Who exactly is the Thief of Souls? And why would he invade my dreams? That’s what I wonder as the two of us head to Mara’s throne room.

If my dreams are more than just idle nightmares, then who was the black haired man? And was dream-Des anything other than an illusion meant to scare me? Or could it be possible that my dreams have nothing at all to do with the disappearances?

All these questions are making my head hurt.

Des and I head into the Flora palace, the walls awash with living, blooming plants. Part of Solstice entails sitting in on the Queen of Flora in her throne room as she holds an audience with her subjects.

“What Night fae, aside from you, has enough power to enter my dreams?” I whisper as we head through the castle.

“Many.”

Er, that’s unsettling.

Des shakes his head. “But,” he continues, “none should have enough power to keep me from waking you. If I had any living siblings, perhaps they’d be strong enough to perform that kind of magic, but my father killed them all off.”

That’s interesting to know—that power moved through bloodlines.

“And your father?” I ask. “Could he—”

“He’s dead,” Des says, his face stoic.

Whelp, guess that takes care of that.

I quiet as the two of us enter Mara’s throne room and join the throngs of other fairies.

The throne room is the same place we met the queen when we first arrived. I look around it again, taking in the vaulted ceilings, the vine-covered walls, and the chandeliers with their dripping candles as Des leads me down the aisle.

My stomach drops when I see Janus at the end of the room, standing off to the side of the queen’s throne, looking like the morning sun.

How does he factor into this mystery?

As soon as the two kings see each other, I feel the tension in the room ratchet up. Others must sense it too because fairies are starting to glance around. The air begins to thicken with magic, making it hard to breathe.

This is what happens when two juggernauts come together.

I touch Des’s arm. “It’s okay.”

If only I was half as brave as my words. I steel my spine.

I am someone’s nightmare, I tell myself.

Sure, that someone is probably the next macaroon I come across, but hey, we all got to start somewhere.

We end up standing near the King of Day, much to the frustration of both Des and Janus.

Janus isn’t the only fairy who has beef with us. A dozen different Fauna fae sit or stand throughout the throne room, and most of them are throwing me and the Bargainer dirty looks.

Guess they still haven’t gotten over the fact that Des offed their king …

It doesn’t help that the whole shebang starts nearly an hour later, and even after it does, it’s been about as interesting as watching paint dry.

The only saving grace is Des, who’s busy whispering secrets in my ears about the audience members who are sitting in the pews.

“He likes to wear his wife’s clothing.”

“She’s sleeping with the entire royal guard, and everyone knows it except her husband.”

“She has a servant who she secretly calls ‘Daddy,’ and she regularly has him punish her.”

He leans in again now. “All morning I’ve been fantasizing about spreading those soft thighs of yours and fucking you until you’re begging me to come.”

I stagger a little on my feet, and my siren nearly bursts forth; it’s all I can do to keep her caged.

Mara’s eyes flick over to us before returning to the subject in front of her.

I give him an incredulous look.

He decides to dirty talk with me now?

“Just making sure you’re still paying attention,” he says.

From behind us, a side door opens and Malaki, along with two Night soldiers step up to Des, Malaki leaning in to whisper something into Des’s ear.

The Bargainer nods, then leans into me. “Another soldier has disappeared.”

Another one?

“I need to step out briefly to talk to my men. Malaki will be here in my stead until I return.”

He kisses me briefly on the lips, and then he’s gone, retreating back through the side door with the Night soldiers.

I blink at Malaki, who gives me a tight smile before openly glaring at Janus.

Mara excuses her latest subject, leaning back against her throne, her fiery hair cascading down her chest. Today white roses are tangled in those bright locks of hers.

Next to her, the Green Man’s gaze flicks to me, his gaze intense.

Gah, that fairy is unnerving.

The double doors at the far end of the room open, and a manacled woman is brought in. Her arms are exposed, and I catch sight of a branded leaf peeking out from beneath her shackles.

