Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 45

When I rise from the water, the dead cling to my clothes, not wanting to release me. Eventually—and reluctantly—they do. I gave them the blood they demanded, after all.

They slip back into the pool where they wait for whatever it is that the rulers of the underworld do with the souls of the dead.

Now that the Thief is well and truly gone, his staggering magic lifts from the air, and the room around me brightens.

The siren’s savage nature is still riding me hard. I want to kiss and touch and taste and torment. I want it all so badly that my wings and claws throb.

I’ve only taken a step or two when Des appears several feet from me.

I come to a stop, and I don’t dare breathe.

This feels like a spell, one that will be broken the moment I move.

We stare at each other for one beat, then two. And then the spell is broken.

Des disappears, only to reappear right in front of me. The Night King crushes me to him, and it is everything I’ve needed.

I gather his shirt into my fists as his lips find mine. Suddenly, it feels like I can breathe again, like the world has colors and purpose and joy because Desmond Flynn, King of the Night, is alive and in my arms.

He tastes like magic and mayhem. I want to laugh; I’m sure I’m going to cry. Des is no dream, no apparition that will be swept away when the Thief has had his fun.

Somehow, he outwitted death.

When the kiss ends, I stare up at him. Those pale, silver eyes, that softness right around his mouth, all those planes of his face that are so very heartbreaking—I didn’t know I could miss anything so damn badly.

“You’re real, right?” I whisper.

“I’m real.” The Night King is giving me that gaze of his, the one that makes me feel like I’m something worthy of worship.

“I thought I lost you—” My voice breaks.

The corner of his mouth curves up, and he looks at me so tenderly. “There are many uncertainties in life, but this one thing holds true: I will always come back to you, cherub.”

Des is not just darkness. He’s moonlight and stardust; he’s wishes and adventure and a love as vast as the night sky.

And he’s here, alive.

He’s alive.

A flash of anger flares through me, and I give him a light shove. “I thought you were dead.”

He smiles, catching my wrist. “Aww, cherub,” he says. “Don’t be mad.”

“Don’t aww, cherub me, Des,” I say, yanking my wrist out of his grasp. “You can’t even know what it was like,” I say hoarsely. “You can’t.” I couldn’t dream up a nightmare worse than that. Those hours I spent lamenting him.

Des closes the last of the space between us, his face turning somber. “I can, Callie. I almost lost you once.” His eyes pinch shut and he gives his head a shake. “I’m so sorry,” he says. He opens his eyes, his gaze blazing. “For deceiving you and forcing you to experience that. There is no worse hell.”

There really isn’t.

“And I’m so sorry for making you face the Thief alone.” He takes my hand and cups it between his. “Never again,” he vows, his voice fierce.

I take a deep breath and pull myself together. Now that Des is alive and burning with his own brightness, my skin has finally started to dim, my wings and claws and scales disappearing from view.

“I want more than promises and apologies from you,” I say.

Des’s eyes brighten and a corner of his mouth lifts when he realizes exactly what I’m asking.

He brings his wrist up in front of himself. As I watch, a strand of spider silk forms around it, then a dull black bead.

“Is this fair?” he asks.

A deal. One that I get to claim.

I give him a skeptical look. “One bead? I endured my soulmate’s death and faced down a god, and all I have to show for it is one measly bead?”

“Demanding siren. Fine.”

A second bead appears next to the first.

I give Des another light shove, a laugh slipping out. The laugh turns into a sob. And the sob … the sob gives way to ugly, heaving tears.

And that’s how this fearsome siren ends up sitting on the Bargainer’s lap in the Death King’s throne room, listening to the Bargainer sing her a fae lullaby, his head pressed to hers.

It was bound to happen. The last bit of my bravery was spent killing Euribios. I’ve got nothing left.

“I love you, cherub,” Des murmurs. “More than any fairy has a right to love anything.” He sweeps away my tears with his thumbs.

I nod against him.

“I’ll add a whole row of black beads to the bracelet—several rows. Just please stop crying. I can’t bear the sight of you sad.” He punctuates the sentiment by taking my hand and kissing the base of my palm. And then he kisses each fingertip, and the whole thing is so ridiculously sweet that I choke up again.

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths. It’s a physical thing, putting myself back together, but eventually I do it.

