Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 36

I can’t feel a thing.

I didn’t feel Temper’s touch when she held me in her arms, her skin like fire to my ice. I didn’t feel the bite of pain or gratitude when several Night fae collected us from that cavern. And I didn’t feel the lashing wind against my cheeks during the long journey back to Somnia.

It’s only once I’m deposited in my chambers and I take a shuddering breath, that I feel something.

Agony like no other. It weakens my knees and chokes the breath out of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is worse, so much worse, than feeling nothing. This pain is like a wound that’s bleeding me out.

Temper is still at my side, her fingers threaded through mine. I slip my hand out of hers.

“Leave me,” I say.

There’s no way she’d ever leave me if circumstances were normal. But my skin is still glowing and my glamour is still riding my words. My siren hasn’t left me since the battle, and even a sorceress as powerful as Temper can’t fight my magic.

“This is bullshit,” Temper mutters as her feet carry her out of the room. She grabs the door handle and opens the door. “Soon as your glamour wears off, I’m coming back for you.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and her voice gives way to silence.

My eyes sweep over the suite. Des’s wedding present to me.

A sob slips out, and my chest heaves with empty, silent cries. I wander to the infinity pool with its glowing water.

Step by step I slip into the pool, clothes and all. Beneath the surface my head slips.

This can’t be real. Pain like this doesn’t exist, and surely one can’t survive this sort of suffering.

I sink to the bottom of the pool and stare up through the water. From here I can hear the water rushing between my ears, and I can see the suite’s lamps glimmering far above me.

I could stay right here, forever, and I’d be fine with that. I don’t think a siren is capable of drowning, but I’m always willing to test that theory.

If I died, I’d be in the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth. Then I’d be back with Desmond, once and for all.

My throat tightens. He’s gone.

But I could join him. I could join him in the land of the dead—

That’s what the Thief wants.

I let out a moan, the sound warped beneath the water.

There’s no relief from this agony; not even death will be the end of it. If I died, I would fall under the Thief’s reign. Then the monster could wholly control me, and I doubt reuniting me with my mate is a part of his plan.

So I’m stuck here, in the land of the living, all while Des—

Des is dead.

Dead.

A sob slips out then, a burst of bubbles forming with the cry. But once I start weeping, I can’t seem to stop. My sirenic voice turns the sound into music, and it’s horrible that pain can sound lovely.

He’s gone, and I don’t know what to do.

That motherfucking Thief and his sick, twisted game. I’d played right into his hand the moment I decided to go after Galleghar. When I set foot into that cavern, the teeth of his trap had snapped shut around me.

Des is gone; Malaki and Janus are catatonic, victims of the same dark magic that compromised the sleeping soldiers.

And I am broken.

All my fault. If I hadn’t made the call to go after Galleghar, Des would be here still.

I close my eyes, my tears slipping into the water.

I don’t know how long I linger down at the bottom of the pool. Longer than a human could withstand. Eventually, someone leaps into the pool and scoops me up, dragging me out of the water.

I cough a little, my lungs heaving in a breath.

“Your Majesty!”

I blink at the fae soldier, the water dripping down my glowing skin.

He looks panicked. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t die. Our kingdom needs you.”

I’m not going to die.

I’m already dead.

What is death?

Do the dead ever truly die?

My breath catches on that last thought.

Do they?

Is Des still out there?

My gaze sharpens on the soldier. Behind him, the door hangs open. Temper must’ve tipped him off that I was not in a good place.

“We need you,” the Night soldier repeats, shaking me a little.

His words finally register.

Our kingdom needs you.

I work my throat. He wants me to be a queen. To step up and rule now that my mate cannot.

The last decision I made killed my mate.

But there’s no one else left to make decisions. Every other ruler is dead or incapacitated.

I swallow and nod. “Okay,” I say, my voice hoarse.

He sets me down. I’m dripping luminous water all over the floor.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, my voice raw.

I know nothing about being a queen.

The soldier’s gaze travels over me.

“Rule. Rule and save us.”