Human.

Her eyes are swollen, but her face is dry and her chin is defiantly lifted. All eyes watch her as she’s led down the aisle, her footsteps and those of her guards echoing throughout the room.

Up until now, the fairies who’ve had an audience with the queen have been nobles squabbling over petty matters. This, however, I can already tell will be different.

When she comes to the edge of the dais, her fae guards force her to her knees.

“What are her crimes?” Mara asks lazily.

“She was caught fornicating with a fairy,” one of the guards reports.

Wait, seriously?

Homegirl is in shackles because she boned a dude with wings?

“Witnesses?” Mara asks, bored.

“Two,” the guard says.

The two witnesses are brought forward, both human judging from their rounded ears. Each, in turn, attests to the fact that they caught the servant out on the palace grounds playing hide the salami with a soldier.

In the middle of the second testimony, the human girl begins to silently sob.

I shift on my feet. This whole situation feels wrong to me. This woman is on trial because she did exactly what Des and I have been doing.

Next to me, Malaki clears his throat uncomfortably.

He, too, is guilty of what this woman’s on trial for.

“Do you have any words to say in your defense?” Mara asks the human woman once the witnesses leave.

“Please,” she says, her voice roughened with tears, “he grabbed me. I tried to push him away, but he overpowered me …”

Oh God.

My blood runs cold. I can feel my nausea rise, my stomach twisting sickly at the woman’s words.

This doesn’t sound like some illicit tryst in the woods. This sounds like rape. And now this woman is getting punished for it.

“Where is this man?” Mara asks.

The bone-deep sickness that consumed me a moment ago is transforming into something hot and uncomfortable.

Do something.

“He’s on his way,” the guard says.

“Very well.” Mara rearranges her skirts. “Give the slave twenty lashings, and if she’s conceived, abort the offspring.”

“No.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken until all the occupants of the throne room are staring at me.

Shit, alright, I’m doing this.

“I beg your pardon?” Mara looks half skeptical, half amused.

“No one is hurting this woman,” I say, stepping forward.

I can feel my power building beneath my skin. My body doesn’t illuminate, but I can feel my magic right there. I didn’t go through hell just to watch something like this happen all over again to another woman.

Mara’s eyes flick to Malaki. “General,” she says, “handle your king’s mate.”

My hands fist, the siren stirring restlessly. She’s not even addressing me, like I’m beneath her notice.

The room’s attention swivels from me to Malaki.

He folds his arms across his chest. “No.”

A ripple of whispers rise from the crowd.

My gaze finds Malaki’s, and I find it hard to breathe. Des’s oldest friend is putting himself on the line for me.

Mara raises an eyebrow. Turning from both of us, she announces to her men, “Proceed with the punishment as planned. Bring the headsman out.”

A fairy peels away from the wings of the room, approaching the dais with a whip in hand.

That sick sensation rises in me all over again.

“Mara, you cannot do this,” I say.

Another wave of whispers spreads through the room, even as the Flora Queen ignores me.

The headsman approaches the girl, centering himself behind her. Someone else brings in a curved bench of sorts, and the guards on either side of the servant now force her body to bow over the bench, locking her cuffs at the base of it so she’s completely restrained, her back bared to the headsman and the crowd beyond him. I can hear her sobs and see her back shaking.

The headsman unravels the whip, and oh God, oh God, this cannot be real.

The metal tip of the whip glints in the room, and it’s that one detail that forces me into action.

I’m moving, the fierce need to protect this woman singing through me. Now my skin begins to glow, and I can hear the dark, whispered thoughts of my siren.

Spill their blood, make them pay. Protect the girl.

I push my body between the human woman’s and the headsman’s.

“Touch her and you’ll regret it,” I say, my voice just as savage as it is melodic.

If I didn’t have the room’s attention before, I certainly had it now.