I open my eyes and cup Des’s face. “I love you.” I smile a little as I say it.

I rise to my feet, pulling the Bargainer up after me. He still wears his crown, and he looks every bit the fairy king.

He squeezes my hand, and I think that’s his way of seeing if I’m ready to leave this room, and God am I ready, but before we go, I notice a discarded shirt several feet away. It’s Euribios’s shirt—he must’ve removed it right before he entered the pool.

Walking over to it, I pick the shirt up. Des eyes it curiously as I begin to twist the cloth round and round, turning the shirt into a makeshift rope. I then slide the rope through my belt loops.

There’s a box this belongs in, a box that sits in a house with sandy floors and chipped countertops. A box that all my most prized relics go in.

“It’s a memento,” I say, tying off the Thief’s shirt.

Des’s gaze turns capricious. “You may not live in the ocean, Callie, but you are every inch the siren.”

I don’t know much about sirens, other than the few lines I’ve found in dusty school textbooks and what I’ve learned myself, but collecting macabre mementos of my victims seems about right.

The Bargainer’s gaze sweeps over the pool. The waters are still humming, the sound pricking my skin.

His eyes drop to me. “You’ve never been more fearsome than you were when you took down the Thief,” he says.

I remember my magic singing through my veins and the thrill of watching my victim bend to my will, a god whose immortal life I stole because I ordered him to die.

“You were watching?” I ask.

Des should be frightened of me, not impressed. But I guess I’m overlooking the fact that my husband is a cold-blooded killer.

“How could I not? I’m a terribly curious creature.”

So he watched me kill. I wonder if he thinks of me differently.

People like us are someone’s nightmare.

Then again, maybe he always thought of me differently; I just finally lived up to his dark imaginings.

The two of us leave the throne room, winding our way back through the palace.

Des’s eyes study our surroundings. “So this is the Palace of Death and Deep Earth,” he says. “I got to admit, I was expecting a little more.”

“A little more of what? Ghosts?”

Because I saw plenty.

Not going to get those little ghostly fuckers out of my head for a long while.

“My mother used to tell me tales of the monsters that lurked in the land of the dead.”

I’d bet money the Thief hunted them all down for sport long ago.

“Are you going to tell me how you did it?” I ask, interrupting his reverie.

Des gives me a sly look. “How I tricked the Thief of Souls?”

“No, how you learned to whistle. Of course, how you tricked the Thief.”

Like pulling teeth with this one. I’m going to need every century of my newly long life to tease out this man’s secrets.

His eyes spark with delight at my attitude; Des likes me best with my claws out.

“Now, cherub, you know these secrets are going to cost you.”

“Des!”

He laughs. “Two words: kinky sex. If you can agree to it, I’ll sing like a choir boy and tell you everything.”

We both nearly died—the whole world almost fell to the Thief—and this is what he’s thinking about right now? Kinky sex?

I narrow my eyes.

“Promise you’ll enjoy it, wife. I’m vividly imagining pressing you up against the side of our pool and licking that glowing water from between your—”

My skin is starting to glow, which is hugely embarrassing.

“Fine. But you’re going to tell me everything.”

“It began with Solstice.”

The two of us have stopped walking so that Des can explain himself.

“When I discovered that the Thief of Souls—Euribios—had wanted you to drink the lilac wine so you’d be vulnerable to his magic, I learned three things: One, the Thief was a clever bastard. Two, he wanted you. And three, it seemed that no fae was immune to his magic. He could put any of us to sleep the same way he had all of those soldiers; the only thing holding him back was his own scheming.”

My mind is racing, listening to this.

“I knew the Thief was waiting for the right moment to exact his plans—whatever they were—and I couldn’t let that happen.” Des’s eyes fall heavily on mine. “Not when I knew he wanted you.

“So I began devising a plan of my own, one that would save you and the Otherworld. I altered it as new information came in about the Thief. And once I discovered he was not just a god, but the god of darkness, I knew that even my power was useless against him.”

And yet, somehow Euribios still died.

Des threads his fingers through mine. “I’m sorry that I didn’t confide in you, Callie. He was using shadows to watch us.”

Of course. If Des had told me his plans, the Thief would’ve learned of them, and the element of surprise would’ve been lost.

“My father’s prophecy—” he continues, “I knew the human it mentioned was you, so I knew that not only could Galleghar fall, but the Thief could be taken down with him.”

