Apparently, there will be dances every day and night, each one called some fancy name that distinguishes it from the others. There’s the Solar Celebration, the Midsummer Eve Ball, and, oh, my personal favorite, the Fecundity Formal. If that doesn’t make you cringe, then I just don’t know what will.

I’m not exactly surprised by all the balls—I sort of figured as much—but the true horror of a week’s worth of dancing, drinking, and schmoozing with fairies is finally starting to set in.

Not to mention the fact that for seven days straight I’m going to have to wear heels.

Ugh, bane of my existence.

The silver lining is that, being associated with the Kingdom of Night, I’m not required to participate in some of the Solstice dances and mixers hosted during the day. Apparently many Night fae like to sleep during that time, so I’m off the hook as far as official Night King mate duties go.

My shoes click against the stone walkway as Des, his retinue, and I all enter the Flora Kingdom’s royal palace.

I touch my hair for the millionth time, oddly self-conscious that the night sky now glitters from it. At the moment, I feel like the cosmos personified, my dress tonight the deep midnight blue of the dark heavens.

We head down flight after flight of stairs, and the farther we go, the more claustrophobic I feel.

Just how far down is this ballroom?

The answer: far enough to make my already sore ass even sorer.

When we finally reach the bottom, the room we walk into utterly takes my breath away. It might be underground, but it doesn’t feel that way.

Intricate, soaring arches hold up the cathedral ceilings, the pale stone faceted. The pillars spread throughout the room are carved into images of fairy maidens, flowers strewn in their hair.

Hundreds of glass lanterns hang from the walls and from several enormous candelabra, the dripping candles illuminating the room in bright, flickering light.

Most surfaces are covered with plants and flowers, some arranged in pots, others growing up the various walls. More ferns cover the food-laden tables that line the sides of the great ballroom.

In the very middle of the room is an enormous tree, its trunk extending all the way to the ceiling, where its canopy spreads out. From it, petals of some strange, fae flower rain down on us.

Des sees me staring at the tree. “It’s said that the first Queen of Flora is buried beneath that tree. That rather than dying, she chose to be buried alive so that her body and soul could continue to nourish her land and people for thousands of years.”

“That is fucking hardcore,” I say.

The giant tree, the fae maidens carved into stone, the high cathedral ceilings … I spin in a circle. “It’s just like your drawings,” I breathe.

Back at Peel Academy, Des had drawn me several pictures of the Otherworld. At least one was of this great hall, I’m sure of it.

“You remember that?” he says, surprised.

“Of course.” I remember everything. “I was desperate to know about your life.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but he doesn’t need to. It’s all in his expression.

It’s yours to take.

“Dark night,” one of the guests murmurs to her companion as they pass by us.

That one little sentence interrupts the moment Des and I were having. A laugh bursts out of me, and the Bargainer’s lips spread into a secretive grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Little do those fairies know that the man next to me is responsible for the unusually dark evening.

Des pulls me in close, the action not going unnoticed. For the second day in a row, we hold the room’s attention. It’s not as obvious tonight, more like something I feel rather than see, their gazes warming my skin. I imagine there’s something particularly alluring about the King of the Night, the ruler of secrets, sex, dreams and violence, enjoying a human.

Des runs a finger along my exposed collarbone. “Have you noticed?” he asks.

“Noticed what?”

Des’s eyes flick across the room. “The wings.”

I turn my attention to the fairies around us.

He’s right.

Just like in Somnia, there are several individuals with their wings out. Not many, but definitely more than last night, and then the fairies were toasted.

It’s nearly an hour after we enter the ballroom before Mara makes her appearance, a group of men around her, none of them the Green Man.

The sight is unsettling, and I can’t quite put my finger on why until, a few seconds later, she cups the chin of one of the men and kisses him.

My eyebrows hike up.

“The queen’s harem,” Des explains.

So fae queens have harems too.

“But she has a mate …” I say, my eyes riveted to her.

Today, her dress is a vibrant scarlet color, her bodice cinched with gold ribbon. Her lips are blood red, and they look particularly savage when she smiles.

“She does.” Des grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing me one of them.

