Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 31

It’s much, muchlater by the time I fall asleep. And when I do, the Thief is waiting for me in my dreams, just as I knew he would be.

“So you finally figured it out.” He reclines on his golden throne, and for the first time I see a king in him. Not the kind of king that Des is, dark and honorable and dastardly all at once.

This is the kind of king that you wither back from, the kind of king you hope never notices you.

I lay on the stone floor beneath him, sprawled out like I threw myself at his feet.

“Death is the one kingdom all these self-satisfied fae have forgotten,” he continues.

I don’t bother asking how he knows.

I remember Des’s reaction when I told him my realization. His astounded expression. The disbelief that followed, then the reluctant consideration and, lastly, his horrified acceptance.

Even now I can feel the way the Night King’s hands gripped my upper arms, squeezing them as I explained my reasoning.

He was thunderstruck, but in the end, I felt the hot rush of his pride. You figured it out, cherub. So many lives will be saved because you figured it out.

Trouble is, I’m not sure where we go from here. Knowing who the Thief is doesn’t make him easier to defeat. If anything, the fact that he rules over the dead is a new conundrum.

I mean, can you really kill a thing that lives among the dead? Is that even possible? Des hadn’t known when I’d asked, just as he hadn’t known how to get to the land of the dead without first dying.

The Thief rises from his throne and heads over to me as I begin to sit up. He crouches next to me on the floor. His hand goes to my neck, his flesh cold, so cold. Why had I never noticed that before?

“I will tell you a story,” he says, pushing me back down to the floor.

I don’t try to fight him, though the siren in me wants to. “I don’t really want to hear it,” I say, pinned beneath his hold.

“But I think you do, enchantress.” The Thief of Souls flexes his fingers, pressing lightly against my windpipe. I can tell he wants to do more, that the thought excites him. But like me, he reins in his wilder impulses.

“Many years ago a fairy hungered for power, and he did many terrible things to keep it,” he begins.

The cool floor bites into my skin, and the smell of old bones is back. I swear I can smell spoiled blood rotting away somewhere nearby.

“One day, this fairy discovered that his time would indeed end—unless he took measures to ensure it didn’t.” Another press of his fingers. “I was one of those measures.

“I slumbered for many years before Galleghar sought me out. But then his darkness touched mine, and I awoke.”

My brows knit. I don’t know what to make of his words. The Thief is the King of Death. I assumed that like other fae kings, he was born, he grew into a man, and at some point he inherited the throne. Not this business of him slumbering and waking. I don’t know what to do with that information.

“He gave me life so that one day I might return the favor.” The Thief’s eyes have grown distant. “And so I did, and here we are.”

I stare up at him. I can feel his need to squeeze the life out of me.

“Do it,” I taunt him. “Kill me. I know you want to.”

This is my base nature talking. My siren wants the pain and violence. She welcomes the chaos.

The Thief’s eyes thin, even as he smiles. “You are perhaps the only creature alive who dares my violence.” The Thief’s fingers dig in, and he begins choking me. He leans in close. “And I’m acquiring a taste for your foolish courage.”

Can’t breathe.

He leans in close, his mouth only inches from mine. A lock of his dark hair brushes my cheek.

Black dots are beginning to speckle my vision.

“You and I both know I can’t kill you here,” the Thief says, still squeezing my neck.

Need to breathe.

It’s starting to feel like he’s legitimately killing me.

“… But I can hurt you.” To emphasize his point, his grip tightens.

I haven’t moved, haven’t struggled. I want to, I want to claw him off of me, but a deeper, more insidious part of me is shaking off her own deep slumber, and she won’t give this monster anything.

I begin to smile at him, even as darkness creeps in from my vision. “If you want to hurt me—” I’m mouthing the words more than saying them. My surroundings are disappearing as the darkness closes in on my vision. “—you’re going to have to try harder …”

I gasp awake, taking in a lungful of air, then another and another. Overhead, I see silvery wings spread wide.

A moment later, Des’s face fills my vision. “You’re awake.” Relief thickens his voice.

I remember for the millionth time that when the Thief decides to commandeer my dreams, not even the King of the Night can wake me.

I can still feel the press of the Thief’s hand against my neck, and I swear I can taste death at the back of my throat.

Really should stop taunting the Thief.

“Why are your wings out?” I ask, shaking away the last vestiges of the dream.

“Do you know how often I fight this reaction with you?” Des says, sitting back on his haunches. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “A better question would be: why aren’t my wings out all the damn time? I either want to fuck you or fuck up someone for messing with you.”

I give the Bargainer a small smile, and then my eyes return to his wings. I trail my fingers over them again. “Which are you leaning towards at the moment?” I ask.

The Bargainer’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Both.” The expression quickly fades. He traces a knuckle along the side of my face. “You know this is almost over, right?”

I know he’s talking about the Thief of Souls, but for some horrifying reason, I assume he means us. The sheer fear at the thought—it paralyzes me.

Three abrupt raps on the door interrupt us.

“You Majesty,” Malaki calls through the door, “Galleghar has been spotted.”

It has to be another trap.

That’s what I think when I sit in the throne room next to Des, a strange fae creature standing before us.