My brows knit. “How could you be sure the prophecy was about me?” I ask.

The corner of Des’s mouth curves up. “Shadows are not the only creatures who tell me secrets. There are pixies and diviners and all sorts of other fae that have secrets to share.”

So my mate learned I was destined to stop Galleghar. That truth sits heavy in me. I was fated to be a killer centuries before I was even born. I try not to shudder at the thought.

“At some point, it came to me. How to truly stop Euribios.”

He pauses dramatically.

I give him a devastating look. “And?”

He laughs. “You’re adorable when you’re impatient.” He pulls me close and wraps a lock of my hair. “I made two deals—one with the Thief of Souls—and another with the shadows. With the Thief, I agreed to willingly become his prisoner, so long as neither you nor I died.”

The Thief hadn’t been able to get his hands on Des until that deal. Not when the Night King made a habit of obliterating the fae the Thief controlled. So Des came to him and struck a deal that made my mate seem weak and desperate. And Euribios, in all his pride and power, believed it.

“With the shadows,” Des continues, “I promised to rid them of Euribios for once and for all if they were willing to deceive him.”

The shadows that wouldn’t speak of the Thief of Souls.

“That’s a big promise,” I say. “How did the shadows do it?”

“You mean, how did they trick the Thief?”

I nod.

“Power is sentient—it can make decisions for itself.”

Des and I knew that better than most. It was what kept us apart for seven years.

“The shadows are a part of that sentience,” Des continues, “and they are what Euribios derives his power from—as do I.

“And that was the Thief’s fatal mistake. The god forgot that our power comes from the same source, a source has its own free will. So the shadows and I—we tricked him.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I spoke to the darkness during the only times I knew the Thief wasn’t listening—when you dreamed of him.”

All those sick dreams—Des couldn’t stop them from happening, but he could use them against the Thief.

“The shadows told me everything I needed to know, and it was them who helped me strike the deal with Euribios. And when the time came, it was the shadows that severed the Thief’s hold on me.”

He trusted the darkness with everything that mattered to him. .

“Why do you think the shadows helped you?” I ask. For years they’d been unwilling to breathe a word against the Thief.

Des stares down at me, his gaze intense. “Even before I could really use my power, I spoke to the darkness. They were my first friends.”

I think of that lonely, pale-haired boy who lived on Arestys, and my heart aches for him, even though that boy’s struggles made him the man I love.

“Euribios brutalized them just as he brutalized the fae. He abused them into submission eons ago, until the God of Light defeated him and freed the shadows. But then my father unleashed Euribios, and the shadows were forced to cower before his power once more.

“It’s not in the nature of shadows to be disloyal—even to terrible creatures—but they learned what it was like to exist outside of fear, and that is not something you can forget.”

What Des doesn’t add is that fear probably wasn’t the only factor that swayed these shadows. Desmond Flynn is beloved by the darkness.

“And so, with your help,” I say, “the shadows turned on their god.”

Des squeezes my hand, his eyes flashing in a very fae way.

“And so they did.”

After the Bargainer finishes explaining himself, we continue heading back through the palace. My thoughts are spinning a mile a minute from all that Des has told me. Faked deaths, disloyal shadows, and the secrets that saved us all.

I only shake off these thoughts when the two of us enter the room I found Des in. The altar still rests where I last saw it, along with all those shelves of potions and medical instruments and books with gilded titles. On the floor are my discarded weapons and the shattered remains of the objects previously knocked from the shelves.

None of that, however, is what catches the Bargainer’s attention.

His gaze locks on the slumped form on the other end of the room. In an instant he disappears from my side, reappearing—wings and all—next to the body of Galleghar Nyx.

I pace over to my discarded weapons, fastening them back on before I dare to creep closer to Des and his father. Part of me is fearful that Galleghar is still alive. Evil fathers have a way of defying death. In fact, this whole situation has the ring of déjà vu to it, only my and Des’s roles are reversed.

The Bargainer kneels, his white blond hair skimming his jawline as he stares down at the man who gave him life and death in equal measure.

“Is he dead?” I ask.

“Quite.” Des’s gaze travels over him.

The Bargainer’s hand touches one of his father’s chest wounds. He studies Galleghar’s injuries for a long time before he finally glances up. “He was right to fear you. You did kill him in the end.”

