The Emperor of Evening Stars (The Bargainer Book 3)

by Laura Thalassa

  I glance around me at the colorful fairy lights that are strung up along the walls of the place, then to the crowded room. Friends gather around tables, their eyes a little too all-seeing, and their smiles a bit too crafty.

  Sitting amongst thieves.

  How I’d once dreamed of coming to such a place! All I ever wanted growing up was to see the world and live the lives that I’d read about for so long. Now it feels like I bought myself one of Memnos’s cursed wishes—the kind that give you anything you want, but corrupt the wish so that it becomes a burden rather than a boon.

  I nearly choke on my next swallow of ale when a fae woman in a translucent top wanders into the pub. She sashays rather than walks, her eyes brighter than the stars outside. I can’t look away from her, though I know I should.

  She weaves her way between tables, her fingers skimming along the sticky surfaces. The woman must feel my gaze because her eyes flick to me. She flashes me a smile, and the sight of it is so shocking that I stare a little longer. Back on Arestys, despite my looks and my penchant for getting people what they wanted, I was no woman’s first choice of partner. No one wanted to openly show interest in the weakest fairy on the island. I was always the mistake village girls liked to make when they were feeling brave.

  Before the woman gets to my table, a slick-looking fairy carrying two steins of ale drops into the seat across from me, jolting me out of my reverie.

  He leans forward. “Trust me, you don’t want that kind of company,” he says, jerking his head back to the woman. Over his shoulder he says to her, “Fuck off, Kaelie. This bloke won’t be buying what you have to offer.”

  Buying …?

  The woman’s smile turns to a scowl. “Damnit, Vale, you owe me for that.”

  The pub’s other patrons ignore us. I guess this isn’t a noteworthy altercation in Barbos.

  Vale turns in his seat to look at her. “Piss off,” he says. “He’s got no money and he’s younger than your sons—or are you too blind to see that?”

  Giving Vale a look that could kill the Night King himself, she slips away from us, circling through the tavern until a brawny fairy grabs her by the waist and pull her onto his lap.

  Vale turns back to face me, taking a sip of his drink and making himself comfortable.

  I raise my eyebrows at him.

  He takes in my expression. “Have you never seen a prostitute?”

  No, but that’s beside the point.

  “Why are you sitting here?” I ask.

  He slides his second ale over to me. “You look lonely, brother.”

  I frown. I’m not his brother. My siblings lie in shallow graves across the Night Kingdom, and I buried the last of my family a day ago.

  I eye the stein he passed to me.

  “Go ahead, you can have it,” he says, cajoling me.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  Vale leans back in his seat, the wooden chair creaking. “Company.”

  I cup the mug of ale I purchased. “If company’s what you want, then you should’ve taken Kaelie up on her offer.”

  He lets out a rough laugh. “Aye, if I took Kaelie up on her offer, I’d be scratching my balls for weeks and praying to ye old gods for deliverance.” He pushes the mug towards me a little more. “Drink up.”

  My eyes flick to it, then him. I’m not a babe; I know enough about bargaining to know the moment I take a sip, I’ll be in this man’s debt.

  I push the stein back towards him.

  Leaning forward, he pushes it back. “I have a proposition,” he says.

  “Now you’re propositioning me?” I ask, my brows nudging up again.

  “Quick tongue on you,” Vale says. “That’s good—very good. Listen, I’ve seen your type, and I know wherever home is, you can’t go back to it.”

  I tense a little, my mind replaying the last moments of my mother’s life. My gaze sharpens on Vale; I’m unnerved by how well he can read me.

  “I know you need money,” he adds. “I want to help you.”

  I slide my stein from one hand to the other, passing it back and forth across the gummy table. “No one wants to help me,” I say. “If you knew me better, you’d understand that.”

  Vale looks around and clears his throat. “All right, smartarse, I’ll give it to you straight,” he says, lowering his voice, “I can get you a job—highly illegal—which involves moving goods. You’ll get paid well,” he says.

