A Strange Hymn
Page 43

“I heard I’d find you here,” he says, his footsteps echoing throughout the room.
“What’s this frilly little pipsqueak up to?” Temper asks under her breath, watching Flora fae head our way.
I shrug. “I think he finds us curious.”
“Hmph.”
The Green Man reaches our side, introducing himself to Temper, who looks less than impressed.
“So, you plan on solving the mystery?” he says, turning to me.
I can hear the subtle scorn in his voice. Why wouldn’t he be scornful? Ten years this mystery has plagued the Otherworld, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t stop the disappearances from happening again—and again and again.
“I plan on trying.”
His eyes move over the women around us. “I knew some of these women … personally.”
The way he says this makes me want to scrunch my nose. I think that he was more than just friends with some of these soldiers.
Temper and I share a knowing look. God, I love having my best friend here with me.
“Where are the children?” I ask, turning my attention back to the Green Man.
“They are sleeping a different sort of sleep,” he says cryptically.
My brows furrow in confusion.
“Mara has them killed,” he explains.
“Damn son,” Temper says.
You know shit’s bad when Temper’s impressed by the mercilessness of it.
“‘Poisoned fruit’—that’s what she calls them,” the Green Man elaborates. “They’re removed as soon as they enter the kingdom—rot spreads quickly.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “The queen’s trees seem to be rotting as well—why aren’t they too being removed?” I ask.
The Green Man assess me. “What are you talking about?”
“The sacred oak grove. The trees are bleeding.”
“Fucking hell,” Temper says under her breath.
“You must be imagining things,” he says. “The oaks are fine.”
Imagining things?
“No, I’m not—”
Temper puts a hand on my arm. “Ain’t no use trying to talk sense to this dude’s crazy ass. He and his wife kill kids.”
The Green Man’s expression turns patronizing as he looks between the two of us. “Don’t tell me you have a bleeding heart when it comes to those creatures?”
“It just seems hypocritical,” I say. To protect a plant but smother a fae life.
“It would be hypocritical if the trees were afflicted the same way those children are,” the Green Man says.
Ugh, why did I even bring this up? Fairies can be so tedious to talk to.
“Forget about it,” I say. I bump Temper’s shoulder. “There’s nothing here to see.”
We move between the aisles of coffins, heading for the door.
“Even if the trees have developed rot, they didn’t start out that way,” he says to our backs, “the children did. You can cure an illness, not a permanent state of existence.”
I ignore him.
“They say a specter haunts this place,” he adds, changing the subject.
I stop.
“He’s just tryin’ to reel you in, girl,” Temper says, grabbing my arm and urging me on. “Be better than his tricks.”
But I’m remembering something I heard a month ago, about a shadow watching over the children in the Night Kingdom’s nursery.
I turn around. “What do you know?”
He smiles. “The slaves are usually the ones who see him. They say that during a full moon you can see him move about the coffins.”
“‘Him’?” I say, stepping a bit closer. “How do you know it’s a man?”
He tilts his head. “Because there’s only one person who attends these women now—
“The Thief of Souls.”
Chapter 26
I stare up at the stars, Des next to me, the two of us quiet.
Both of us have been plagued by worry, him for the Night soldiers, who still haven’t turned up, and me for what the Green Man told me.
“The creep’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” Temper said when we left.
Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. I haven’t yet been able to figure out the motives of fairies. Not even those of the one who lays next to me.
The King of the Night and I have returned to the Sacred Gardens. Last night this section of the palace grounds was teeming with activity. Now it’s utterly abandoned, the only evidence of the previous evening’s revelries is the wine-stained ground and the piles of ash where the bonfires burned out.
Des reaches out for my hand. Wordlessly, he brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the skin there.
“I’ll be happy to leave this place,” he says.
I sigh. “Me too.”
My eyes move from star to star. The constellations are foreign to me but no less beautiful than they are on earth.
Out of nowhere, one of the stars begins to fall from the sky. I blink a few times, just to make sure I’m seeing things correctly. One moment it sat up in the heavens, the next it begins to descend, dropping from the sky as though gravity were pulling it to the horizon.
I’m still trying to make sense of the falling star when another one slips from its perch, leaving a faint, shimmery trail of light in its wake.
“Des!”
“Hmmm?” he responds lazily.
Then another star falls … and another and another, each one leaving its place in the canopy above us, each one dropping to where sky meets earth.
“The stars are falling from the sky!” That’s definitely a phrase I never imagined saying.
Now dozens are dropping from the cosmos, making the night look as though it’s crying the most exquisite tears.
I sit up, not able to tear my gaze away.
Just before any of them hit the horizon, they alter their trajectory, moving … towards us.
My brows knit. I glance over at Des, who still hasn’t responded.
He’s watching the sky too, but he doesn’t look alarmed or surprised. He reaches out for the heavens, the air wavering a little with his magic.
Then, perhaps the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, the fallen stars gather one by one into Des’s outstretched hand, looking just as tiny there in his palm as they did in the canopy above us.
I don’t breathe as he lowers his arm then holds his hand out to me. Cupped in his hand is starlight. I know stars aren’t this small. I reach out and touch them with my finger. They feel like grains of sand, and they’re warm to the touch.
I still can’t contain my surprise. “How did you … ?”
“I borrowed their light for an evening,” Des explains, starlight reflecting in his eyes.
I let out a surprised laugh, remembering our late night conversation on Phyllia, the Land of Dreams.
I would steal the stars from the sky for you.
You wouldn’t have to steal them Des.
“You made a deal with the stars?” I ask, incredulous.
“I asked nicely.” He says that as though there’s some distinction.
Now I throw my head back and laugh. He talked the stars out of the sky.
When my laughter finally dies away, Des is still staring intensely at me. “I told you I’d give you the stars for that laugh.”
He did.
He leans forward, bringing his cupped hand to the top of my head.
“What are you doing?” I ask, beginning to lean away.