“That was the Thief.”

“You killed the Thief, and with the Thief’s death, the bond they shared broke. The Thief could no longer keep Galleghar’s death at bay.”

Birds, meet stone.

There are still so many questions I have—like why Euribios woke Galleghar when he did, and why the old god decided to uphold his end of their bargain when he so obviously could’ve broken his oath—but I fear I won’t get answers.

As we stare down at Des’s dead father, a spectral hand separates itself from Galleghar’s body, then an arm.

Oh geez, I forgot where we were.

The Thief was right about one thing: the dead don’t ever really die if you’re kicking it in the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth. They just change form.

A chill runs over me. Is that what happened to the Thief? Did he just change form?

No, I refuse to believe that.

Des stands, grimacing down at the man. “I wonder if it’s possible to beat the shit out of spirits …”

I take Des’s hand as Galleghar’s spirit begins to separate from his body. “Leave your father to his fate.” I’m sure even the afterlife has its own form of punishment for the wicked.

With that, the two of us leave the room and Des’s father behind.

Before we leave, we free the prisoners locked in the castle’s dungeons. There are forty-four of them in total, all that remains of the prior ruling house.

Their bodies are scarred and emaciated, their eyes have lost that spark hope. One look at them and it’s clear that the Thief won’t be the last struggle this kingdom faces.

And yet, not an hour after they’re released, several of them have moved to the dock, pointing at this or that section of the neglected ship. And the ferryman I saw earlier now wades through the Well of Resurrection, pulling out the spirits, one by one. It’s one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot at this point.

Des steps up to me, his fingers entwining through mine. “Much as I’ve enjoyed our revelries here, I do believe it’s time to go, Callie.”

God, I couldn’t agree more.

We make our way through the castle and back out the front doors.

Above us, the darkness has fled. There’s a sun low on the horizon and cotton candy skies above us. Under the light, even the pale gardens look different—less ominous and more peaceful.

The two of us walk down the path that winds its way from the castle entrance to the archway I passed through earlier, only from this side, the doorway doesn’t quite look the same.

We come to a stop in front of it. On this side, two stone doors are fitted into the enormous archway. Extending from either side of them are massive stone walls that encircle the palace grounds.

I eye the barred gates in front of us. Just before I think we might have to smash into it, the doors creak open, revealing the inky darkness of the Pit beyond it.

“That was … easy,” I say.

All the myths promised that escape from the land of the dead was impossible. But what do I know? No one gave me a guidebook to this place.

“The hard part is coming up,” Des says ominously.

The two of us walk through the gateway, and I only have to struggle a little against whatever enchantments have been placed on it.

When we enter the Pit, Des illuminates the space. He whistles at the sea of skeletons. “That’s a lot of dead bodies.”

It’s a sad sight, but at least the fairy who drove these soldiers to their deaths has now been stopped.

Des comes over to me and wraps a hand around my waist. At his back, his talon-tipped wings shimmer into existence.

“Hold on, cherub,” he says.

“What are you—?”

He launches us up, and the rush of air steals away my words.

Unlike the trip down, nothing touches either Des or me as we ascend. The creatures are either still under my glamour … or they know better than to harm their king.

We barrel upwards for who knows how long before I start to feel it.

Magic.

It bears down on us, pressing against my skin, wanting us to stay in the land of the dead. The higher we climb, the heavier it is. And then it’s not simply pushing down upon us, but inside us, clawing against our flesh from the inside out. It feels like the time I flew on an airplane when I had a sinus infection. My ears are screaming at the pressure, my skin is starting to sting.

We’re never going to make it.

“There’s no easy way to do this, cherub, but it’ll be over soon,” Des says against me.

You mean it’s going to get worse?

The thought has hardly crossed my mind when it does in fact get worse. God it does. My skin lights up as I begin to moan. My entire body is getting crushed by the weight of the magic.

I’m just about to let loose the mother of all screams when—

BOOM!

The magic explodes around us, rippling over my skin.

And then we’re through.

I can sense it stitching itself back together beneath us. I glance down at the darkness, unnerved. It was so easy to enter the land of the dead, like easing into a tub, but near impossible to escape it.

It’s as I gaze into the Pit that I see the glint of a pair of eyes, trapped on the other side of the magical barrier. They stare at me for a moment before plunging back into the inky shadows.