  Finally, some truth.

  “Are you interested?” he asks.

  My hands still, my mug sliding to a halt. I stare down into my now empty drink, trying to divine my options. But I’m out of them. And if it breaks the Shadow King’s laws, I’m all for it.

  I look up at Vale. “Maybe.”

  254 years ago

  Two hours later Vale leads me to a mansion down the street from the pub. The house is situated along the rim of the island, the back of it facing towards the empty night sky.

  “We’re known around these parts as the Angels of Small Death—or the Brotherhood,” he explains to me. “We’re a band of men who can get the good people of the Night Kingdom certain amenities they might not otherwise be able to come by. And this is our headquarters.” He gestures to the house ahead of us.

  I stare up at the goliath home, its vine-covered walls towering above me, the balmy night air stirring the shallow pools of water and the fronded palms that lead up to it.

  Vale has me lingering outside the mansion for longer than necessary, letting me absorb the impressive wealth around me. I glance at him, my face impassive. All those years of control my mother drilled into me are now coming in handy. Because I am impressed—impressed and out of my depth. I’m just a poor boy from Arestys, whose only exposure to the Otherworld was through my mother’s books. And up until a few days ago, I was a nobody.

  Vale leads me into the house. Inside, the rooms are ostentatious. Every surface is covered in snowy, opalescent stone and carved into intricate designs. Near the ceiling, mini pinpricks of light twinkle from the darkness. Miniature clouds roll between them, passing by a small moon that’s nearly full. It’s obvious that the top of the room has been spelled to look like a dreamscape. This enchantment alone had to have cost a fortune.

  As we snake our way through the house, we pass by several women clad in gold clothes and chains who silently recline on couches.

  I come to a stop when I notice their ears.

  Vale takes a few more steps before he realizes I’m not following.

  I’m still staring at the women. Their eyes languidly move to me, but they don’t budge.

  “They’re …”

  “Human,” Vale finishes for me, coming to my side. I can feel his greedy eyes on me, sensing an opening. “Have you ever tried human flesh?” he asks.

  Of course I haven’t. I’ve never even seen a human; I’ve only heard about them. In Arestys, everyone’s too poor to own slaves. But not in Barbos.

  I was told that humans were coarse, ugly things, but these women don’t look all that different from fae women. They wear thick gold bands around their necks, their wrists, and ankles, the cuffs all linked together by thick, woven gold chains. I’d assumed the chains were fashionable adornments, but now I realize they’re actually shackles.

  The women look how I’ve felt my entire life. But it’s more than what they wear. Their sad eyes pull at that grieving part of me. I understand their expressions, like they’ve lost something precious.

  Vale pats me on the back. “Come.”

  My gut is twisting. I don’t want to leave these women, even though I know I can’t save them. I couldn’t save my mother, and I sure as shit can’t save myself.

  Reluctantly I follow Vale out of the room.

  A minute later we enter a large room made mostly out of a dark stone shot through with veins of gold. Sparking light glows dimly from the sconces along the walls. Stretching out in front of us are several pools full of glowing water. The light from it dances along the walls.
>
  The air is heavy with steam and magic; it hangs in misty ribbons throughout the room and nestles itself in my lungs.

  “It’s imported from Lephys,” Vale says.

  “What is?”

  “The water.” He nods to the luminous liquid.

  I follow his gaze. Several naked couples are tangled together suggestively in the waters, many with their wings out.

  I look away before I can help it.

  “Never seen fairies rut?” Vale asks, his eyes taking in every twitch of mine.

  I force my face into some bland expression. On Arestys, I was cunning. Here I’m an ignorant dustback, an Arestyan with no exposure to the outside world. I hate that. I spent years educating myself on the Otherworld, all to avoid situations like this. It was all wasted effort.

  Vale’s lips stretch into a grin. “We can always change that, my brother. You’ll find that in this line of business, you’ll never be short of partners—willing or otherwise.”

  Or otherwise? My skin crawls. That’s not a partner, that’s a hostage.

