My lips slip beneath the surface once more.

Euribios grabs my shoulders. “Let me help you,” he says, and I think for a moment he’s going to draw me up.

But then—

“I anoint you in the waters of the dead.”

I don’t have time to suck in air before he plunges me down into the depths of this pool.

Beneath the surface, a thousand different souls howl, their faded magic sparking against my skin.

He holds us prisoner.

Centuries of unrest.

Never ending.

The spirits drag me down deeper and deeper into the dark waters.

Need our tithe.

Give him to us.

They claw at my glowing skin.

“I am going to kill him,” I say into that cursed water. My voice rings true and clear, lilting eerily in the water.

I sense something sweep through the dead then, something besides their hunger and fury.

Excitement.

Their hold loosens on me just a bit.

Give him to us, they repeat.

The siren in me smiles.

“I will.”

Euribios jerks me to the surface once more. “Rise, my consort,” he says.

I’m shaken. Deep in those depths I heard the dead and I felt them. All those who passed during the centuries he’s ruled here; they’re not supposed to be languishing here in this tiny pool.

The defunct ship I saw earlier now comes to mind. The vessel sits unused at the castle’s dock, and beyond it, an entire ocean awaits. But the captain or ferryman or whoever moves souls on is no longer doing so, and the fae who have died are now suffering for it.

This must end.

The spirits have released me, but the Thief’s hands are still on my skin, his eyes following his touch. The human in me wants to pull away from him, but the siren beckons him closer.

So very arrogant to linger in the water with a siren.

So very arrogant … and reckless.

Save Des. Kill this monster. Those are the only two goals I have at the moment. Now that I know my glamour works on the Thief, these goals seem temptingly easy. But that’s the same thought I had when I sought to ambush Galleghar on Barbos. No doubt there’s a trap waiting for me here as well. Nothing is easy when it comes to the Thief.

There are two kinds of predators. One who chases after prey, and one who coaxes their prey to them.

A great god like Euribios must feel impervious to harm. He’s too great, too powerful.

It will be his downfall.

But I can’t be too hasty.

Let him think he has control of the situation. Beguile him softly.

I stare up at the Thief. “Am I the only one to be baptized?”

His eyes glitter. In response, he steps closer to me, his gaze fixed on my face. “You are … utterly singular. You always have been.” He looks awed by the affect I have on him. “If you want to baptize me, siren, then simply give me the order.”

He begs for death!

I take his hand. “Come, my captor king.”

My blood stirs as I tug him deeper and deeper into the pool. I can feel the ancient compulsion to draw my victim into the water.

Water …

Months ago, I remember thinking about the origins of my kind.

How sirens were known for luring sailors into the sea. That story never made sense. The perverse cruelty of it all. The seeming randomness of the victim and the manner of death.

But it’s not random at all.

The water is hungry for blood.

I am hungry for blood.

Vengeance and lust and bloodsport all call to me.

Have patience …

Maybe those sailors deserved their deaths. Maybe they didn’t.

I place my hands on Euribios’s shoulders. He’s watching my lips, waiting for my next order.

Patience …

“Let me anoint you in the waters of the dead.”

My clawtips dig into his shoulders, pressing down. Slowly he lowers himself.

Patience …

I lean in close, until only a breath separates my lips from his.

“Drown,” I breathe.

Our patience is gone.

The Thief laughs, looking disturbingly unfazed. “I warned you I had precautions put in place.”

My stomach tightens with dread and disappointment.

Too hasty. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

The Thief’s form flickers and fades.

An instant later, he reforms from the shadows, and when he does, something in his face changes. Maybe it’s confusion, maybe it’s surprise. Whatever it is, it’s a dead giveaway that Euribios’s precautions are not working as they should.

He glances at the dark corners of the room.

“The shadows—” the Thief accuses.

“—have betrayed you,” a familiar voice finishes.

I jolt, my eyes darting up, towards the sound.

And there he is.

Des.

Chapter 44

Des.

My heart thumps painfully.

Dear God—Des.

He’s right there, a stone’s throw away.

The Night King has draped himself over Euribios’s throne, his back leaning against one of the armrests, his legs propped up against the other, lounging like he wasn’t all but lost to me only moments ago.

My connection throbs, just as it has since the Thief exposed his true power and identity.

It must be a trick, a cruel, calculated trick. Euribios holds Des’s life in the palm of his hand.

Only, the Thief is looking a bit startled too. He swivels to face the Bargainer, even as he still struggles against my command.

Never have I seen a creature withstand my glamour this long.

Des lifts his eyebrows. “Didn’t expect the shadows to fuck you over, did you?”

The Night King hops off the throne and saunters over to the pool. Briefly, his eyes touch on mine, and I see a thousand things in them. Most of all, I see yearning, so much yearning.

It matches my own.

My Bargainer.

I stare at him like he’s an apparition. All that pain I’d been working on overcoming just to function—it’s like the wound reopened. But now there’s hope to accompany the pain. So much hope I can barely breathe around it.

Maybe this is a trick … but perhaps I’m not the one being played.

The Thief fights against my glamour and the pull of the dead who still cling to him. It’s now his turn to attempt to escape this pool, wading towards the edge.

“You’re to stay in this pool, Euribios,” I command from behind him, the full force of my glamour folded into my words.

Beyond him, Des sways a little towards me, even as he stares at Euribios. I can tell my mate is trying hard not to look in my direction. He’s no longer immune to my glamour, and I’m no longer holding my powers in check.

Between us, the Thief’s progress slows.

He looks over his shoulder at me. “You will pay for this later,” he says, his voice laced with venom.

The room around us darkens with Des’s vengeance.

People like us are someone’s nightmare.

I narrow my eyes on the Thief, and smile a little. “I don’t think so.”

The King of Night comes to the edge of the pool and crouches down, studying our foe. The Thief jerks against the incessant pull driving him downwards.

“You might have power, Euribios,” Des eventually says, “but there is one thing you never considered.”

My heart beats faster. Somehow, Des orchestrated this.

“Loyalty.”

Euribios’s back is to me; what I would give to see this conniving monster’s expression.

“For centuries, the shadows and I have been the closest of confidants.”