The royal guard leaves soon after that. I don’t know how I manage to convince him that I’m alright. I’m not, and I probably shouldn’t be alone, even though I can’t bear the thought of sharing this grief with anyone else. It feels strangely personal.

I ring out my hair and then begin the laborious task of unpeeling my clothes and dressing in something dry. Even after I do, my wet hair drips onto the clothes.

Right about now Des would’ve dried my hair for me. He does weird, considerate things like that all the time.

Did.

I sit down heavily on my bed—our bed—a piece of paper rustling beneath me. The violent, breathless pain of my grief is slipping like poison through my veins.

I cover my eyes. Ugly, aching sobs rack my body.

I let it out, I let it all out until I feel drained dry of the last of my tears. Placing my hands on my thighs, I take a deep breath.

That’s about when I finally notice the unassuming piece of parchment that I’m sitting on, the paper crinkling every time I shift. It rests there, like Des just carelessly left it on the bed. But Des doesn’t do anything carelessly.

I pull it out from under me. It’s actually two pieces of paper, one a formal-looking document and a smaller note written by a familiar hand. I have to put the back of my palm to my mouth to stop another round of sobs.

Don’t be frightened of yourself, cherub. You are exactly as you should be. From flame to ashes, dawn to dusk, I am yours always. Till darkness dies.

~Your Bargainer

Des knew he was going to die.

That’s what this is—a post-mortem love note.

Suddenly I’m angry, brutally, grievously angry at him.

My hand shakes, the paper crinkling.

That bastard. How dare he leave me.

I almost don’t read the other piece of paper, I’m so furious. But then, this is all I have left of him. A short note and another piece of parchment.

Grimacing, I smooth out the paper, my eyes trailing over the words written in formal stanzas.

The Prophecy of Galleghar Nyx

Mighty Nyx came,

Mighty Nyx sought,

All that he could,

Of his dark lot.

In the deep night,

His kingdom rose,

Beware, great king,

Of that which grows.

Easy to conquer,

Easy to crown,

But even the strongest,

Can be cut down.

Raised in the shadows,

Reared in the night,

Your child will come,

And ascend by might.

And you, the slain,

Shall wait and see,

What other things,

A soul can be.

A body to curse,

A body to blame,

A body the earth,

Will not yet claim.

Beware the mortal,

Beneath your sky,

Crush the human,

Who’ll see you die.

Twice you’ll rise,

Twice you’ll fall,

Lest you can,

Change it all.

Or perish by day,

Perish by dawn,

The world believes,

You’re already gone.

So darken your heart,

My shadow king,

And let us see,

What war will bring.

I stare at the words for a long time. Horror, fear, and fury all churn within me. My emotions feel like a roulette table, spinning round and round. I’m not sure which emotion will win out.

Is this supposed to mean something to me? Because it doesn’t.

I set the parchment aside, my emotions spinning, spinning until eventually, they land on something like grim determination.

I will finish this. I will find the Thief, I will kill him and Galleghar along with him, and then I will scour the underworld for my lost mate. I won’t stop until Des is mine again.

Nothing else will do.

A knock on the door jerks me from my thoughts.

“Your Majesty?” The soldier who left me not so very long ago now calls out from the hallway. I guess he doesn’t trust me enough after all to leave me alone.

“Come in,” I call. I almost don’t recognize my voice. It’s cool and collected, like my world hasn’t just been upended.

Des is not here. Oh God, he’s not here and I have to still function.

You’ve functioned without him once before, back when you thought you’d never see him again. You’re an old hand at this.

But back then I at least knew that the Bargainer was out there somewhere in the vast universe, sipping espressos out of tiny cups and making deals with desperate men.

The heart might in fact be the shittiest organ out there because it can feel love and love is a terrible thing.

Hate is a much better emotion.

I have plenty of hate.

I let it heat up my veins as I get up and open the door.

“Your Majesty,” the guard says from the hallway, “the Queen of Flora is here, and she’s seeking sanctuary.”