A Strange Hymn
Page 72

His face changes from that of the Green Man, earning another shriek from Mara. The queen didn’t even know the man she slept next to wasn’t her husband.
Raven dark hair and inky black eyes replace the Green Man’s evergreen hair and amber irises.
“Want to know a secret?” he whispers. “Janus had a twin, a twin who died. The first time you met him, you were really meeting me.”
I reel back. Whether it’s from pain or blood loss, I can’t seem to put his words together.
“Ask yourself this:” he says, “do the dead ever really die?”
I stare down at the monster who’s already ruined so many lives, feeling my own life force seep out of me.
He reaches for a lock of my hair. “Utterly singular …” he breathes.
He smiles at me. “This is our little game—and trust me, enchantress, it’s far from over.”
A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, a dust devil rising around him.
“I’m still coming for you,” he promises me. “Your life is mine.”
Chapter 53
The Thief’s eyes close, his body going still.
It’s only once his life has fled him that his features revert back to those of the Green Man.
Now that the Thief no longer animates the Green Man’s body, the fallen ruler looks benevolent, kind.
Mara pushes past me, falling to the side of her dead mate. She cries over the Green Man, clutching her chest like the loss physically hurts.
I rise on shaky legs, one of my hands still pressed to my stomach.
I feel my own life ebbing away from me. That horrible darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision.
I stagger, then fall. Des catches me before I hit the ground.
“That was the Thief—”
“Ssshhh,” he says, laying me out on the ground before shucking off his shirt.
Efficiently, he rips it into strips, making a tourniquet of sorts for my wound.
It’s too late for that. I know the Thief shredded vital things when he stabbed me. The soldier in Des knows it too.
I touch his battle-weary face, gazing into his fathomless eyes. They’re like a beacon, calling me to life. But the shadows are closing in on me …
“I love you, Des.”
“You are not leaving me, Callie,” he says fiercely.
My cold hand slips from his face, and I feel myself start to descend into that final, eternal darkness.
Chapter 54
Desmond Flynn
She’s not going to die.
She can’t.
She might.
Just like my mother.
This is what happens to brave women. Strong women. If you’re worthy enough, they’ll bleed for you.
They’ll die for you.
I feel my throat working.
Please, not again. Never again.
And not her. My mate.
Life was bleak enough without my mother. But with Callie, with Callie everything changed. Life was a thousand times sweeter than I could’ve imagined.
If she dies … there will be no surviving this.
I stroke her cool, clammy cheek, desperate to coax life back into her. She stares up at me, and there’s such brutal truth in her expression.
She knows what’s happening to her.
I feel my heart crushing. I almost can’t breathe through the pain. So much worse than my injuries.
This is not how I thought it would all end. But everything Callie is, everything that makes up her essence, is fading.
I run my hand over her bracelet.
Her bracelet! While she lives, she’s still bound by her vows.
I’m not above exploiting them.
“You will not die,” I command.
My magic flows out of me, and one bead begins to fade … then another and another. She draws in a shuddering gasp.
“Des, what are you doing?” she asks, breathless.
“Saving you.”
And by the gods, it’s working.
Row after row of beads disappear.
Take them all, just bring her back to me.
The beads start to vanish slower and slower until finally, they stop disappearing altogether.
Only a little over a row remains.
Her breathing is still as shallow as ever, and her wound hasn’t stopped bleeding.
I’m no healer, but if the magic took, then something should improve.
But it doesn’t.
And then, with a whoosh, the whole thing reverses.
The magic slams back into my body, rocking me backwards, and the beads begin to reform one by one.
Nooooo!
Can’t complete the spell.
Beyond my control.
Callie’s eyes widen, like she felt the balances tip as well.
I gather her body closer to me, rocking her in my arms, my head bowed over hers.
I’ve never fallen apart in front of Callie. Not even when she was at the mercy of Karnon. But now I begin to.
Because this is the real thing.
“Till darkness dies, love,” she says, her voice faint.
“No.” I’m shaking my head. “Even then, no.” The night could end, and she’d still be mine.
Always mine.
Her eyes slip shut.
“No.” I say more emphatically.
I glance up, blindly looking around. This is the moment I’ve dreaded since I met my mate. The moment I lose her.
I’d rather do something unforgiveable to keep her alive than let her slip quietly into death.
Something unforgiveable …
“Mara, where is the wine? The—the lilac wine.”
The Flora queen looks up from her own dead mate, her eyes dull. “The royal cellar,” she mumbles, as if in a trance. And then her attention returns to the Green Man.
The royal cellar. I’ve actually been there several times over the centuries.
It takes an instant to leave Callie’s side and materialize there, then several precious seconds to locate the tell-tale purple glass bottles.
Grabbing one, I disappear, returning to my mate’s side.
With a swift jerk I snap the narrow neck of the bottle clean off. Already I catch faint, telltale whiffs of the wine.
I promised my mate that I’d protect her from this side of myself, the selfish, immoral side.
I lied.
The thing is, I’m both a fairy and the son of a tyrant king; I’ve descended, undoubtedly, from demons. Wickedness is in my blood.
For once I will give into the depraved thoughts that revolve around my mate.
Callie’s face is ashen, her skin already cold. Her pulse is a weak, fluttery thing.
I’ll take my mate’s mortality from her just as I have always imagined.
Bringing the bottle to her lips, I tip the lilac wine into her unresponsive mouth. Using a little of my magic, I force her throat to swallow it.
I pour it all down, every last drop, my hand never once wavering.
And then I wait.
I comb her hair back, then stroke her iridescent wings.
Never should have brought her here. Never should have rekindled what we had. Never should’ve entered her life in the first place.
It’s a peculiar kind of agony, knowing that the love of your life would be alive if not for you. Loving her enough to want that life for her even if it means erasing all that you had together. Because then, at least, she’d still be alive.
Movement draws my attention to her wrist. Where a minute ago, my black beads had re-appeared, row after row of them now vanish once more.
Only death or repayment can fulfill a bargain. Death or repayment.
Death.
Fear—true, heart-crushing, sweat-inducing fear flows through me.
She really is leaving me.
A chasm inside me opens, and it’s being filled with all my pain, all my dread, all the suffering I’ve borne throughout these long centuries.