Distractedly, I take it. “But I assumed …”

I had assumed that soulmates couldn’t sleep with other people, but what had I been doing all those years Des and I were apart? Just because my heart couldn’t move on didn’t mean I avoided dating other men—or being intimate with them.

Des is gracious enough not to mention this. Instead the two of us spend several more seconds staring at Mara.

“What does the Green Man think of this?” I ask.

Des lifts a shoulder. “I imagine he’s not too keen about sharing his mate. But she’s the queen, and he’s a coward.”

Ouch.

Before either of us can continue, we hear rhythmic stomping just outside the hall, coming from the staircase leading down here.

Ever so slowly, the room quiets, hundreds of gazes going to the huge double doors that lead into the ballroom.

The echoing footfalls quiet, and the doors to the ballroom are thrown open. Two rows of fae soldiers wearing uniforms of gleaming gold file into the room, their movements choreographed and precise.

Eventually they stop and pivot, creating a makeshift aisle of sorts. Another uniformed fairy heads down the aisle, pausing at the end of it.

“It is my eminent honor to present, from the radiant heavens above, His Majesty Janus Soleil—the King of Day!” he announces.

I cover my eyes against the brightness that flares at the entrance of the ballroom as someone strides down the aisle, coming to a full stop in front of the soldiers. It takes several seconds for the glare to die away.

When it does …

All I see is golden hair, tan skin, and eyes the clear blue color of Caribbean waters.

My flute of champagne slips from my hand, shattering against the ground.

It breaks whatever spell has been cast over the room. Fairies turn from the fae king to stare at me, their frowns deepening when they realize that it’s the human, the one who shouldn’t be here, that’s causing the commotion.

I’m too distracted to care, my gaze pinned to the fairy.

The King of Day.

I begin to shake, my mind screaming, screaming.

Des moves his hand, and under his magic the glass pieces itself back together, the champagne refilling into the cup. Surreptitiously, he looks between me and the man who was, only seconds ago, glowing like the sun.

“He took me,” I whisper. “He was the one that took me. From your house. He took me to Karnon.”

The person who delivered me to my attacker, the person who could very well be the Thief of Souls himself, is another fae king.

I feel more than a little nauseous.

Des’s gaze is on me for a hot second, and then, in the blink of an eye, Des disappears, both of the champagne flutes he held a second ago falling once more to the ground. They shatter a second later, glass and bubbly wine soaking the floor and the hem of my dress.

Des reappears in front of Janus, the air around him cloaked in shadow, his talon-tipped wings splayed out.

Shadows billow about the room, beginning in the far corners and creeping between fairies’ legs like some dark, sinister fog.

The room is still silent, still frozen when Des grabs the King of Day by the collar and cocks his arm back. His fist slams into Janus’s face with a meaty smack, the sound reverberating.

Whatever strange reverie overtook the room, that one single action breaks the spell. The hall erupts into shouts, and people begin to move.

Des’s arm is like a sledgehammer, pummeling the Day King over and over again. Janus’s uniformed soldiers close in on Des, while Night Kingdom soldiers run into the fray.

Before I know it, soldiers have turned on soldiers, guests on guests. The room is suddenly in an uproar as fairies begin fighting each other. The Fauna fae are pointing to me, and several of them begin to weave through the crowd, heading in my direction.

Awww, shit, I almost forgot about the little vendetta the Fauna Kingdom had out for me and the Bargainer.

A little distance away, Malaki, Temper, and several Night Kingdom soldiers are now trying to shove their way towards me.

In all directions, wings are unfurling, each more beautiful than the last. They shimmer in all sorts of colors, and it would be breathtaking if it didn’t mean that hundreds of fairies were losing their shit.

The cavernous room no longer feels quite so large, and ho, am I developing a massive case of claustrophobia.

I did this. I set Des off. And even though the cruel, vicious part of me savors his retribution, the rest of me is horrified that I set these events in motion.

I begin pushing my way through the crowd, determined to get to the two kings.

If anyone is going to have their vengeance, it will be me, my siren purrs.

Fairies are taking to the air, ripping at each other. Meanwhile, Des and the King of Day are still tussling, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night.

The Fauna fairies are almost to me, and the Night guards coming for me are still too far away to offer me any sort of protection.

I’ll have to take these fairies on my own. The thought sends a shiver of delight down my spine, and I feel myself beginning to smile.