  Vale’s grin disappears, and he leads me down the marble pathway that bisects two of the pools.

  At the far end of the room is the largest pool yet, and it’s filled with a single man and dozens of women.

  The man’s long black hair is plaited and fitted with jeweled ornaments.

  … Pirate …

  He leans back along the rim of the pool while the women flock around him.

  My gaze moves from one woman to the next. Some have bare necks and pointed ears while others have rounded ears, their throats collared. More slaves.

  Lazily, the man’s eyes slide from the women to us.

  “What’s this?” he asks, studying me.

  “Hermio,” Vale says, dipping his head. “I found you our newest recruit.”

  I narrow my gaze on Vale, annoyed. “I’ve agreed to nothing,” I say, my attention moving from him to Hermio, the man in the pool.

  The man in the pool raises an eyebrow. “Where did you find him?” he asks Vale.

  “Dead Dragon’s Tavern. Boy was on his last few coppers.”

  My attention slides to Vale. Just how long had he been watching me?

  “Mmmm …” Hermio purses his lips, looking me over, “he’ll do. Get him outfitted and properly broken. I want him on the next job.”

  Properly broken? They’re speaking as though I’m not even present!

  … Many bad things happen here …

  Vale’s hand wraps around my upper arm, and he tries to pull me away. The touch is proprietary, like I’m already his subordinate.

  I won’t be someone else’s agenda, and I’m not fucking falling into line.

  I shrug off the fairy’s hold. “I’m not interested,” I say.

  A human woman glides over to Hermio and begins stroking his hair. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Did Vale not explain the terms of your coming here?” he says.

  I glance at Vale, whose face is expressionless, but I say nothing.

  The mortal woman looks at me from the glowing waters, her eyes hollow. There’s nothing behind them—not fear, not love, not hate. She’s an empty vessel, devoid of dreams and wants.

  The sight is so disturbing that I siphon off a little of my magic, feed it to the darkness, and cast my questions to the shadows.

  … stolen from earth …

  … sold as slaves …

  … His fortune was built on the lives of changelings …

  Their answers sicken me.

  Of course I knew that mortals were trafficked here, but that knowledge had been so far removed from my existence. Now, so soon after my mother’s death, seeing these enslaved, magicless women reminds me of the childhood I endured.

  My magic surges through me, called up by my outrage. My life up until now has been ruined by men like Hermio who use their power to crush those beneath them.

  Why must the strong always hurt the weak?

  Vale’s eyes are on me, taking in my every reaction. I have to tamp my emotions down.

  “Those who are invited here,” Hermio says, “either leave our doors as brothers, or they don’t leave at all.”

  The magic in the room rises, and suddenly, I sense dozens of fae eyes on me from across the room, and I feel the lick of hostile magic at my back. I’m being threatened in a chamber full of lawless fairies.

  My anger and pain roil inside of me.

  Never going to be weak again.

  Giving Hermio and his women one last cursory glance, I turn on my heel and head back down the aisle, towards the exit. On either side of me, fairies watch idly.

  The doors ahead of me slam shut, their thick wooden bars coming down heavily to further blockade them.

  I stop in my tracks.

  I look back over my shoulder at Hermio. “Unbar the doors.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts. “A penniless boy from—let me guess—” his eyes flick over me, “Arestys, judging by the desperate look of your clothing, thinks he can stand up to me?”

  Many of the other fairies in the room are slipping out of the pool, their wings flaring agitatedly.

  Anger and anxiety build beneath my skin. My power begins to leak from me, and the already dim room begins to darken.

  … Yessss …

  Hermio tilts his head. “Now what is this? The poor beggar boy has a bit of magic to him.” He clucks his tongue. “What a waste killing you will be.”

  My magic reaches one of the sparking fairy lights above us. It pulses once, then dims into darkness as the shadows swallow it up.

  … More …

  Another fairy light flickers before snuffing out.

  Hermio waves his hand, and his men take that as a cue. They move towards me, their magic rippling across their skin.

