A Strange Hymn
Page 65

“You have been nothing but trouble since you entered my kingdom,” Mara growls, “from attacking Janus, to your human wife questioning my authority in front of my own people.”
At this, the room begins to darken, no doubt because Des is vividly recalling just what happened when I questioned her authority.
“Not to mention,” she continues, “that the Fauna fae want you dead, and several people think you’re behind the missing soldiers. And now my men are gone—”
The Green Man joins us then, lovingly brushing the Flora Queen’s hair off her shoulder as he does so. She shudders at the touch, not so subtly shrugging his hand off. Her gaze flicks to him, and she gives the Green Man a tight smile.
Okay, that whole interaction was not normal. Mates aren’t repulsed by each other’s touch, and they don’t just bear each other’s company.
The Green Man smiles at Mara, then us, completely oblivious to his queen’s reaction. “Why don’t we take this somewhere quieter?” he says.
“Fine,” Mara hisses, spinning on her heels.
“I’m not going anywhere with either of you,” I say. Not after yesterday’s events.
Mara gives me an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t stutter,” I say.
The groups around us are falling quiet, shocked by my words.
“You may be their queen,” I say, motioning to the room, “but you are not mine.”
I hear some quick inhalations of breath.
God it feels good to tell this woman off.
“Desmond,” the Flora Queen says, “tell your ma—”
I step in front of Des. “No,” I say. “The King of the Night is no message boy, and I can understand your words quiet clearly, so if you have something to say to me, say it to my face.”
The ballroom is serene for all of five seconds. Then Mara’s power begins to build, shaking the very walls of her palace. The plants in the room come alive, twisting and snapping.
“You idiotic waste of—”
Desmond steps to my side. “Careful, queen. Any offense given to my mate, is an offense given to me. And I do not tolerate slights.”
That’s the closest Des will come to admitting he’s behind the disappearances of Mara’s men. The Flora Queen reads between the lines anyway. Her eyes blaze as she takes in the Bargainer.
“You son of—”
The Green Man lays his hands on Des and Mara’s shoulders. “Privacy,” he emphasizes.
The room continues to darken. I can feel Des’s magic coiling around me, steeping me in shadow. Around us, the guests have gone utterly silent.
“Say it,” Des goads her, a smile drawing the edges of his lips up. “Finish the statement.”
A chill slides over my skin.
“Say it,” he says, quieter.
The plants are whipping about, and Mara’s sharp green eyes are flinty. “You son of a whore. You’ll never be more than a bastard king, and your mate, a slave. You and your ilk disgrace my halls.”
Des smiles, and the world goes dark.
Chapter 45
Solstice expectations: everyone shall set aside their quarrels for this week, hold hands, and sing kumbaya.
Solstice reality: everyone shall come within an inch of death at least once.
Fairies everywhere in the room begin to panic as darkness cloaks our surroundings.
I feel the breath of a hundred different types of magic trying to illuminate the room only to be snuffed out by Des’s power. Along the walls, I hear the sound of plants rustling. It takes several seconds for me to realize that they’re withering, dying.
“Before there were plants, before there were animals, before there was even light, there was darkness,” Des says, his voice silky smooth. “From that darkness, all of our deepest desires and most secret fears were born. And I know all of yours. Perhaps I should share them …”
I swear I hear Mara suck in a breath.
“Or perhaps I should simply hurt you where you stand.”
“The truce ...” she says.
“Yes,” Des replies, “that damnable truce, the same one you managed to find your way around when it came to my mate. You think that will save anyone now? Surely you realize I can outmaneuver that promise just as well as you can.”
The plants are still withering around us; I can hear their unearthly death rattles.
She doesn’t say anything, but the smell of rotting flowers is thick in the air.
“Or maybe I’ll do it all. Spill your secrets then break your pretty throne. Shall I start with how you hate your mate’s touch?”
Air hisses through Mara’s teeth, but she doesn’t deny the accusation.
“I know you desire my touch—and my mate’s.”
That last little bit of Des’s confession is met with whispers in the dark. I guess wanting a human woman to fondle your lady parts is extra scandalous.
“There are other things I’ve learned. Should I keep going?”
She won’t say no. I know it, Des knows it, and she must know it as well. There’s both her pride and appearances to keep up. She can’t just bend to a visiting fae’s will. But I also know that Des is unearthing truths she’d rather leave buried.
As it turns out, she doesn’t have to worry about answering the Bargainer.
From the darkness comes light. It’s dim at first, but with each passing second, it gets brighter and brighter, shaping itself into a man—into Janus.
His whole body radiates light, casting the room into a dim golden glow. He makes his way to our group, his guards flanking him—Aetherial one of them. He gestures for his soldiers to fall back before coming to our sides.
“My friends,” he says, grasping both Des and Mara on the shoulders, “why don’t we find a quiet place to rip each other’s throats out?”
Half of me thinks that Janus’s presence is only going to agitate Des more, but my mate looks around the room, seeming to awaken from whatever state he’s in. Ever so slowly, the darkness recedes, and Des rubs his mouth, reluctantly nodding.
The fairies in the ballroom blink as light returns, their gazes quickly finding us. And then the whispers begin. They stare at Des with more than a little fear.
Now it’s not just the Fauna fae that distrust him; it’s everyone here.
The Bargainer’s silver eyes find mine. “Enjoy yourself, love. I’ll be gone only a minute.”
He signals to some of his soldiers, who come to flank my sides, and then, with a parting kiss, slips away with the other rulers.
I watch the four of them retreat, their stifling power leaving with them.
After they leave, Aetherial steps up to me, putting all my guards on edge. I wave them down.
“Your mate’s really going through the bender with the whole bonding process,” she says, looking at the door they exited through.
I glance over at her. Is that what’s going on? He’d made mention of his instincts getting the better of him, but the Desmond I know always was the epitome of control.
“I hear that Night rulers get it particularly bad,” she continues. “Something about their ancestral blood apparently makes them hyper aggressive.”
Des had mentioned that he’d descended either from dragons or demons. I suppose either creature could cause the mood shifts.
Her gaze slides to me. “I’ve also heard rumor that a white-haired man has been snatching soldiers from Solstice festivities.”