His eyes are alight with excitement. “I can hurt you—” The metal bars bow in until they touch my skin. My flesh begins to sizzle and smoke under the press of iron.

“This isn’t even me being creative,” he adds. “I could make the floor grow eyes and a mouth and swallow you whole. I could change your appearance—”

He begins to grin. “—I could even make the dead come back to life.”

“Cherub.”

I start at that voice, my breath catching. I turn so fast that I burn myself against the bars all over again.

Stepping out from the shadows, clad in leather and a faded Guns N’ Roses shirt, is my soulmate.

A small sound escapes my throat. “Des.”

My eyes scour him, taking in his sleeve of tattoos, his broad, sculpted shoulders, the ponytail he wears his hair in.

I know he’s not real, that none of this is real, and yet he looks completely lifelike.

In the Otherworld, dreams are never just dreams. They’re another sort of reality.

Des had told me that once.

With every step he takes towards me his strides get longer, brisker. He stops in front of my cage, his eyes searching my face. His gaze flicks to the Thief, his upper lip ticking. A grim smile grows on his features.

“She’s going to kill you,” he says with certainty.

“No,” the Thief disagrees, “she’s going to do things for me—many perverse things—over the course of her very long life, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

My heart is beginning to hammer in my chest, my pain and rage feeding the siren inside me.

I flash him a malicious smile. “If you want to taste me, Thief, then come closer,” I beckon.

His face is shrewd but his interest is piqued. “I could come to you—or you could come to me.”

My brows knit.

All at once a strong wind tears through the Thief’s palace. The gust blows away the bars of my cage; it blows away the bone-like columns holding up the ceiling, then the pale stone walls along with it. The wind blows away the floor, yanking on my dress.

Then, to my horror, it blows away Desmond, piece by piece. First his feet and his calves, then his chest and arms and pelvis. He stares at me with his fierce, silver eyes, his irises glittering enigmatically. Those too, are lost a second later, scattering like dust in the wind.

I let out a cry, but the wind snatches it away, whipping my hair as it does so. The supernatural gust is sweeping everything up into inky darkness.

The last things to be wiped away are the Thief and his gilded throne.

He smiles down at me, looking like a conqueror. “Come find your mate where oblivion lies. I’ll keep you captive till darkness dies.”

I wake with a gasp.

My hair is plastered to my face, and my skin glows. Next to me, Temper snores, her body somehow managing to take up three-fourths of the bed.

I slip off the mattress and begin to rummage around the room, discreetly looking for a swimsuit. When I don’t find one, I settle for lingerie. Changing into the items, I head back for the pool that lingers half indoors, half out.

This time, when I enter the glowing waters, I don’t sink to the bottom. Instead, I flip on my back and let myself drift along the surface. Inevitably, the water moves me to the outer edges of the pool, and I stare up at the stars.

Des …

My chest feels like it’s caving in.

Even the stars seem to mock me. How can they continue to shine when the man that ruled them is gone?

Come find your mate where oblivion lies …

I begin to glow all over again, just thinking about the Thief.

It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to hurt someone this badly.

Let’s sing to him our sweet, strange song. He will know pleasure then—pleasure and pain. We’ll remind him why sirens are known as killers.

The conundrum of it all is how to get my hands on the Thief. Dying is the most obvious way—it’s a one-way ticket straight to the Thief’s kingdom. But that’s exactly what the Thief wants—it’s the very reason he gave me the lilac wine. Because, at the end of the day, once a fairy dies, their souls are under the domain of the King of the Dead.

At least I think he wants me under his domain … he hasn’t tried very hard to kill me.

Come find your mate where oblivion lies …

Said as though I could just fucking walk there.

I glare up at the stars—

My breath leaves me all at once.

Holy shit.

What if I could just walk to the Kingdom of Death?

What if?

The Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth is a physical place in the Otherworld, just like the other kingdoms. The fact that you have to die to get there is the most obvious route in, but …

If fairies can spin moonlight into cloth, and Des can put starlight in my hair, why couldn’t the living enter the realm of the dead without dying?

Even on Earth, there were tales of living people entering the Underworld—some even leaving with the dead. Here in the Otherworld, a place where the impossible is made possible, perhaps I could do the same.

Or perhaps grief has made you weak in the head.

I deflate.

I continue to stare up at the stars, the water lapping against my skin. But the longer my thoughts wander, the more they keep coming back to the possibility that there might be a way for me enter the Land of the Dead, one that doesn’t involve dying.

I bet it’s possible.

Maybe then I could face the Thief of Souls without being his subject.

After all, I wouldn’t have been the first person to visit the King of the Dead and live to tell the tale. There was one other who sought him out long ago …

I sit upright in the water, the waves splashing at the movement.

Goddamn it, I have an idea.

An idea that might actually work.

Chapter 39

“All hail the Queen of the Night.”

I stride into the throne room, Temper trailing behind me. A chorus of cheers rise up as fairies watch me file in, their gazes drawn to my glowing skin. My power still hasn’t settled down, not since yesterday. At this point, I’m not sure it ever will.

Not until I get my mate back.

I take a seat on Des’s throne, Temper stopping just off to my side. Hours ago I filled my friend in on all that I knew about the Thief and the kingdom he rules—and then I told her my idea. Now, all that’s left is executing it.

The room goes quiet, people waiting on me for further instruction.

I don’t wear a crown, and I’m not here by choice, but for once, I feel … queenly.

Too late for Des to see it.

I glance at one of the Night soldiers guarding the doors at the back of the room. “Bring the traitor in.”

The soldier ducks his head and slips out. In his wake, the silence seems to deepen.

We wait, the minutes ticking by.

All at once the double doors swing open, and two guards dressed in black escort a white-haired fairy down the aisle.

Galleghar smirks at me, clearly pleased at himself despite the situation—pleased that his last remaining child is dead.

At the sight of him, I squeeze the armrests, my claws puncturing through the velvet.

We will tear into him and make ribbons of his flesh.

The soldiers lead Des’s father to the end of the aisle.

“Release him,” I say to the guards.

Immediately they step away from Galleghar, moving to take their posts nearby.

The former king glances down at his iron cuffs, a smile twisting his mouth. “How does it feel to lose what you loved most, slave?” he asks, peering up at me.