Dark Harmony
Page 53

I could try.
My breathing slows. The smells and sounds and sensations, all of that fades as I search down that magical bond.
And … nothing.
I open my eyes, feeling ridiculous.
Where is Des?
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I stride over to it and, grabbing the knob, swing it open.
Malaki stares down at me, looking more ferocious than ever. “I think it’s time we talked.”
“Where is Des?” I ask.
The two of us are sitting in some side room I’ve never been in before. On the wall is an intricate mosaic depicting some great battle taking place among the heavens.
“Busy being a king.” Gone is Malaki’s good humor. And here I thought we’d bonded last night over that champagne.
I lean back in my chair.
“And Temper?” I ask.
“I am not her keeper.”
Could’ve fooled me …
Just then a fairy comes in carrying a tray with an assortment of coffee and pastries on it. Malaki and I are quiet as he lays it out. It’s only after the fairy leaves and the two of us are alone once more that we speak again.
“Why were you knocking at Des’s door in the middle of the night?” On our wedding night, no less.
I look around, trying to figure out why I’m here, having a conversation with Malaki, instead of in bed with Des.
Seriously, where the hell is the Bargainer?
“How long have you been having dreams of the Thief of Souls?”
I focus on Malaki once more. “Since Solstice. Why?”
“You haven’t talked about them,” he says, leaning back in his seat.
Now that I get a good moment to study Des’s friend, I realize how out of place he looks here in the palace. He’s a hulking, massive man, and with that eyepatch he looks more like a pirate than some dainty fairy.
“Should I have?” I say. “They’re dreams.”
But I know better than that. Dreams are never just dreams, especially not these ones I’m having.
Malaki curses under his breath. “How long has Des known about them?”
“Since Solstice.”
The general rises from his seat, looking utterly terrifying.
“That fool,” he says darkly.
I don’t move, but my claws extend and my scales appear, my skin brightening just a touch. “Careful what you say about my mate.” My voice is soft and dangerous.
A slight to our mate is a slight to us.
Malaki stares down at me, his gaze growing distracted as he takes me in. “Do you know why they call me Lord of Dreams?” he asks.
Dreamweaver the Thief had called him.
“It’s because I am the best at what I do.” He doesn’t say this like he’s bragging. He states it like it’s a simple fact.
My skin dims back down. “And what is it you do?”
“I can spin dreams.”
His dark gaze pierces mine. “I design the setting, I bring in the people, I orchestrate the activities. I can pick an enemy’s mind apart this way—learn his weaknesses, discover his plans.
“Last night, for the first time ever, I met a force more powerful than my own. And not just slightly more powerful. My magic was all but useless against the Thief’s.”
The Thief of Souls told me small death was his realm.
Malaki rubs a hand down his face. “The Thief has an unhealthy obsession with you, Callypso. I didn’t understand the depth of it until tonight.”
Hearing those words come out of another’s mouth makes my flesh prick.
“Desmond admitted to me yesterday that Galleghar and the Thief of Souls share power,” Malaki says. “That they’re cobound.”
He pauses.
I wait for him to continue. The suspense has me tensing.
“Galleghar was an extremely powerful king, but from what I understand, he could never control dreams, much less slip into them. His magic lay in other, more tactical areas.”
I search Malaki’s face. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Galleghar couldn’t control dreams, he couldn’t put fairies to sleep, he couldn’t wear the skins of the dead. Whatever powers the former Night King bequeathed to the Thief, they don’t hold a candle to the ones the Thief already has.”
My heart is beating loudly. I can hear it like a drumbeat.
“We already knew the Thief of Souls was powerful,” I say.
Malaki shakes his head. “You’re not following. The Thief of Souls’ power eclipses mine—and it eclipses that of a king, a powerful one. And I fear—”
Commotion outside the room interrupts us. A moment later, the door bursts open and a royal guard steps inside.
“Your Majesty, My Lord,” the breathless guard says, nodding to each of us. “We can’t find the king, and—”
Wait, Des is not on the palace grounds at all?
“What is it?” the general asks, standing.
I stand too. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. At my back, my wings itch to come out.
“Sleeping soldiers,” the guard says. “More of them have broken through our portal, and now, they’re headed for the gates.”
Chapter 29
Malaki is already striding to the door. He points to me. “You need to bar yourself. Guards—”
He’s not being serious, is he?
“I’m coming with you,” I say, following the general out the doors. “I can stop them.”
Malaki lets out a breath. “Desmond would want me to protect you.”
Des, who’s noticeably absent.
“Desmond would love to see you try.”
Malaki mutters something about stubborn human women under his breath.
The two of us head down the hallway, surrounded by guards.
“I can stop the soldiers with my glamour,” I insist.
“Do you really think I’ve forgotten?” Malaki asks, his voice sharp. “The problem is the Thief knows that too. Whatever this is, it’s most certainly a trap.”
“I don’t care.”
Malaki grabs my upper arm, swiveling me around to face him. “Damnit, Callypso,” he growls, “you will listen to me!”
My skin brightens. “Let go of me.”
Malaki’s hand drops from my arm.
“No one talks to me that way,” I say, venom in my voice. “Not even Des, and definitely not you.”
“You are thinking with your head not your heart!” Malaki says. “I’ve seen hundreds of men killed for doing similar.”
My voice heats. “Do you really think I’m eager to run headlong into battle? That I want to be killed or captured and reunited with that monster we’ve been hunting? You forget—I’ve been his prisoner once before. I’ve seen what he does to the fairies he plays with.”
So long as I live, those memories will never leave me.
“What the fuck is going on now?” Temper’s voice carries from down the hall.
Startled, Malaki and I turn to face her.
My friend looks sleepy and disgruntled, but despite that, her hair is on point, and she still managed to slip on a glittering black dress.
She fairies it way better than I do.
I relax at the sight of her. The thing about being best friends for as long as Temper and I have is that half of our conversations don’t need words. All she has to do is take one look at my face and my exasperated expression, and her sharpened gaze slides to Malaki.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands.