A Strange Hymn
Page 52

“Are you alright?” the Green Man says, his eyes bright with excitement rather than concern.
As if he’s unaware of the effect his words have on me.
My eyes search the crowd, falling on Des, whose back is to me. He’s the one I should really talk about this with, but he’s trapped in discussions, and more importantly, I don’t really want to have that talk.
Temper swoops in then. “Back the fuck up, Green Man, the queen needs more wine.”
Before either me or the Green Man have a chance to react, Temper slides her arm through mine and forcefully escorts me away.
“Jesus, I love you,” I say.
“Black Jesus loves you too, you crazy skank.” She bumps my hip with her own.
“I need to get out of here,” I say, not bothering to comment on the fact that Temper has a healthy glow to her, or that her hair is a little sex-shaken.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyeing me up and down. “You look like you accidently saw your grandparents getting it on.”
I swallow. “I’ll tell you, just—” I glance around us at all the fairies crowding the room. Dropping my voice, I say, “not here.”
She purses her lips, eyeing me again, but nods.
We’re just about to the door when I hear Mara’s voice.
“Callie!”
I close my eyes.
We nearly made it.
“Wanna just pretend we didn’t hear that?” Temper asks.
“Callie!” Mara calls again, more insistent this time.
I sigh and shake my head.
The two of us turn. The Queen of Flora is no longer on the dance floor, instead drinking a refreshment from where I stood a moment ago with the Green Man, who is now no longer in sight.
“You must come here.” She beckons me over, her crowd of men eyeing me curiously.
“Have I mentioned that I don’t fucking like that woman?” Temper says next to me. “Look at that smug-ass smile. She looks like the kind of bitch that befriends you just so she can steal your boyfriend.”
This is precisely why Temper and I are friends. The girl gets it.
“Ugh, I should probably go over,” I say.
Being mates with a fae king has its drawbacks. I’d spent my teen years being a wallflower and the years following that making people forget they’d run into me. But now, being a fae king’s mate, I’m as far from anonymous as I can be.
Temper dips her finger into her wine, stirring it contemplatively. It’s a look she gets right about the time she’s concocting a spell. “If she pisses you off, give me a signal, and I’ll rescue you again, no questions asked.”
I nod. “Thanks for having my back, T.”
“Anytime—oh, and later I want to hear what you were about to tell me,” she says as she backs away.
I swallow uncomfortably, the Green Man’s conversation bubbling back up.
I could be pregnant.
I nod and part ways with Temper, taking a deep breath as I head over to Mara, who’s giggling with her harem. Her gaze moves to me, and her eyes sharpen.
“So, tell me,” she says, “how did you and Desmond meet?”
I glance around at the men watching us. Everyone looks so goddamn predatory. This is exactly why I wanted to stay far, far away from the Otherworld in the first place. These people will eat you alive.
She sees where my attention is. “Don’t worry about them. Now, I’ve been dying to hear this story.”
I have a knee jerk reaction to lie, as I have in the past when it comes to how Des and I met, but before I can, I reassess my audience.
You know what? Why not give them the truth?
“The first time I met the King of the Night was the evening I killed my father. He helped me hide the body.”
For a moment, no one speaks.
And then, one of the men begins to laugh. One by one, the rest join in. Even Mara cracks a smile.
“What have I told you about humans?” one of the men says to another, “They are vicious little things when they want to be.”
I frown at the man before the Queen of Flora drags my attention away.
“My, my,” she says, “how much you and Desmond have in common. No wonder he’s so smitten with you. A woman after his own heart.”
I furrow my brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She waves the conversation off, taking another sip of her drink. “That’s not my story to tell. But, speaking of stories, I imagine you have quite the tale to tell from your time with Karnon.”
Yeah, that’s not exactly a tale I want to share during cocktail hour at the Flora Queen’s palace.
“It must’ve been a shock,” she says when I don’t respond, “coming here to the Otherworld—and being kidnapped no less! I can’t imagine being trapped in Karnon’s palace. That awful place had long since gone to seed by the time you arrived.”
Bones breaking, blood dripping, endless agony.
I give her a tight smile.
She leans forward. “I hear Desmond arrived just in time. It seems uncanny almost. I wonder how he found you so quickly …”
I narrow my eyes at her, seeing exactly what she’s getting at. Had I not talked to Des about this earlier, her words would worm their way under my skin.
She lightly touches my arm. “Well, it’s no matter now. You’re safe, and thanks to those wings of yours, Desmond has ensured that you cannot leave his side to return to earth.”
As soon as that last sentence registers, my heart seems to skip a beat.
Thanks to those wings of yours, Desmond has ensured that you cannot leave his side …
“… Callypso?” Mara’s voice echoes, as though from a distance.
I blink several times, the Flora Queen’s face coming into focus. Her expression is pinched with concern, though I know it’s all an act. Just like the casual way she managed to plant those bits of doubt in my mind.
“Are you alright?” she asks, reaching for my arm.
And then Des’s words up on the treetop return to me. How, despite our weak connection, he felt my need and my pain through our bond. That my agony at the hands of Karnon had to be as intense as it was for the Bargainer to sense my distress and, through it, my location.
That was how Des found me when he did. Not because he wanted to keep me here in the Otherworld like some caged bird. He doesn’t think like that, even if the Flora Queen does.
The moment Mara’s fingers touch my elbow, I jerk it out of her reach.
Around us I hear a few muffled gasps from fairies who must’ve caught sight of the action. Apparently not letting a queen touch you is some sort of faux pas.
“You’re wrong.” I take a step back. I can feel my wings ruffling in agitation. “So, so wrong.”
I need to get away from these creatures, with their fake smiles and duplicitous words.
“Wait, I hope I didn’t upset you,” she says.
A lie.
“I called you over because I’ve been meaning to give you a gift in honor of your bond to the King of the Night.”
I feel the first tendrils of apprehension. I’ve learned from Des that when it comes to gifts from fairies, there are always strings attached.
The Flora Queen’s harem presses in around me, boxing me in while Mara gestures to someone over her shoulder.
A human servant weaves through the throng of guests carrying a silver tray. Resting on it is a delicate metal wine glass filled with light purple liquid. She stops at the queen’s side.