Des continues to languidly sit in the chair across from me. One eyebrow arches up. “You thought to tell my mate about this alone?”

Nothing about this situation makes any sense. Not the testimony, which I can barely wrap my mind around, and not Des’s unruffled reaction to it.

Mara ignores him. “Can you account for your mate’s whereabouts over the last several evenings?”

Wait, seriously? She wants me to give an alibi for Des?

My eyes are moving between Mara and Des—Mara, who looks like a shark who’s scented blood, and Des, who’s not giving away anything.

“Yes,” I say, my voice unfaltering. “He’s been with me. You’re looking at the wrong man. Janus was the one that took—”

“Desmond was with you the entire night?” Mara probes, talking over me.

My siren stirs at my agitation, wanting out. If I were back on earth, I’d repress her, but here in the Otherworld, where my magic is mostly useless, I don’t have to worry about my power getting out of hand. So I let her out.

My skin begins to shimmer. “Do you really think I would let the King of the Night out of my bed once he was in it?” I say, glamour riding my voice.

I am not one to be interrogated.

Across from me Mara smiles a little, her eyes shrewd.

Glass shatters, interrupting the moment.

A pretty young servant stares at me, her eyes wide, a shattered vase at her feet. She steps closer, glass crunching beneath the soles of her shoes.

Mara rolls her eyes. “Insolent thing,” she says under her breath, “clean that up now,” she orders.

But the servant doesn’t clean up the vase. She’s not listening to the Flora Queen at all. Her eyes are trained on me, completely under my spell.

My dark, seductive power laps beneath my skin.

Finally, someone to bend to my will.

Mara sets down her cup of tea, the vines around her beginning to slither and snap in agitation.

“Do you want a lashing, woman?” she says, her voice turning shrill.

I smile as the servant comes closer, enjoying the power, the control.

“Congratulations, my queen,” Des says. “You’re one of the first fairies to see what my mate can do to humans,” Des says.

Mara glances away from the servant to cast a baffled look at the Bargainer. She then reappraises me, something like reluctant approval in her eyes. Meanwhile, her servant is still heading towards me, her glassy gaze fixed on my face.

I turn to face the human woman. “Clean up the vase you broke, and then return to your normal duties,” I say.

Immediately, the servant turns around, returning to the broken glass and beginning to pick the largest pieces of it up.

“Amazing,” Mara breathes.

I frown as I watch the servant girl, catching a glimpse of the reddened skin near her wrist where she was branded.

Mara did that to her. Marked her.

“How much easier it would be to control them if we had someone like her,” Mara muses. “Are there more of her kind?” she asks Des.

My fingers curve into the arms of my chair.

Human. Slave. Victim. That’s what I once was, what this servant is. And the fairy queen at my side is her captor, her tormentor. She’s the one who deserves my wrath.

I turn to Mara, feeling wild. I stand, the thrill of power coursing through me. Here is an evil to vanquish, a queen to conquer, a soul to break and a body to bleed.

In my periphery I can just make out Des tensing. My unshakeable king is actually on edge for once. How delightful.

My body rolls as I move over to Mara. Slowly, I lower myself onto her lap.

“Do you mind?” I ask as I do so. I don’t care what her answer is.

Her mouth curves into a smile. “You have a mate, enchantress,” she says.

“He’s not protesting.” Yet.

She raises her eyebrows. “Then by all means.”

I can see desire stoking in her eyes. Fairies, I’m coming to find, are a bit more sexually fluid than humans.

I place my hands on either side of her head, boxing her in. I lean in close. “Why do you keep them?” My gaze travels to her neck. Her delicate neck. Such a fragile part of her body. I cannot control this woman, but I can seduce her. I can hurt her.

My nails sharpen, pricking the fabric of her couch. She has no idea that her words will determine what I do next.

“Who?” she asks, her wicked lips forming a perfect “O”.

“Slaves,” I say. “You mark them and keep them. Why?”

A heavy hand snakes under my arm. “That’s enough fun, love,” Des says, hoisting me out of Mara’s lap.

I nearly fight him. I can practically feel her blood between my fingers.

Quieter, he whispers, “Save your vendettas, cherub.” 

Rather than setting me back in my seat, Des settles us both on his, pulling me into his lap. My vengeance is only curbed by the slow strokes of his hand against my side.

Mara’s low-lidded eyes watch us. “Have you heard the story of my sister?” she asks, staring at me contemplatively.

She doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“Thalia Verdana,” she says, “the most powerful Flora heir to be born within this millennia. No great beauty, but what is beauty to power?” Mara’s eyes go distant. “Of course, to Thalia, beauty was everything. She coveted what she didn’t have.”

The Flora Queen’s eyes drift over me and Des. “Of course, one also knows you don’t need beauty if you’ve found love instead—and she found it in a traveling minstrel of all things. At least, that’s what we assumed he was.”

Mara stirs her cup of tea idly. “Our parents were scandalized by the match, but that didn’t stop Thalia from seeing him.

“Did you know fairies can bargain away their power?” Mara says to me. “They can share it, they can gift it, but they cannot bequeath it—death severs all deals.”

She takes in my glowing skin. “He ended up being an enchanter—a fairy who could ensorcell other fairies with a wish and a kiss. Thalia fell under his spell …

She clears her throat. “My parents killed him before he could destroy our kingdom. Of course, by then Thalia was too far gone. She followed him to the Kingdom of Death.

“That’s how I became heir to this kingdom.”

Mara gives us a tight smile. “It has been a long time since I’ve met an enchanter—and never a human one. I find that despite all my reservations, you hold me captivated …” Her eyes flicker with desire as she takes me in.

“Yes, Callie does have that effect on people,” Des says, his voice a touch possessive. “Now what were we talking about?” Des looks first to me, then to Mara. He snaps his fingers. “Ah, yes, now I remember. Mara, you were insinuating that I was behind the recent disappearances.”

She rearranges herself in her seat. “When several witnesses all see the same thing, one has to wonder …”

This is the second time in two days another ruler has cast doubt on Des’s innocence.

I want to lash out again.

“It’s not him,” I growl. The sound that comes out of my mouth is both harsh and melodic. “Janus took me. Either you must cast suspicion on both of these kings or on neither of them.”

The Flora Queen reaches out to one of the vines, and it begins to twine itself up her arm. “None of the other captured women have complained that the Day King has abducted them,” she says. “Only you, the mate of the Night King, have. How do I know you aren’t just protecting him?”

Only Des’s ironclad grip across my waist keeps me from throttling the fae queen.

“Furthermore,” she says, “those captured women have all said that they were taken once they dozed off. Sleep, as you know, is ruled by the Night Kingdom.”

It all leads back to Des. Why does it all lead back to Des?

My skin dims as I consider this worrying thought.

“And yet here we are, sitting and talking as civilized people.” Des leans forward. “You haven’t sanctioned my kingdom, nor kicked me out of the festivities. You haven’t barred me from any part of the celebration, even though I broke the neutrality agreement two nights ago when I fought Janus. Your actions—or lack thereof—don’t strike me as those of a concerned queen.”

The vines around Mara begin to whip about. “Do not presume to know my intentions, Desmond Flynn.” The room fills up with her power, the air nauseatingly thick with the smell of flowers.

Des’s eyes spark. “Send me and my mate away, Mara. We will leave, Solstice can continue, and you can test your theory concerning my guilt,” he challenges, his voice hypnotic.

The Flora Queen’s power still fills the room like a rain cloud poised to break wide open. But rather than unleashing her wrath, Mara appraises Des. “Give me your oath that you are innocent, and this can end,” she says.

The Bargainer, a man who makes half of his living striking deals with fools, doesn’t hesitate now. “I will give you an oath in exchange for one.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mara says, looking affronted.

“I will swear you an oath of innocence, if you, in return, promise me fifty years of an unbreakable alliance between the Flora and Night Kingdom.”

A swell of anger rises at the back of Mara’s eyes, the floral smell once again thickens the air. “You would dare to leverage my good graces?”

“I would have you as an ally, not an enemy.”

And to think that only minutes ago, I was five hot seconds away from opening a can of whoopass on that woman.

Des’s words seem to pacify most of her anger. She leans back in her seat. “Fine.”

Using one arm to still hold me in place, the Bargainer reaches out with his other, and Mara grasps it.

The moment they clasp hands, the air around them wavers, rippling like waves of water.

“I swear to the Undying Gods, I am not behind the disappearances.”

The queen’s body seems to relax. She nods.

“I swear to the Undying Gods on behalf of my kingdom that for fifty years we will ally with the Night Kingdom.”

The moment the words are spoken, the magic rippling around them implodes, sucking itself back into their clasped hands.

And then it’s over.