A Strange Hymn
Page 47

I find I want to ask about his brotherhood, but I bite back my questions, afraid it will derail what I really want to know tonight.
“Even now,” he continues, “when I’ve had so much time to work on it, it can still take over.”
Like earlier tonight.
I want to tell him that he’s not giving himself the benefit of the doubt. When I think about Des and control, I think about all those months I spent back in high school trying to whittle my mate down to no avail. Or how, when he found me in Karnon’s throne room, bloody and broken, he still kept a leash on his anger up until the very last moment.
But I don’t mention any of this.
Instead, I ask, “Would your father lose control?”
Des’s hand moves to my hair. He runs his fingers through it, letting it slide through them.
“Sometimes—from what I’ve heard,” he says. Des’s eyes grow distant. “Usually when something unpleasant surprised him.”
I lay my head back down on his chest. “You still haven’t exactly answered my question.”
There’s so much I don’t know about Des—centuries worth of memories he hasn’t bothered to share. And I want to know each and every detail about his life, but this particular detail, his father, is one that seems especially important.
“Then perhaps,” his finger taps my nose, “you should be more precise with your questions.”
“Des.”
I hear the sigh of air that leaves his lungs. “Out of all the fun, wicked little truths you could ask me, you had to choose this one …”
He’s squirming, I realize. It’s so very human, and so very unlike my mate.
“I don’t like talking about him,” he admits.
I get that. God, do I get that.
“He was killing off his children,” Des says out of nowhere.
I tense in his arms.
“When I was conceived,” he continues, “he was killing off all his children. The adults, the kids, even the babies”
I don’t breathe for several seconds.
The first ludicrous thought I have is that Des once had siblings.
The second is that they’re now all ghosts. Every one of them. All because of his father.
I can’t wrap my mind around that. It’s too cruel, too evil, too unconscionable.
“Why?” I finally ask. My question seems to echo in the quiet of the room.
I don’t expect an answer, not just because Des isn’t forthcoming with them, but also because I’ve found as a PI, the most twisted cases hardly ever have an explanation. Sometimes people do atrocious things just because they can.
The Bargainer’s hand slides from my hair, down my arm.
“Some prophecy he received forewarned him that his legacy would lead to his downfall.”
It sounds like a Greek drama.
“I don’t know if he ever cared about his children, but if he did, he cared about his power more.”
Now I understand why, as frightening as the casket children are and as soulless as they might be, Des won’t harm them.
No child deserves to be slaughtered because of their bloodline.
“My mother was a favorite concubine of his. When she found out she was pregnant, she fled the palace. Eventually she ended up in Arestys. I didn’t know it until later, but throughout my entire childhood we were living in hiding.”
I’d wondered how Des could’ve come from the royal harem and still have the life he had.
Now I know.
My thuggish king. He wouldn’t have existed if his mother hadn’t done what she did.
Trying to imagine a world without Desmond Flynn is even harder to fathom than a world in which a father kills off all his heirs.
What would life be like if there was no Bargainer to save me from my past, no Des to comfort me in the night, no mate to stake his claim after seven long years of waiting?
Just the thought hurts.
I stroke my fingers down his skin. It didn’t happen. The man beneath me is more than dreams and wishes. He’s flesh and blood, skin and bone, muscle and magic.
And he’s mine.
“Did it come true?” I ask. “The prophecy?”
For several seconds, all I hear is Des’s breathing. Eventually, he lifts his hand, and the fairy lights above us wink out.
“That’s enough sharing for one evening,” he says.
In the darkness, I’m left to my own thoughts. And I can’t help but wonder—
What is Des still keeping from me?
Chapter 29
The sounds of clinking silverware echo in Mara’s private breakfast nook.
“Well, last night was more than a little thrilling,” Mara says, breaking the silence.
The three fae rulers, me, and the Green Man all are seated around a table, enjoying an awkward-as-fuck breakfast.
One of the cornerstones of Solstice are the diplomacy talks that occur during this week, and apparently today’s breakfast meeting is the first of them.
To be honest, I don’t have high hopes about how this year’s talks are going to go. The Fauna King is noticeably absent while his kingdom is scrambling to find a replacement ruler. Des and Janus, meanwhile, have been glaring at each other the entire meal, Des rolling his knife around his hand like I’ve seen him do with daggers. And Mara has glanced at me a few times, but she hasn’t quite been able to make that leap to addressing me properly.
All I’m trying to accomplish is to keep breakfast down and not freak the hell out. I shouldn’t be docilely sitting at a table with the man who abducted me from Des’s house. If he were a human man, I’d have already been elbows deep into my revenge, using my glamour to get him to do anything and everything I willed. But, alas, he’s a fae king, one both immune to my powers and staggeringly powerful himself.
The only one who seems to be enjoying himself is the Green Man. He’s been tucking into his eggs like it’s a profession.
This is the weirdest diplomacy meeting ever.
“So remind me again,” Mara says, glancing between the King of Day and the King of Night, “what tiff was it again that almost ruined two millennia of peaceful Solstice gatherings?”
Des leans back in his seat, folding one leg over the other knee. “Janus kidnapped my mate.”
Janus slams his silverware down on the table, making the plates rattle. “For the last goddamn time, I didn’t touch her.” His eyes flick to me. “I’ve never even seen her before.”
Liar.
I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I could never forget the corona of light that shines around him or that face of his, which would make sculptors weep.
He must read my thoughts from my expression because his eyes flick away in annoyance.
Mara’s gaze moves to me. “Did Janus kidnap you?” she asks, folding her hands under her chin.
It takes me a second to respond because, oh my God, she actually addressed me, a mere mortal.
I set down my fork. “Yes.” My voice is steely.
Janus lets out a huff, throwing his hands up in the air. “I did not.”
“So, Janus was working with Karnon?” Mara asks the room.
My eyes are trained on the King of Day.
No one answers.
“Well?” she presses, her attention turning to Janus, “is it true?”
“Of course it’s not. I can provide an alibi—not that I’m inclined to.” He levels Des with another glare.
“Well, there we go,” Mara say, smiling tightly. “He can provide an alibi. Perhaps Callypso here was just confused.”