A Strange Hymn
Page 48

“I wasn’t,” I say. Only my voice sounds a touch defensive because … what if? What if the King of Day was able to prove that he wasn’t on earth that morning he abducted me?
What then?
“Now, can we all move on?” Mara says, ignoring my response. She gives everyone a hard look—me in particular—and I quickly realize we’ve come to the last of her good graces.
Put up and shut up, that’s what she’s demanding of us.
“Please,” Janus says, exasperated.
Shadows begin to seep into the corners of the room. I haven’t glanced over at Des, but just from those shadows alone I can tell that he’s not going to agree to anything.
Des leans back in his seat. “N—”
Swallowing down my cowardice, I place a hand on his thigh, stopping him.
“Yes,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Des drags his attention off of Janus long enough to give me a stormy look. Whatever he sees on my face has him working his jaw. Ever so slowly, the shadows recede.
Folding his arms over his chest, he gives a hard nod.
“Fabulous.” Mara picks up her flute of champagne. “Now, onto the real news: Desmond, you killed Karnon?”
Next to me, the Bargainer says nothing, looking both savage and insolent.
“Desmond.” Mara presses. She appears almost predatory, waiting on his answer.
Idly, he picks up my hand and plays with it, a small gesture that draws our audience’s attention. “Yes, I killed him. He hurt my mate.”
“Hmmm.” Mara takes a sip of her drink.
Her eyes move to me, calculating, curious. “What was it like, being Karnon’s prisoner?” she asks me.
My heart’s beginning to race. I take a steadying breath. “It was hell. Absolute hell.” I’m proud that my voice doesn’t waver. I might feel like a mess, but I sound sure of myself.
Mara leans forward, a sick light to her eyes. “Did he rape you—?”
“Enough.” Power rides Des’s voice.
The Flora Queen sits back in her seat, taking another sip of her champagne.
My skin crawls at her question, at her disturbing interest.
“I believe Karnon was behind the women’s disappearances,” she says, “but the fact remains, the spell hasn’t lifted. Someone else is still out there pulling strings.”
A chill runs through the room.
“Our investigation has assumed as much,” Des says.
“As has mine,” Janus adds in.
The two rulers’ eyes meet. I’m pretty sure oil and water do a better job of mixing together than these two.
I get the impression that this rivalry predates me. Light and darkness, constantly battling one another.
“What I find interesting,” the Green Man cuts in, “are the casket children.”
All eyes move to him. So far, he hasn’t added much to the conversation.
He tosses his utensils onto his cleaned plate. “Those children drink blood and prophesize—traits closely associated with the Night Kingdom.”
He lets that little revelation linger in the air.
Traits closely associated with the Night Kingdom.
His meaning is clear: whoever fathered those children was a Night fae, and the only Night fairy powerful enough to wield the kind of magic that the Thief of Souls does would be …
Des’s mouth curves into a vicious smile, his whole face turning sinister. “So you believe it was me. That I raped those women and fathered those children.”
The idea isn’t just ridiculous, it’s abhorrent.
“It wouldn’t have to be rape,” Mara says contemplatively. She eyes Des, her gaze disrobing him. My hackles rise at the sight. “I’ve heard tales of your conquests. Who can resist the Night King with all of his charms?”
My fingers curl around the edges of my seat, and I have to fight to keep my anger at bay.
“Surely you guys can’t be serious?” I say. “Any of the women taken can tell you—Karnon and Karnon alone touched them.”
“And yet my mate’s point remains the same,” Mara says. “The casket children have Night fae—not Fauna fae—traits.”
This is the same conundrum I grappled with when I went to see the children in the royal nursery. I hate that it’s now being twisted to incriminate my mate.
Des, meanwhile, is doing nothing to dispel the accusations against him. He just continues to stare at Mara with that malevolent grin on his face, unaffected by her words.
“Why should we not believe it was you?” Janus says. “I heard that it took you nearly a week to rescue your mate from Karnon’s palace. Why so long, Flynn?”
That question … that question hurts. Forget the fact that these rulers are spinning tales out of shadows. Why did Des wait so long?
Des leans back in his chair, looking haughtily at the other rulers. “And what if it is me? What if I, in my infinite power, staged the whole thing so that the mad king would take the fall? What would you do? What could you do?”
Mara and Janus share a look.
Janus leans forward, his eyes intense. “Whatever needed to be done.”
I feel the depth of Des’s power then, sitting in that room. It’s as vast as the universe and as dark as the night.
If he were cruel, if he were evil … there’d be no stopping him.
If he were cruel and he were evil, our bond wouldn’t care one way or another.
Like it or not, I’d still be his.
Chapter 30
The casket children have Night Kingdom traits.
My skin prickles, even though it’s warm outside.
“Why did it take you so long to find me when I was Karnon’s prisoner?” I ask Des as he and I head back for our room. I don’t want to sound hurt or accusing, but a part of me feels both.
Des stops, turning to face me. He tilts his head. “Are you actually considering their words?”
I don’t know what to say, caught between my own uncertainty and Des’s secrets.
“I just need to know,” I say, my voice quiet.
Des’s mouth flattens into a grimace. He glances around us, looking at the fairies that stroll the gardens.
His meaning is clear: this is not a private place.
He nods to the huge cedar we’re rooming in, his wings unfolding behind him. “Follow me.”
Before I can ask him what he’s doing, he leaps into the air, his massive wings looking out of place in the bright light of day. Around us, people stop and watch.
Releasing a sigh, I take a running leap, letting my wings lift me into the air.
Des lands on one of the highest branches of the cedar. Clumsily, I join him, nearly overshooting the branch and falling off. He catches me around the waist, letting out a husky laugh that I feel to my core.
He can’t be bad, he can’t. We might both be fucked up, and sure, Des has killed a few people, but he can’t be evil—more like … Wicked Lite.
I situate myself on the branch so that my legs are hanging off, the backs of my ankles brushing my wings and my shoulder brushing Des’s. From this high up, fairies look like tiny bugs.
I breathe in the crisp forest air, the treetop swaying just slightly in the breeze.
“That morning, the morning you went missing,” Des begins, “you can’t even—” His voice breaks, and I swivel my head to stare at him. He’s a far cry from the cocksure fae king he was back in Mara’s breakfast nook. Now I can feel the heat and pain in his words.