My nails are on the brink of sharpening when Mara’s voice cuts through the noise. “There will be no death in my house!”

All but Des and Janus, the King of Day, pause, no one willing to cross the queen that’s hosting them.

The Bargainer doesn’t appear to give a flying fuck what Mara thinks. He has the King of Day pinned beneath him, and he keeps hammering into the man’s face.

“Desmond Flynn, King of the Night, by law of my kingdom, I order you to stop,” Mara’s voice booms.

Arm pulled back, Des hesitates, his breathing heavy and ragged. His hair, which he’d previously worn combed away from his face, now hangs in wild tendrils. I’ve seen my mate when he’s all coiled rage, but I have only rarely seen him like this, messy with his anger. There’s something so very … raw about it.

Reluctantly, he drops his fist, his breathing heavy. Leaning in close to Janus, he whispers something into the King of Day’s ear, and then he stands, his eyes moving about the crowd. They still when they land on me.

He looks like a hurricane contained in a man. He has speckles of blood on his face and a small line of it at the corner of his mouth. But it’s the leashed fury in his eyes and the deep shadows swathing the room that are the true indications of how upset he is.

The King of Day pulls himself up to his feet, giving Des a murderous look.

Mara begins to clap, and the attention suddenly swivels to her. She swaggers across the room towards the men, the crowd parting for her.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she says, “I present to you, the first mate challenge.”

Mate challenge?

Everyone else in the room stirs, their assessing gazes moving between me and the men. Mara follows their lead, her eyes finding mine. She smiles at me, her lustrous lips making her face look equal parts lovely and wicked. The rest of her face is flinty with anger.

“Congratulations go to the King of the Night and his siren mate,” she says. “Now, everyone, sheath your excitement and please, carry on as before.”

I don’t quite understand how she does it, but Mara manages to bring this place back from the edge of chaos. One by one, fairies’ wings are disappearing and people are smoothing down their rumpled outfits. While a few dirty looks pass between the guests—several thrown my way by some disgruntled Fauna fairies—conversation and bits of laughter begin to bloom across the hall.

Des wipes the blood off his mouth, glowering at the King of Day, who glowers right back. But Mara isn’t done with them. The Queen of Flora leads the two kings away from the room and out a side door.

My heart stutters a bit at the sight. Without Des, I’m acutely aware that I’m a lamb in a den of lions.

“Get out of my way. Get out of my way—if you step on my dress, I swear to the saints you’re not going to have toes.” Even amongst the rising noise of the crowd, Temper’s voice carries over to me. “Who do I have to cunt punch for a little room? Move!”

Malaki follows on her heels, his face set into severe lines.

“What in the ever loving hell was that?” Temper says when she gets to my side, glancing back at where the two fairies tussled not a minute ago.

I shake my head, my throat working.

“Are you okay?” Malaki asks, coming to stand next to Temper.

I nod, swallowing. Now that the fight’s over and the adrenaline is subsiding, it hits me—the man who took me is a fae king, and he’s here. I’m going to have to be around the King of Day for the rest of this visit. I might even have to interact with him. The thought sends a wave of nausea and nerves through me.

“I’ll say this for the Bargainer,” Temper says, “he throws a mean right hook. That pretty-boy king went down like a boner in church.”

Temper, ever the eloquent one.

“What’s a mate challenge?” I ask Malaki.

He frowns. “If a rival fairy disputes a bond, he or she can challenge a mate to a duel. It’s an old tradition, mostly used to either show off the worth of the mate being contended over, or as an insult if an outside fairy doesn’t think one of the mates is worthy of the other. Most of the time it’s simply a way for mates—usually male ones—to work off their aggression and establish their claim.”

Have I mentioned that fae traditions are weird? Because they so are.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” a familiar voice says at my back, shaking me from my thoughts. The sound of it raises all sorts of pleasant goosebumps along my skin.

Aetherial.

I turn just in time to see the fae soldier, dressed from head to foot in a buttery gold uniform, a sun emblem emblazoned on her breast. She’d languished in the cell next to me when we were Karnon’s prisoners.

