At least, Galleghar can’t be killed so long as the Thief continues to prolong his unnatural life. That means that the bog might be able to scare the crap out of the fallen king, but he won’t die from the experience.

“Damn,” Temper says, “So you’re just going to let him rot away inside that creature?”

“No.”

Unfortunately.

“I still need Galleghar.”

Temper gives me a questioning look.

“He’s going to guide me to the Pit.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh shit. You’re going to try to save Des.”

Not try. I will save him.

She cracks her neck. “I’ve never been to the underworld before. This should be fun.”

“You’re not coming.” I don’t look at her when I say it.

For a beat, there’s silence.

Then—

“What? Of course I’m coming. Don’t make me get offended.”

I stop in the middle of the hallway and turn to her. “Temper, I’m probably going to die.”

And I can’t bear the thought of putting her life at risk in the process.

“One,” Temper says, “you’re not going to fucking die. This is not a suicide mission—otherwise, I’d be chaining your ass to one of the stupid marble sculptures littering this place rather than getting ready to pack my bags.

“And two, yeah, this is dangerous shit. You want to rescue your soulmate and kill that asshole Thief while you’re at it. I’m not even sure how you’re supposed to do that. What I do know is that you need a sorceress to help you out. I like frightening scary creatures and messing shit up in general. I’m coming with you.”

I hem and haw as the two of us stand there in the hallway. I mean, Temper is my ride or die bitch. And there’s no one better to have at your side than an angry sorceress when facing down an enemy of epic proportions.

But the thing is, the Thief has seemingly boundless power and influence.

“Temper, I don’t know how this is going to turn out, and I don’t want—”

I don’t want you to die.

She raises her eyebrows. “You actually think this fucktard freak could take me out? Now I am offended.” Her eyes briefly blaze with power.

Ugh, she’s impossible.

“Fine, come with me then.” Not going to fight with her over this.

She lets out a low laugh, her tongue running over her lower lip. I might love this lady, but right now Temper looks sinister.

“Girl,” she says, “let’s make that bastard pay.”

“I need weapons. Lots and lots of weapons,” I order one of my guards as Temper and I head towards my rooms. “And battle leathers. Bring enough for the two of us.”

The sorceress, for her part, is practically glowing with her excitement. She’s got a healthy appetite for revenge, this one.

Temper and I enter my chambers, and I try not to shudder at the sight of the rooms. I keep expecting Des to appear at any moment, his wry voice at my back.

But I’m not going to hear him or see him—not until I save him.

Several minutes later, a couple Night soldiers come to my chambers, their arms full of a wide variety of weapons and armor. They deposit the goods on the bed and retreat.

Once the door closes behind them, Temper and I begin to change.

Since Des isn’t here to magically help, suiting up takes a good ten minutes. As the two of us fasten and buckle on the battle leathers, we begin to arm ourselves—a sword here, a dagger there.

I slide my trusted daggers into their sheaths on either side of my hips while Temper picks up a double-headed axe.

“Look,” she says, “it’s lady-sized for my wee woman fingers.”

I snicker. The weapon is small. Temper slides the axe into a holster at her back. Guess its wee size works.

I finish cinching up a thigh holster and straighten.

There’s no more fear. I went from sorrow to desperation, to numbness, and now this.

Cold, hard determination.

Essence to essence. Breath for breath. I’ve been chipped away of my weaknesses. This is what’s beneath.

Dead or not, I’m getting my mate back, and so help the gods, I will bring down the universe if I have to.

Till darkness dies, Des.

Two hours later, Temper and I are standing in front of a moaning Galleghar, his body coated in a clear mucous-like substance, which I can only assume is the bog’s stomach acid.

The bog, for its part, is safely tucked away in the same unassuming box Des once released it from.

I frown down at Galleghar, who’s holding his head.

“Get up,” I command, my skin glowing.

He pushes himself up on shaky feet. When he takes me and Temper in, he lets out a cry that’s somewhere between feral anger and blinding fear.

The sorceress assesses him. “You never thought two slaves would fuck your life to shit, now, did you?”

Not just two slaves, two women, which for Galleghar is somehow worse.

“I will kill you,” he says, staggering forward.

“No, you won’t,” I say calmly. “What you will do is receive a shower, get some new clothes and help us.”

“You crazy bitch—”

“I don’t need your tongue, so unless you want to lose it, you will continue to speak to me and my sorceress friend here in the most reverential of ways.”

“I want him to call me ‘Great Goddess.’ Can you make that happen?” Temper says to me.

Staring at Galleghar, I say, “You will refer to the sorceress from here on out as ‘My Great Goddess of Fuckery and Other Magical Things.’ Understood?”

If Galleghar could spit fire right now, he would. Instead, he nods sharply, his nostrils flaring.

“Good,” I say. I motion to the soldiers standing post nearby. “Please get the traitor a bath and fresh clothing—and something to eat. He’ll need his strength for what’s to come.”

“What’s to come?” he echoes, a spark of fear lighting his eyes.

“Did I not tell you?” I say. “You’re taking us to Memnos.”

Memnos is supposed to be a frightening place, but when I catch sight of the dark island on the horizon, all I feel is a cold thrill.

Getting close now.

Des’s aides and his soldiers had all been reluctant to let me come here with nothing but a human and a traitor. They’d wanted to send in the last of their army, uncaring that the Thief of Souls could put them all to sleep in an instant if it pleased them.

So I ignored their advice. In the end, they couldn’t do much about it—not when I had glamour working for me.

The three of us close in on the island, Temper cradled in Galleghar’s arms. The once mighty king is now nothing more than our errand boy. He wears a venomous look, but he’s magically enslaved to my orders. And so he obediently leads us forward, towards the floating island.

When we reach it, we pass over a small city. The lights below us are muted, the smell of blood and corrupted magic tinges the air. I can practically feel the danger radiating off the land.

The buildings give away to thick, blighted forests with shadowy trees and strange light glittering from within their depths. The woods are only broken up by the odd fortress or cottage, the structures looking downright nefarious.

The trees thin out, and those that remain look weak and warped. It’s amongst these trees that we land.

I drop to my feet, folding my wings up as Galleghar lands ahead of me.