A Strange Hymn
Page 10

“One of them?” I repeat dumbly.
“This one is where many of the realm’s official documents are kept. The main library is on the eastern grounds of the palace.”
I can’t wrap my mind around the sheer magnitude of that.
He leads me to a table, and one of the chairs magically slides out for me. Des takes a seat across from me, and for a second he just appraises me. When he looks at me like that, I feel acutely exposed.
“What?” I finally say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
He gives me a soft smile. “My mother would have loved you.”
Just saying those words, he’s invited ghosts into this place. I barely remember my own mother, and I don’t have any memories of her being especially loving to me. It’s a beautiful gift to imagine that Des’s mother might’ve loved me.
“You think so?” I finally say.
“I know so.” He says it so steadfastly that my one objection—that I’m human—dies before it ever leaves my lips.
Before I can ask more on the subject, Des lifts his hand and flicks his wrist. Off in the distance, I hear the sound of paper sliding against paper.
A scroll rises above the aisles and floats towards us. The Bargainer’s hand is still in the air, and the scroll lands softly in his open palm.
“This is the report taken from the victims that recovered from their imprisonment,” Des says, changing the subject. He places the scroll on the table.
I get up and drag my chair closer to him.
“These were taken from the survivors of Karnon’s prison?” I ask.
“Just the Night fae survivors,” Des says. “The other kingdoms are recording the interviews of their victims. At the next summit our kingdoms hold, we’ll compare notes, but until then, we only have my subjects’ testimonies.”
I know without looking that I’m one of those testimonies. It was optional (perks of being mates to a king), but I did it anyway. I’ve worked enough cases to know how helpful testimonies can be.
“Why did you want me to see this?” I ask, lifting the edge of the parchment between us. I catch a glimpse of my name, and my stomach dips a little.
Des had been in the room when I gave my testimony, so he knows what happened to me, but seeing it written out next to all the other victims still makes me squirm.
“You went to the nursery to determine whether Karnon was those children’s father.”
Des slides the parchment over to me. “I thought you might like to read what the other prisoners had to say about their experience.”
His words sound almost like a challenge, and I eye him a bit circumspectly before I glance down at the scroll.
My eyes travel over the paragraphs written in elegant scrawl. I skip over my own testimony, focusing on the other women who escaped.
One by one I read about nine different fae soldiers, each who’d been kidnapped in her sleep. Each had languished in Karnon’s prison between one and eight days.
Apparently, they, like me, were able to recover from a week’s worth of the Fauna king’s black magic. Those who were captives for longer than eight days … they now lived far below us in glass caskets.
The more I read, the more I feel Callie the PI surge back to life. I’ve missed this—digging into cases, solving problems.
It takes me only a little longer to stumble across what Des must’ve wanted me to.
I tear my gaze away from the scroll. “All but two were sexually assaulted by Karnon,” I say.
The two who escaped that fate hadn’t been sexually assaulted at all. This wasn’t due to the Fauna king having a change of heart; they just happened to be the two most recently abducted women. Karnon hadn’t had enough time to incapacitate them with his magic. He liked violating women when they couldn’t fight back.
Des nods. “And?” he probes.
I return my attention to the parchment. It takes only seconds for the rest of the pieces to fall into place.
“And all but two confirmed they were pregnant,” I say.
Seven women raped solely by Karnon, seven women end up pregnant.
I meets Des’s gaze. “So Karnon is the casket children’s father?”
Des leans back in his seat, his legs splayed out. One leg jiggles restlessly. “So it seems.”
I want to pull my hair out.
None of this makes sense.
“But I thought …” I thought Des believed that Karnon wasn’t the father.
Before I can finish the thought, someone knocks on the library’s doors.
Des waves away the scroll, and it floats back onto the shelves. Another flick of his hand and the library doors open.
In saunters Malaki, looking just as rakish as usual. He bows to the both of us, then straightens, focusing his attention on Des.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says by way of greeting, “but duty calls.”
Des straightens in his seat. “What’s on the docket?”
“There are Borderland issues to deal with, two fairies you’ll be honoring with war cuffs and brunch—oh, and a Solstice invite you need to respond to.”
I’m already beginning to stand. I really need to figure out what I should do with my free time now that I’m marooned in the Otherworld.
“Wait,” Des says to me.
I turn to look at him.
“Would you like to join me?”
After what I saw yesterday in his throne room?
I shake my head. “Have fun.”
I head out of the room, leaving the King of the Night and his oldest friend to run the realm without me.
Chapter 8
I almost cloister myself away in Des’s chambers. Almost. But the prospect of hours and hours of boredom keeps me from getting too comfortable in Des’s rooms.
So, changing into the most badass outfit I can find (leather pants, knee-high boots, and a wing-friendly corset top that I get hopelessly tangled up in because straps), I decide to actually explore the palace. I might not have my emotional armor back in place, but damn, a good outfit does half the job.
Today’s stop: the Night Kingdom’s main library. After stumbling around asking for directions, I finally find it. Like the rest of Somnia, it’s made from the same distinctive white stone, its roof the green-blue of oxidized copper.
I climb up the grand stairs leading to it, the pale stone glittering in the moonlight. The lamps that line the stairs spark with warm starbursts of light.
And inside … oh, inside. The arched ceilings are lined with painted tile, copper chandeliers hanging between them. Everywhere I look in the cavernous room, beautiful fae objects are on display, from a huge tapestry that seems to shimmer different colors in the light, to a marble sculpture of two winged fairies locked in battle.
Correction: a moving marble sculpture. The statues make grinding noises as their stone muscles move.
I walk up to the sculpture and stare at it. Several seconds in, one of the statues turns its head, scowling at me.
“They don’t like being stared at.”
I nearly jump at the voice. A man stands at my side, gazing at me rather than the sculpture.
“If they don’t like being stared at, why are they on display?” I ask.
He presses his lips together, and for the life of me, I can’t tell if I’ve just irritated or amused him.
“Do you need any help?” he asks.
“Uh, no, just looking.”
He bows his head. “Please find me if you need assistance, my lady, and welcome to the Night Kingdom Library.”