“I ssssaw him. The oooold king.” The fae can barely speak coherent words out of its misshapen mouth. Its skin is the color of a bruise, its eyes are reptilian, and its body is thin and hunched.

I have no clue what creature this is, only that I’ve seen it before in one of Des’s sketches.

Des leans his chin on a hand, his pointer finger tapping against his cheek. “Where?”

“Barrrrbooosssss.”

My skin brightens.

“Are you working for him?” I ask, glamour dripping from my words. I don’t want a replay of the last time we learned of Galleghar’s whereabouts.

“Nooooo.”

“Does he know you’ve spotted him?”

“Nooooo.”

The Night King stops tapping his cheek. “What else do you know?”

That strange mouth twists. “He hidessss in the wildssss, in the tunnelsssss oooof ooooold. Many hellllp him. They willlll killlll any whoooo harm the ooooold king.”

“Why do they help him?” I ask.

“Theirrrr mindssss belooong toooo anooootherrr.”

I still in my seat.

Des stands, his frame imposing. “Who?”

But we already know.

“The Thief oooof Ssssoooulssss.”

“We need to make a decision,” Malaki says once the room clears. All that’s left are him, me, Des, and a handful of guards.

Desmond glances at me. “What should we do about Galleghar?”

He’s asking me like I’m a co-ruler.

I shake my head. I don’t want to make a decision like this. This is the whole reason why I’ve been running from the idea of being a queen. It’s one thing to handle a threat or interrogate a few fairies. It’s another to make a decision with an outcome you cannot know, one that might have far-reaching consequences.

I’m about to say, I don’t know, but damnit, my pride suddenly feels like it’s on the line, and I don’t want to disappoint Des.

Actually going to make a decision on this one. Fuck.

To go after Galleghar or not?

We know where the old king is, but we knew where he was last time, and he still got the drop on us.

However, if we do take him by surprise, then this could be the beginning of the end for both Galleghar and the Thief. The two share a bond. A bond I’m eager to break.

“I think it’s time we captured your father,” I say slowly.

Des stares at me for a long moment. Ever so slowly, a wicked smile spreads across his face. “The queen has spoken.”

Barbos isn’t as I remember it.

As Des and I descend onto the island—Malaki and Temper behind us—I get my first good look at the place since I last visited. The streets we fly over are more subdued, the sights and sounds muted. The rough crowd that usually revels out here is now largely gone. Those that remain seem to be looking over their shoulders, like they’re being watched.

The whole thing gives me chills.

You’re just reading into things.

At least we weren’t ambushed en route. I held my breath through most of the journey, waiting for Galleghar to drop in and fight us. But he never appeared.

Either we’re lucky, or the enchantments are doing their job.

I can feel the spells clinging to my skin, the magic insulating me like a coat. Before we left, several of Des’s men warded Temper, Malaki, Des, and I against enemy magic. Among other things, these enchantments hide us from our opponents’ view, rendering us all but invisible to fairies like Galleghar.

As we fly inland, the city gives way to dense jungle. Here and there the trees are illuminated by the glowing lights of various fae. It doesn’t look like a frightening place, and yet somewhere in there lurks a killer king.

Can’t believe we’re doing this. All because I gave Des the go-ahead. I still expect Galleghar to manifest in front of us, or for the Thief’s sleeping soldiers to close in from all sides. Nothing ever goes according to plan; why should this?

Yet it doesn’t happen. Galleghar and what’s left of the Thief’s army stay away, and the group of us fly sedately on, the only sound the whistle of the wind against our ears.

Des begins to dive towards the land, though this patch of jungle looks like all the others. I follow his lead, descending on the thick, dark foliage until my hands and feet skim the treetops, the leaves rustling against my skin.

The tangle of dense shrubbery doesn’t leave much room to land. I watch Des, seeing the way his wings tilt around trees, and I think I get it … until my wing clips a tree branch I didn’t see.

I yelp at the sting of pain, and my wing closes up reflexively. I tumble through the trees, hitting every branch that’s ever existed. I fall to the forest floor with a plop.

Motherfucking ow.

In an instant, the Bargainer appears at my side. “You’re still the clumsiest siren I’ve ever met,” he says, extending a hand to help me up.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter, taking his hand and letting him help me up

Malaki drops down next to me, Temper in his arms.

“Why don’t you wake up the entire jungle while you’re at it,” my best friend says when she steps out of the fairy’s arms.

Giving Temper an annoyed glare, I dust off my battle leathers, picking branches out of my hair. At least I didn’t lose my daggers; the twin blades remain strapped to my sides, their stone hilts gleaming.

I pat a back pocket. All four of us were given a pair of iron shackles, in case we happened to get in range of Galleghar. Like my knives, my set of handcuffs is right where it ought to be.

Des’s eyes sweep over the thick foliage. “Follow me,” he says to the group.

We walk for fifteen minutes, our footsteps silent. Around us, the jungle seems to be holding its breath.

It feels like the four of us are wandering aimlessly until Des stops. He toes the earth in front of him, then with a wave of his hand, the earth in front of him clears, revealing a flat, circular stone carved with symbols in Old Fae.