“For the sake of the Undying Gods, Callypso,” Mara says, finally addressing me, “remove yourself.”

“No.”

Malaki takes a step forward, presumably to join me.

Mara’s hand snaps up to stop him. “Ah-ah,” she says. As she speaks, the vines on the wall behind Malaki slither up and around him, shackling him in place. It’s the first real sign that I’ve pissed off the Flora Queen. “If Callypso is to be a ruler one day,” Mara says, her gaze returning to me, “then she can fight her own battles. Can’t you, enchantress?”

Both Mara and the Green Man watch me with fevered expressions, lapping up my anger, waiting for me to react.

I stare at her, regretful that I didn’t rip out her throat when I had a chance.

“Anyone who hurts this woman will have to go through me,” I say to the room.

Mara grins, the expression malevolent. “So be it.” She flicks her wrist. “Headsman, carry out the punishment.”

Behind me, the headsman shifts nervously. I hear the slick sound of the whip unraveling, and the startled gasps of the audience.

Smoldering anger burns low in my belly as I drop to my knees, my hands going to the woman’s shackles. She stares at me with wide, red-rimmed eyes as I work at the locks.

Fuck, I need a key.

The headsman takes position behind me, giving a few practice cracks of the whip.

I quake when I realize that I’m not going to be able to release this woman in time. These chains need a key, and the key is in the pockets of soldiers too far away and too unwilling to help. My only ally, Malaki, is being restrained. I’m on my own, and if I leave this woman, she will be whipped.

There’s fire in my soul and poison in my veins.

If my glamour worked, I would make every last fairy who stood idly by pay. But all I have is my body and my beliefs.

Making a split second decision, I drape myself over the woman, my winged back now exposed to the headsman.

She’s shaking with her fear; it only fuels my vengeance.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” I whisper, my voice ethereal.

I hear the headsman step back. Beyond him, Malaki is shouting.

I look up at Mara, my wrath in my eyes.

You will pay.

I’m still staring at her when the snap of the whip echoes throughout the room. I feel the laceration a split second later.

With a sickening crunch, the delicate bones of my wings break under the blow. I gasp as pain floods my system. I can barely see through it.

Several bloody feathers float to the floor.

I have to tighten my grip on the shaking woman beneath me to keep myself between her and the headsman when I hear him draw back his arm again.

Beneath me, the servant is still shaking.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, glamour thick in my voice. I’m not going to let them get to her.

I hear the whip hiss through the air once more. This time, when it splits my flesh and crushes bone, I can’t hold back my scream, the sound horrifyingly harmonic.

I feel warm blood drip down my back as more feathers fall to the floor.

Twenty lashes. Eighteen more to endure.

At this rate, I will have no wings by the time the headsman is done with me.

Through my pain, I begin to laugh, feeling the horrified gazes of the crowd around me.

Isn’t that what I wanted? To be rid of my wings?

Suddenly, the once brightly lit room darkens. Leaves curl up and vines retreat, as though they’re repelled by the shadows. Darker and darker the room grows. The vines binding Malaki now dry up and waste away, allowing him to break his bonds.

The crowd was silent before, but now they’re quiet the way dead things are.

I hear the whip hiss through the air a third time.

It snaps as it strikes flesh, and I flinch, waiting for the pain. It never comes.

I glance up, and there Des is, the end of the whip in his fist, a line of blood sliding from his palm and down his wrist. He yanks the weapon out of the headman’s hand, tossing it aside.

“What is the meaning of this?” he says, his voice deceptively engaging. He spins in a circle, looking about the crowd. His power is filling the room, the space growing darker by the second, and the once blooming plants are now shriveling and dying.

I slide off of the human woman’s body, slumping to the side. I can’t move either of my wings; it feels like they’re one giant, open wound.

“What grand fun you all have been having while I’ve been away,” Des says to the room, his gaze lingering on Mara and the Green Man, both who are still seated on their thrones, “allowing my mate to be flayed alive.”