A shudder works its way through me. Good riddance.

When we crest the ridge of the Pit, I catch sight of hundreds of fae who’ve have gathered around it.

News of my face-off with the King of Death and Deep Earth clearly spread.

And at the front of them is Temper, who looks immensely relieved.

As soon as the crowd sees us, they begin to cheer, the night alighting with the sounds of claps and whistles and sparks of light.

We land in front of Temper.

She grabs me, hugging me tightly. “Thank fuck you’re back,” my best friend says. “You were gone for too long.”

Des steps up to us, and Temper opens one of her arms. “You get in here too, Desmond. You’re my brother now.”

He steps in with a shy smile, letting my best friend crush him in our embrace.

“Did you kill that motherfucker?” Temper asks, releasing us.

I meet her eyes. “What do you think?”

She stares at me for a moment, then lets out a laugh. “Ha-ha, you badass bitch. I hope you gave him my regards before you blew his ass to smithereens.”

I shake my head, a whisper of a smile curling my lips.

Des breaks away from us to rise into the air.

The crowd, which had been murmuring upon our arrival, now quiets.

My mate’s eyes move over the group of them. “For the last decade, our kingdom has been plagued by the Thief of Souls.” Magic amplifies Des’s voice, and it booms out into the night. “He kidnapped our soldiers, raped our women, and started a war among our world. He destroyed our peace and the sanctity of our kingdom.

“It was only recently that we discovered that the Thief of Souls had raided the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth and taken the throne by force. Days ago, he took me hostage, keeping me prisoner in his castle.

“When all the world thought me lost, my soulmate—your queen—marched down to the gates of the underworld and faced the Thief head on.”

No one speaks, though I feel all sorts of eyes move to me.

Des gestures for me to join him where he hovers in the sky. Reluctantly, I do.

Once I’m by his side, he stares at me. I can see an entire universe in his moonlit eyes.

“But Callypso Lillis, Queen of the Night, didn’t just face any foe. The Thief of Souls was none other than Euribios, the primordial god of death and the dark.”

There are intakes of breath throughout the gathered crowd, then thoughtful murmurs as they take me in.

“Your queen faced Euribios, and she vanquished him.”

Gasps. I can feel those gazes on me like the hands of the dead. But it’s the Bargainer’s gaze that holds me rapt. He gives me a soft smile before announcing to the gathered crowd. “The Thief is no more.”

Back in Somnia, the royal prison is suddenly full of very confused fae soldiers. Among them are Janus and Malaki.

“Has someone been naughty while I’ve been away?” Des asks from the other side of the bars.

“What is going on?” Janus demands as the iron door slides back.

“Callie killed one of your great and mighty gods,” Temper says from where she stands next to me. “Not to be rude, but y’all got some weak ass gods if this bitch can trounce them,” she says, nudging me.

“Hey!”

“What?” the sorceress says. “I’m kidding.”

“Temper.” Malaki’s deep voice has my friend sobering up.

He steps up to her, ignoring me and Des and every other individual swarming the halls of the dungeon. His eyes are fixed on Temper, and his wings—his wings are out.

He touches her cheek, and that’s all it takes for my fiery friend to soften. She slips into Malaki’s arms.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she says, “or I’ll kill you myself.”

Des’s general holds Temper tightly, and it’s a testament to whatever they’ve got going on that he doesn’t take that threat the wrong way.

Janus looks between us. “Seriously, is anyone going to tell me why I’m in the Night Kingdom’s dungeon?”

The Bargainer’s eyes fall on me while he plays with the beads on his bracelet. “The queen and I would be delighted to fill you in—” he says to Janus, “for a price, of course.” He winks at me.

Eight years ago, this began with a dead man and a deal. And now, here we are, with a few more dead men and a few more deals under our belts.

I take Des’s hand, and the two of us lead the group out of the dungeon.

The King of the Night brings our clasped hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of mine. His silver eyes gleam.

This man.

He’s the Bargainer who saved my life over and over again, and the king who I ended up saving, a time or two.

He’s a trickster, a secret-keeper. He’s the dark side of the moon. He’s my beautiful, terrible mystery.

My friend. My soulmate.

From flame to ashes, dawn to dusk—until darkness dies.

He’s mine, and I’m his, always.