“Aetherial!” It’s shocking to see her in the flesh, her angular face glowing and her blonde hair cropped short. I’d been blindfolded when I was escorted in and out of the cell, so I had only my imagination to go on when I talked to her. She’s taller and leaner than I imagined, her lips soft and pouty when I’d expected them to be thin and fierce.

Probably breaking all sorts of good etiquette, I pull her into a hug.

Rather than edging away, she hugs me back. When she does eventually release me, it’s to take me in.

“I have to admit, cleaned up, you’re even lovelier than the few glimpses I caught of you,” she says. Her eyes move to my wings. “Though I don’t remember those. Has Des given you the wine?”

“The wine?” I furrow my brows. “No, this—” my voice catches, “this was Karnon.” I swear his ghost must be here tonight because the dead king seems to be everywhere and in everything.

“Karnon managed that?” she raises her eyebrows, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

I want to ask her what she means by that, but an even bigger question plagues me. “How did you … ?”

“Survive?” she fills in.

I nod. Last I remember, she’d been all but catatonic.

She shrugs. “Apparently I wasn’t beyond the point of no return when they found me. I hear I have your mate to thank for that.” Her eyes drift to where she last saw Des. “He seems … intense.”

I let out a hollow laugh.

“I heard,” she continues, “that after he was finished with Karnon, there wasn’t even a spare tooth left of the man.”

Unwelcome memories of that final encounter flit through the back of my mind.

“I was going to try to thank him tonight,” she admits, her features hardening. “I’ve had dreams of gutting that horned bastard.”

“Who’s your friend?” Temper, who’s been hanging on the periphery of our conversation, now inserts herself into it, sounding like a jealous lover.

“Aetherial, Temperance—Temperance, Aetherial,” I say, making introductions.

Aetherial takes Temper’s hand. “You must be the sorceress everyone’s talking about.” She brushes a kiss to the back of her hand. “Enchanted.”

There’s nothing that takes the wind out of Temper’s sails quite like a little flattery.

“Who are you?” Temper asks, a touch nicer than she would’ve otherwise been.

“A fellow former captive,” Aetherial says.

Our conversation trails off when the noise in the room dies down. Dozens of fae look to the side of the room. I follow their gazes in time to see Mara, Des, and Janus filing out of the side door they’d previously entered, Des wearing a dark expression.

I tense when I see the King of Day behind him, my palms beginning to sweat. He might not have abused me, but he delivered me to my abuser. In my mind, there’s hardly a distinction between the two.

“I need to get back to my duties,” Aetherial says, excusing herself. “Temperance, a pleasure to meet you.” She dips her head. “Callie, I hope to see you again soon.” And then she melts back into the crowd, working her way back to the very man that made it possible for her and I to meet.

As soon as Des catches sight of me, he disappears, reappearing at my side. His wings flare wide around me, pushing out everyone nearby—including Temper.

“I will go to war with him for this,” he growls. “I swear it to you.”

It takes me a second to catch up with the trajectory of Des’s thoughts. War. Janus. The Kingdom of Day. Revenge for my abduction.

“I won’t stop until I’ve toppled his throne and captured him,” Des continues. “I’ll imprison him in the Catacombs of Memnos, where my monsters will cut out his innards and feed them to hi—”

I press my hand against Des’s mouth.

Holy shit. I mean, ho-ly shit.

“Okay, so that’s super vivid, and I really appreciate where this is all coming from—”

He removes my hand. “Clearly I’ve been too soft and you too lenient if you don’t believe—”

Hand back on his mouth. “—but I’d really just like to get through the week without any other incidents,” I finish.

This time when Des pulls my hand away from his lips, he’s gentler, clasping my hand between his. “I cannot undo what’s been done, but I want to make things right for you.” His voice drops low. “I don’t want you to ever have to go through that experience again.”

He’s legit going to make me choke up.

“I won’t,” I say, my voice hoarse.

It’s an empty promise. Neither of us were able to stop my abduction from happening once before, who’s to say we could stop it from happening again? But sometimes you just need to make those stupid, empty promises for the benefit of everyone. “I can deal with the Day King for a week.”

A blatant lie because I’m pretty sure I can’t. I’m a chicken when it comes to facing down the bad men who’ve victimized me.

But somehow I’m just going to have to deal—both for Des’s sake and for mine.