He is my vengeance. He is my violence. He is winged death come to deliver all these fairies to their fates. I nearly smile.

“Malaki,” he says, “take stock of who’s here. Make sure the Lord of Nightmares sends them his regards.”

“Gladly,” Malaki replies, shucking off the last of the dead vines that once bound him.

“And you—” Des turns to the headsman, his footfalls echoing ominously in the room as he approaches him, “you stupid fool. What were you thinking? Surely you know the rules: an injury deliberately inflicted on a fairy can be avenged by their mate.”

Des grabs the man’s arm, twisting it behind his back. He leans in close. “And I’m avenging.”

It doesn’t matter that it’s Solstice and there’s a neutrality agreement. The Bargainer is out for blood.

For the third time in that many minutes I hear the sickening snap of breaking bones as Des shatters the headsman’s arm. He doesn’t stop there, either. He breaks both of the man’s arms, and then his legs. In between blows, he whispers things into the headsman’s ear, and they must be horrible, for the fairy cries louder in response to them than he does the pain.

Just then, the double doors open, and a man with pointed ears is led inside by two Flora guards. Unlike the human woman dragged in earlier, this fae wears no cuffs.

All three of their steps falter at the sight in front of them—me with my bloody, broken wings, the mangled headsman, and ruthless Des, who looms over the fairy. And then there’s the captive room that neither speaks nor moves as they watch everything unfold.

“Who is this?” Des asks, peering at the fae man being escorted in.

My voice is entirely human when I respond, “That’s the man who abused this woman.” At least, I’m pretty sure that’s who it is. They said they were bringing him in.

Desmond glances at me for several seconds, and I can see how hard it is for him to make eye contact. Every moment he takes me in like this, with my wings bashed in, his fury and hatred seem to double. His gaze goes to the shackled woman next to me, and he must understand a little of what's going on, though he missed the trial itself.

Finally his eyes cut to the fairy being escorted in.

There are few beings that hate crimes against women as much as I do, but Des might be one of them.

The Bargainer stalks forward and grabs the man by the neck. The guards around Des protest, their gazes darting to Mara. But if they think she’ll intercede, they are sorely mistaken. The Flora Queen looks content to let the events play out as they will.

Des pulls the fairy in close, again whispering something into his latest target’s ear. Whatever Des says has a sobering effect on the man. Even dozens of feet away and distracted by pain, I notice the fairy’s eyes widen and his face pale at whatever my mate is saying.

And then Des begins dragging him past the guards and towards the dais. The Bargainer all but throws the fairy to the floor in front of Mara’s throne.

“Tell your queen what you intend,” he demands.

The fairy mumbles something, his head bowed.

“Louder.”

“I will take the slave’s remaining lashes as punishment,” he says.

Mara leans forward and places her chin in her hand. “As punishment for what precisely?”

I’m not sure whether Mara’s confused about what this man did to the woman, or if she’s just toying with him.

“For slee—” The fairy chokes, his words cutting off. I’ve experienced the sensation enough to know just what—or rather who—is behind it.

I glance at Des, who stands over him, his arms crossed and his jaw locked. Dangerous beauty—that’s what he is.

The fairy tries again. “For having se—” He begins to stutter, avoiding the one word he’s going to be forced to say.

Five seconds later, he gives up the fight. “For … raping her.”

The previously silent room now breaks out into scandalized whispers.

Mara raises her hand. “Silence!” she says, quieting the room.

Darkness sweeps across the hall, snuffing out candles, choking the life out of the plants growing along the walls.

Des levels his attention on Mara. “The only thing—the only thing—saving you from death is our oath,” he says, his voice quiet.

With those final words, Des stalks back to me, his wings fanning out behind him menacingly. With his heavy boots and massive frame, he looks like some dark prince that crawled out of the abyss.

Oh so carefully he scoops me up and strides down the aisle and out of the room with me in his arms.