Which means—

I think I know who the Thief of Souls is.

Karnon.

This time when I’m deposited in what I can only presume to be Karnon’s room, I know what to expect. The ominous press of air, the silent retreat of the guards, Karnon’s approach.

I’m once again shackled and blinded, completely at the whim of the monstrous fae king. However, the moment he speaks, something about our dynamic feels different.

“My precious bird, they blinded you,” he says, aghast. A moment later his claws slash through the material, leaving the cloth hanging in ribbons around my neck.

“Beautiful creature,” he murmurs, taking me in. His nostrils flare as his gaze rakes over me. “Human … but not. Creature of the heavens and the sea.”

His gaze halts at my hands. “Shackles too? This is preposterous. You are my guest.”

He rips the iron cuffs binding my wrists clear apart, hissing as he does so. I startle at the show of strength. I assumed he was powerful, but seeing a live demonstration is sobering.

“Cursed metal!” he spits out as the cuffs hits the ground. He clenches his fists, and I can hear his skin sizzling.

Iron burns.

In spite of the pain, he reaches between my ankles and rips apart the cuffs there as well, howling once again at the pain.

This is what the warriors endured when they wore these?

A guard pokes his head in. “Your Majest—”

“Out!” Karnon cries.

The door slams shut not even a moment later.

To me he mumbles, “They’re getting too daring, those guards, coming and going without knocking. Must make an example of one of them—and soon.” He’s completely unaware that as he talks, his palms are smoking.

Karnon rises back up, those antlers of his towering over us. His eyes are bright and unfocused, his pupils dilated.

He cups my face, and immediately I tense, his burning palms heating my skin.

“Frightened little bird, you have nothing to fear from me.” He begins to stroke my skin. “All I want is to calm you. Pet you.”

Ugh. Mad king indeed.

His hands run down my arms. Halfway down he stops and turns them over. “What is this bare flesh?” he says. “Where are your markings?”

Um, what?

His hands move to my neck, and he probes the skin there. “And your gills!” he says, horrified. “Where are they?”

I give him a cautious look. Today Karnon seems kinder but definitely crazier than the last time we met.

He spins me around and sucks in a breath. “Your wings! Who clipped you?”

He turns me around, and once again I get a close up of those wild eyes and the fangs that his lips can never quite hide. His claw tips dig into my flesh.

I realize after a moment that he expects me to answer.

I blink a few times, dazed by all the manhandling. “No one clipped my wings. I never had any to begin with.” You crazy bastard.

“None to begin with?” He moves behind me, making me tense up again, and he presses his hands flat against my back. “No, no.” He shakes his head vehemently. “Dormant.” He strokes my skin, and I’m beginning to get the willies. “Oh, but they must bud.”

I don’t follow any of this. I don’t speak psycho.

“Beautiful bird. Tragic bird. My bird. You are not like the others. They smell of trees and sunbaked earth. Some feel cold like the winter freeze. No beasts among them—save for my sacrifices. Must be made, must be made.”

If I tried to run right now, how far would I get?

His hands move down my back, to my waist, and I decide that I don’t really care what my odds are of escape.

I turn around, letting the siren out.

His eyes glitter as he takes in my shimmering skin. “Breathtaking creature. Caged, flightless thing. You are a rare—”

I slam my knee into his crotch.

He makes a small, choked sound, his body folding in as he clutches himself.

His mistake to see me as harmless.

I bolt for the door.

I hear a snarl behind me. A moment later, he materializes in front of me, blocking the door. His eyes flash, a menacing growl rumbles in his throat. “If you run, I will chase you, and I will break you, pretty bird.”

“Stay away from me,” I say. My voice becoming ethereal.

The Fauna King’s eyes flicker, and I sense I’m no longer staring at Karnon.

Those eyes … I’m looking down an abyss, and the monster that lies at the bottom of it.

They are the same eyes I stared into yesterday.

He runs his hands through his hair, taming his wild mane. This man’s not bestial, not like Karnon. He’s cultivated. His eyes are focused, shrewd.

Interest sparks in his gaze. “Beautiful slave. We meet again.”

This … is not the same person I was speaking to a moment ago. I’m used to having two aspects of myself, so I know the signs fairly well.

The way Karnon is now studying me, his expression piqued—and hungry—makes me worried. The Karnon I met earlier was crazy, unpredictable, feral, but he didn’t seem evil. Not like he does now.

I begin to back up. In response, the fae king prowls forward. This man is brutal, violent, unforgiving. He’s the kind of man who takes and takes and takes.

He closes the distance between us, wrapping his hand around my wrist. Karnon’s palm moves over my bracelet. “What is this?” He fingers the beads. “You are not to wear anything but what I give you.” As he speaks, his fingers curl around the bracelet. He yanks hard on it, and I let out a small sound as the beads dig into me. But it doesn’t break.