  “Don’t kill him right away,” Hermio says, the corner of his mouth lifting up as he takes me in. “Because he is young and foolish, I’m willing to let him reconsider my offer—after he learns his lesson, of course.”

  My hands begin to tremble as the fairies close in on me. A few of them notice, and they flash me menacing smiles.

  They think I’m afraid of them. Fools. I’m afraid of my own capabilities. My mother taught me how to control my magic, not how to wield it. For all I know, it could either fail me or take out a block of Barbos. It’s a coin toss which it will be.

  The first of Hermio’s men reach me, grabbing my arm.

  Too late for worries now.

  I close my eyes, lean my head back, and release my magic.

  It’s the easiest thing in the world. No, it’s more than that. It’s letting go when you’ve been holding on. I almost sigh as my magic charges out of me.

  Sweet relief.

  The fairy who grasps my arm is the first to be hit by it. He doesn’t have time to scream when my shadowy power rushes over him. It rips him away from me and knocks him to the ground before engulfing him. My magic continues on, moving out like a wave and descending upon the fairies around me. Few have time to scream before my shadows devour them. A distant part of me can feel their bones breaking, their bodies disintegrating, their magic fueling the darkness ever onwards.

  A few fairies are brave enough to throw their magic at me, and I can tell by the force of it that they are giving me all that they got. It dissolves uselessly against the wall of my own magic.

  The men and women who still linger in the water—presumably those people who are here as entertainment rather than muscle—now flee from the pool, moving to the back of the room where Hermio is, their naked bodies glistening with glowing water droplets.

  Not the slaves, I beseech my magic.

  Astoundingly, it does as I ask, parting itself around the mortals as it lays siege to everything else.

  The darkness extinguishes the fairy lights and eats up the illumination coming from the pools. Vale only has an instant to look terrified, and then there is no more Vale, just fairy dust and magical residue.

  Finally, the shadows close
in on Hermio. The leader of the Brotherhood isn’t looking quite so regal as he scrambles out of the pool, turning around only to blast his power at me.

  I’m actually impressed when the hit stops my shadows for a second. It’s not enough to overpower my magic, but it is enough to encourage the kingpin. Hermio throws wave after wave of it at me, each hit weaker than the last.

  I stride towards him, cloaked in my shadows.

  He crouches at the back of the room, naked as the day he was born. “Please—no,” he begs.

  The darkness wants him; they’re practically salivating for that powerful flesh. There’s magic beneath that skin of his and they want to touch it, taste it, feed from it.

  My shadows converge on Hermio from all sides, swallowing him up. He begins to scream—a high-pitched, almost feminine sound—and then it cuts off prematurely.

  The darkness is ravenous, tearing the fairy apart in seconds. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, to satiate its appetite.

  The shadows probe the exits, not ready to stop. They ooze through every crack and crevice they can find.

  It’s too much, the power pouring off of me. My hold is slipping on my own dark magic, and I can’t release it the way I did back in Arestys; it’s not letting me.

  … More, more, more …

  … Let us live …

  “No,” I whisper, beginning to sweat as I fight to reel my power back in. The darkness blows the barred doors off their hinges. In the distance I hear surprised screams.

  “No,” I say again, my body trembling with exertion. “Stop.”

  The shadows blast away another hidden door at the back of the room.

  A rivulet of sweat drips down my cheek. “Stop.”

  The darkness bounds into the surrounding rooms, and the shouts are beginning to build. If I don’t end this now, I won’t be a fairy that wields magic; I’ll be magic that wields a fairy.

  Control yourself, Desmond!

  “Stop!” I roar.

  The billowing darkness freezes. Then, all at once, it rushes back into my body, slamming against me like a leviathan.

  I fall to my knees, choking on the magic.

  By the time I catch my breath, the darkness clears. All that’s left of the bath house’s inhabitants are sparkling piles of ash where fairies once stood and a dozen mortals. Slowly, the slaves lift their heads, taking me in, their bodies shaking.