of the same dark magic that compromised the sleeping soldiers.

And I am broken.

All my fault. If I hadn’t made the call to go after Galleghar, Des would be here still.

I close my eyes, my tears slipping into the water.

I don’t know how long I linger down at the bottom of the pool. Longer than a human could withstand. Eventually, someone leaps into the pool and scoops me up, dragging me out of the water.

I cough a little, my lungs heaving in a breath.

“Your Majesty!”

I blink at the fae soldier, the water dripping down my glowing skin.

He looks panicked. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t die. Our kingdom needs you.”

I’m not going to die.

I’m already dead.

What is death?

Do the dead ever truly die?