He glances up at me. “We’re here.”

Turning his attention back to the stone, the King of the Night whispers an incantation under his breath. The Old Fae symbols glow emerald for a moment, then the stone slides aside, revealing another freaking hole in the ground.

What is it with this dude and holes?

“Nuh uh,” Temper says, eyeing it the same way I am. “No one said anything about a tunnel. I got claustrophobia.”

Des’s eyes briefly flick to her before landing on mine. “You can opt out too,” he tells me.

I shake my head. “I’m coming with you.”

I go where Des goes.

His eyes glitter. “Then I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom.” With that, he takes a step and drops into the earth.

“Shiit,” Temper swears behind me.

I glance at her, then Malaki. The general looks menacing in the darkness. He’s not too pleased that Temper and I are here, putting ourselves in the line of fire, but he hasn’t tried to stop either of us the way he tried last time.

Taking a breath, I sit down at the edge of the hole, dipping my feet into the darkness. My boot bangs against a ladder set into the side of the hole, and I slide my body down until I can grab the handholds.

And then I begin to descend.

I can’t say how far down I have to climb, only that when I reach the bottom of the hole, Des is there waiting for me, his form illuminated by orbs of light.

“Brave siren,” he says as I drop the last few feet to the ground.

This isn’t bravery. Bravery is facing whatever lies at the end of these tunnels.

Before I respond, I hear Malaki’s heavy weight as he clambers down the ladder. It’s only once I step away from the hole that the general releases his hold on the ladder and drops the rest of the way to the ground, landing heavily on the damp earth.

The general straightens, looking back up at the opening.

As if on cue, I hear angry muttering far above us, followed by the agitated pound of Temper’s feet against the ladder.

When she reaches the bottom, she hops off the ladder and glares at each one of us. “Let the record show that I am not happy about this.”

“You could’ve waited for us above,” I say.

“I’m not going to wait in some random jungle while my friends hunt a bloodthirsty king. This shit is my jam.”

Aww, she said friends, plural. Someone’s learning how to play nice with others.

Des’s eyes sweep over us, and then he turns and begins striding down one of the tunnels. How he knows which to take is beyond me.

Overhead tree roots cling to the curve of the ceiling, illuminated by orbs of light that bob along above us. Small, fae creatures scurry along the roots, one pausing to hiss at the air in our direction, like it senses something is off. But it doesn’t see us.

“What is this place?” Temper asks, staring at one of the orbs of light as it softly bounces among the tree roots.

“The Angels of Small Death used to use tunnels like these to move sensitive goods,” Malaki says, his voice rumbling.

Ironic that the authority they once hid from is now the criminal they’re after.

I glance at our surroundings with new eyes. Des and Malaki must’ve worked within these tunnels for years, moving illegal items, hoarding treasure, and hiding from the king’s men. The whole thing is so surreal to me—this place and all of the lives Des lived long before he was mine.

He was always ours, my siren says.

I stare at the Bargainer’s broad back. I know he’d say the same thing.

The tunnel seems to stretch on for an eternity, and the farther we go, the more my skin prickles. Maybe it’s the close quarters, or the darkness, or being underground—or maybe it’s the man we’re after, but something just doesn’t sit right with me.

Des stops, putting up a hand. “Galleghar is just ahead,” he breathes.

Reflexively, my hand goes to my dagger.

Des begins walking again, and mechanically, I follow him.

Up ahead the tunnel opens into a room, but I don’t see just how massive the chamber really is until we enter it. We must be beneath a hill, for the ceiling arcs high above us. It’s as big as some of the palace ballrooms I’ve been in, though this one lacks all of the beauty and refinement of those fae palaces, the walls here made of plain packed earth. It’s a room meant to store a warehouse’s worth of goods. At the moment, however, it’s mostly empty, save for a few bags of gold.

Well, a few bags of gold … and an undead king.

Across the room Galleghar sits in a throne of sorts. It’s the saddest sight, seeing him slouched in that silver chair, as though waiting to hear the grievances of an audience that never comes.

His storm-grey eyes are turbulent as they stare off into the distance, and I get a chill, looking at that nefarious face which is so similar to my mate’s.

He can’t see us. The enchantments really did work. We’re standing right in front of Galleghar, yet we’re utterly invisible to the tyrant king.

Floating in the air in front of him is a piece of unrolled parchment, and at his side is a meal—both which he appears to have forgotten about.

Is this what he does all day? Hide and ponder and plot?

My eyes move over the room again. There’s a honeycomb of entrances and exits into this chamber, and I have no idea how I’m going to figure out which one to take when we leave.

A worry for later, once Galleghar is ours.

It seems so easy. He’s right there in front of us. All we have to do is pluck him from his knock-off throne, slap a pair of iron cuffs on his wrists, and take him back to Somnia.

Maybe it would’ve played out that way, but we’ve only taken a few short steps towards him when the air around us wavers. Just as it does, I feel the enchantments dissolving away.

Pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to happen.

In an instant, Galleghar’s eyes dart to us. I catch the flicker of surprise in them, but then his face breaks out into a cold, malicious smile.

“My ill-begotten son, we meet again.”