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.
Chapter 37
“Enjoying yourself, slave?”
I spin, looking around the Flora Queen’s dark forest for the man who spoke. The sacred oaks around me shiver in the night air.
That voice …
So familiar.
But there’s no one here in the forest, no one but me.
I rub my arms, not sure how I myself ended up in the queen’s sacred oak grove.
No matter, I’ll just fly back to my room.
At my back, my wings open, beating a few times to loosen up.
I feel something drip onto my arm. Another wet drop splats against my hair.
I lift my forearm to my eyes. In the darkness, I can barely make out the fluid, only that it’s dark.
Dark and warm.
I suck in a breath.
Blood.
Another drop hits the crown of my head. I glance above me at the latticework of branches. The bark is oozing blood, and the longer I look, the heavier it flows down the trees. I can hear drops of it hitting the leaves of the forest floor. It sounds like the beginning of a storm, the blood first coming in soft patters, then faster and faster. The droplets hit my skin and my clothes.
“Life and death are such intimate lovers.” A voice cuts through the darkness. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
A man steps out of the woods, his irises and plaited hair as dark as the night.
He’s everything I ever imagined a fairy to be before I met Des. The upturned eyes, the pouty, expressive mouth, the straight, narrow nose, and pointed ears. He has the sinister beauty I’ve read about in fairy tales.
The man’s lips curve ever so slightly, his eyes brightening in that manic way that fae eyes do.
“Kill her,” another man says from behind me.
That voice! So painfully familiar. Any other time I’d whip around, but my gut is telling me that the true menace is staring me down, and I will not turn my back on him.
“Her soul is not mine to take,” the black-eyed man says, still staring at me with a dark intensity.
I feel the bite of a blade at my throat, and from the corner of my eye I catch sight of a lock of white blond hair.
“You’re right,” the familiar voice at my back says. “It’s mine.”
All at once the realization slams into me.
Des. It’s Des’s voice at my back.
“Enjoy each small death you have left,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m coming for you.”
And then he slits my throat open.
I gasp awake, my body tangled in sheets, a strong set of arms around me.
Predawn light filters into the room through the window, casting everything in shades of blue. It’s so very different from the darkness of my dream.
I glance up, into Des’s soft silver eyes, and my heart nearly stops.
My ear still tingles where he spoke to me seconds ago, and I swear I still feel the phantom prick of pain across my throat from his blade.
His eyes widen just a smidge at my reaction. “Cherub, are you … afraid of me?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, not wanting to answer.
It was just a dream, and yet … and yet it felt real.
What had Des told me a while back?
Dreams are never just dreams.
He searches my face a bit more. “You are.”
Des runs his hand over my bracelet. “Why are you so scared of me?” The moment he asks the question, Des’s magic settles over my shoulders, and I don’t need to look down at my wrist to know that yet another bead is now missing from it.
I get up from the bed, dragging a bedsheet with me.
“It was just a dream,” I answer.
Not good enough. The magic is still there, still pressing down on me.
“And?” Des says, also aware I’m under the grip of his magic.
I clutch my throat. “And in it, you killed me.” The answer is good enough to release me from Des’s power.
He lounges back in our bed, his face brooding. My eyes drift to his sleep-tousled hair and his bare chest. It’s an odd sensation, to be both frightened by and drawn to someone at the same time, but I am.
“Callie,” he says, seeing me fighting my impulses, “come here.”
I hesitate, and I swear that momentary pause breaks something in my mate.
His voice drops lower. “It’s okay. I would never—” His voice cuts off. “I would never harm you,” he finishes.
And now I feel like a royal schmuck. I know he would never harm me. He’s that one part of my soul that lives outside my body.
I pad over to him. He gets up from the bed, all six plus feet of him staggering, intimidating.
He steps up to me, then folds me into a hug. The presence that, in my dream had felt so hateful now feels immensely loving. The muscles that were used to kill me are now here comforting me.
“Tell me everything about your dream,” he says.
And I do.
By the time I’m done, my
unshakable mate looks … worried.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shakes his head, frowning. “Nothing good. Normal dreams I’d be able to wake you from. These ones … these ones don’t release you until they’re ready. I’d assumed I’d lost my touch for waking you up, but now I wonder …”
I search his face. “What?”
“Controlling dreams is a Night Kingdom trait. It’s possible that someone’s targeting you while you sleep, perhaps the same someone who’s taking soldiers.”
He’s coming for you.
“The Thief of Souls,” I whisper.
Chapter 38
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.”
A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer Book 2) Page 24
