A Strange Hymn
Page 17

He lifts me against his chest, cradling me to him. His talon-tipped wings spread wide around us, and then he leaps into the air, the two of us ascending into the night sky.
As the cool air whips my hair about, Des cups my face to his chest, shielding me from the worst of the wind.
I lean my head into him, breathing in his masculine scent. I don’t understand how even out here in the middle of a foreign world’s night sky, I can still feel right at home pressed against this man. But I do.
My eyes drift close, and I let the beats of his wings rock me to sleep.
My stomach dips, and I wake with a start. A thousand stars sparkle around me as I blink my eyes open.
When I try to sit up, I feel Des’s arms tighten around me. It takes me a moment longer to realize, one, we’re still in the sky, and two, Des makes for a surprisingly good bed.
I glance beneath us and notice that we’re beginning to descend onto yet another floating island that is not Somnia.
Now Des’s earlier, cryptic questions about my interest in his kingdom become clearer. He’s taking me on a tour of his realm.
I try to remember just how many floating islands he rules over, but at the moment I'm totally drawing a blank. All I manage to piece together is that we’re going to visit several of them.
This one looks fun. Even far away, I can already see that. Everywhere I look, there are strings of colorful lights illuminating the buildings—not like the lights you might see at Christmas, but the kinds you might find outside a cantina.
The bright, flowering plants and trees that grow here have a tropical feel to them—as does the balmy night air.
It’s not until we get closer that I make out a series of bar fights happening in the streets. Those fairies who aren’t fighting are drunkenly staggering on and off the pavement—except, of course, for the lovely couple that might or might not be getting it on against the side of one of the buildings.
Allllriiight.
We land outside what looks to be a gambling hall, the fairies inside clustered around several tables where more fae are rolling sets of dice.
I slip out of Des’s arms, looking around me. “What is this place?”
“Barbos, the City of Thieves.”
Of course Des rules over an island fondly known as the City of Thieves.
We start walking, and oh God, everything hurts. I mean everything.
Whatever that horrible place was in Phyllia where we trained, it worked me over good.
I groan as we walk, rubbing my backside. “Des, I think you broke my ass.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather pants. “Cherub, you’ll be making different moans when I break your ass.”
Sweet Lord of heaven and earth. Blood rushes to my face. To my horror, my skin begins to brighten.
Bad, siren. Bad.
I guffaw. “That will only ever happen in your dreams.”
Des stops and catches my jaw in his hand, forcing me to look in his eyes. “You know, the endearing thing about you is that you still say things like that, even though you owe me a wrist full of debt.” His thumb strokes the side of my face.
I swallow, not sure if the excitement I feel is from dread or anticipation.
He pulls me in close. “Careful with your words, mate,” he says, his voice more serious than before. “I’d gladly take them on as a challenge.”
He releases my face, strolling forward once more.
I stand in place for several seconds before I pull myself together.
“I want a divorce,” I finally declare.
“Sorry, cherub,” he says over his shoulder, “but that sore ass of yours is mine whether you like it or not.”
I make a face at his back.
“Saw that.”
“Good,” I say, and then I proceed to ignore him.
I don’t know whether Des is still working his illusionary magic because people aren’t fawning over him, but me … me they’re checking out.
Their eyes linger on my wings and my forearms, but I don’t see fear or pity in their eyes. If anything, they look … intrigued.
Self-consciously I reach around me and run a hand over one of my wings.
“They don’t see your features as you do,” Des says, still not turning around from where he strolls ahead of me.
I furrow my brows.
He stops, waiting for me to catch up to him. “Fae come in all shapes and sizes,” he explains. “Seeing someone that looks as you do does not seem strange to us. To us, you’re a beautiful human with wings, and that’s both exotic and appealing.”
I glance down at what I can see of my dark wings, the iridescent feathers shimmering green under the light. It’s hard to wrap my mind around what he’s saying, and even harder to try to reframe how I see myself.
Exotic. Appealing. Those words are a far cry from the ones that come to mind when I look in the mirror.
Monstrous. Mutated.
I’m ashamed to admit that those appreciative stares soothe a part of my broken self-confidence.
“You should really remember that, cherub,” Des says, “especially when you meet some of the elites from other realms. They’ll find you just as attractive as all of these fairies do—perhaps more so because you’re mine—but they will try to mask whatever they feel with disgust or some other emotion made to make you feel small.”
These fae sound like charming people …
Wait.
I glance at Des. “When I meet other elites?”
Chapter 11
No, I’m not about to meet other elites.
Yes, I likely will at some point in time.
No, not tonight.
Yes, Des cares about my feelings.
No, caring about my feelings won’t get me out of meeting said elites when the time comes.
Apparently meeting important fae is part of this whole soulmate package thingy I signed on for.
Bleh.
If I could live my life without meeting another high-powered fae, I’d consider it a win. Des is more than enough.
Des stops me in front of a tavern, and I give it a good once-over. It looks just like the others. Same carved wood façade, same bright lights strung up over its awning, same gummy look that suggests the place has endured decades of beer spills.
Honestly, this is my kind of bar. Fun, no frills, good alcohol. The only drawbacks to this situation are that one, we’re in the Otherworld, not earth, and two, I can’t drink, thanks to a repayment Des took from me weeks ago—oh, and three, I’m walking into a bar still wearing my training leathers. At this point, the outfit is more leather cutouts than actual leather.
The Bargainer opens the door for me, and the two of us step inside the pub.
One by one the rowdy patrons notice us. Within seconds, the place goes deathly silent.
“Um, was that supposed to happen?” I whisper to Des. He doesn’t bother responding.
At the far end of the room, a chair scrapes back, and a huge, hulking fairy steps forward—though it’s a bit of a stretch to call him a fairy, at least by my own definition of the word.
The man’s scarred face, torn leathers, and wild red hair make me think he’s less a fairy and more a pirate.
His golden-brown eyes are harsh as he stalks towards me and Des. No one else in the establishment moves, all eyes riveted to us.
“What the hell are you doing here, Bastard?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
My eyebrows shoot up. I don’t think that, aside from me, I’ve heard anyone insult the Bargainer to his face.
A different sort of unsettling silence now cloaks the room, like someone lit a match over a pile of gunpowder, and everyone is preparing themselves for the explosion to come.