Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 7

Des broods next to me, the hallway we walk down darkening with his presence.

“You could’ve let me finish the interrogation,” I finally say. I mean, he’s not the only one who’s in a ripe mood. I have blood caked in my hair, I’m running on half a night’s worth of sleep, my bones want to give out from post-battle exhaustion, and I needed coffee hours ago.

“You walk on thin ice right now, Callie,” the Bargainer growls.

I swivel to face him, his words riling me up. “I’m the one on thin ice?” I say, my voice rising. “You’re the one who screwed the prisoner.”

Brought that up sooner than I intended.

“Two centuries ago,” Des says. “Do you expect me to give you a formal apology for every person I’ve slept with? Because if so, I damn well better receive the same from you.”

“You are insane.”

The Night King disappears from my side only to reappear in front of me, his body blocking the way and forcing me to stop.

“You goaded him,” he growls. “You goaded the Thief of Souls to find you.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair, the movement exposing one of his pointed ears. “Can you not see, this is the same reason I stopped taking you on my bargains when you attended Peel Academy.”

I’d glamoured a man back then too … a man who, ironically enough, knew information on the Thief of Souls. He’d been willing to die rather than share his knowledge, and still I made him talk.

I still flush at the memory. And now the Bargainer is essentially saying that in all that time, I haven’t changed.

I take issue with that. “I’m already in the Thief’s line of sight. I will not let that monster provoke me without provoking him back.”

A muscle in the Bargainer’s face ticks. He steps in close. “You want to know a secret, cherub?” he asks, his voice dropping low. “Earlier this evening, when I tried to stop all those sleeping soldiers back in our chambers—it didn’t work.”

There was that moment in his bedroom when I thought he’d bleed into the darkness and end those sleeping soldiers just as he had Karnon and his men. But he hadn’t been able to.

“Do you want to know why that wouldn’t work?” Des asks. He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “The darkness is loyal to its own—it won’t hurt another fairy that wields its power.”

I feel the first thread of unease at his words.

“That means the Thief is one of my kind—he’s a Night fae.”

My knees go a little weak. A Night fae? One who is impervious to Des’s magic?

He is not impervious to ours, my siren whispers, her voice seductive.

The King of the Night cups my face. “I am mad with fear for you,” he says, his voice pitched low. “It feels like the wheels of fate are pushing you closer and closer to the Thief, and nothing I do can prevent it. That terrifies me.”

To hear Des admit to being afraid … it’s like that moment as a child when you see an adult cry for the first time. Like the person you depended on to have their shit together really doesn’t. It’s the kind of thing that shakes your world.

“I am sorry you had to hear about my … past … the way you did,” he says hoarsely.

I think this is an apology.

He leans in close, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. “But I will admit, I greedily drank up your reaction.” With that confession, his lips press against mine.

It’s stupid how fast his kiss can banish my frayed nerves. He kisses away our discussion, his taste and touch consuming my thoughts. And even though the day is a mess, and I’m a mess, and the Otherworld has gone to crap, for a few blissful seconds, everything is as it should be.

All I want right now is a shower, coffee, and bed—preferably all at the same time. Don’t tell me it can’t happen; I’m in the Otherworld, impossible is this place’s middle name.

But am I going to get what I want?

Nope.

Instead I have to freaking adult it, which means hauling my butt into some random room in the castle and making sense of the clusterfuck that is the present state of affairs.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Temperance Darling, my best friend, colleague and fellow troublemaker, calls out as soon as we enter.

She sits alongside Malaki and several fae officials, her ankles propped on the table in front of her. Her eyes move over me. “And damn girl, looks like the cat didn’t just drag you in, it had a little fun with you too.”

My relief at seeing Temper alive is quickly eclipsed by her words. I spare my bloody battle leathers a glance before I take in Temper. She wears a white jumpsuit, and that outfit is pristine.

Next to her Malaki looks stern, his scar especially stark beneath his eyepatch. He keeps opening and closing his hands, and I get the distinct impression that he wants to hurt something.

As soon as he sees Des, he stands and crosses the room in a few quick strides. He brings his friend in close, slapping him on the back.

I move to the seat next to Temper. “You could take a few tips from him,” I say.

She waves the comment away. “Hugs are for pussies.”

I let out a little snicker, grabbing the cup of coffee resting in front of her and taking a sip from it.

“Hey, bitch, that was mine.”

“Awww,” I say, giving her a precious look, “does someone have trouble sharing?” I take a long drink from it.

Temper’s eyes narrow. “Careful I don’t hex that coffee to splash you in the face every time you drink it,” she says.

I smile over the rim of the coffee. “Careful I don’t glamour you to tell Malaki how you really feel about him.”

To be honest, I don’t even know if my magic works on humans anymore. But she doesn’t need to know that.

Temper shakes her head. “That’s low, Callie.”

The two of us fall to silence, watching Des and Malaki grip each other’s shoulders and make all sorts of man-oaths about dying by the blade to protect one another and yadda, yadda, yadda.

“Malaki is just being excessive,” Temper says. “We heard hours ago that you two were okay.” She nudges my shoulder with her own. “Heard you can now glamour fae.” She puts her fist out, and I bump my knuckles against hers. “Fuck yeah, my girl.”

Des and Malaki speak in low tones for a little longer. Something the Night King says causes Malaki to chuckle, and something the general says draws Des’s eyes to me, his gaze intense enough to make my stomach flutter.

He pulls away from his friend and heads over to the table, taking a seat next to me. His hand falls to my thigh as he nods at each of the advisors seated at the table who’ve also been waiting for us. A few of the advisors cast me and Temper curious looks. I doubt they’re used to having humans (former or otherwise) at these meetings.

“I’m glad to see everyone alive and well,” Des begins as Malaki takes his seat. “Let’s get straight to the matter: the Night Kingdom fell under siege tonight at the hands of our own people. What do we know about the situation?”

And thus, the talks begin.

The group of us rehash what we already know—a bunch of sleeping soldiers woke up from their long slumber, each possessed with the need to kill and maim and conquer. Then we tally up the dead and wounded, then note the damage wrought to the kingdom.

“We were not alone,” one of the advisors says. “We received reports from the other three kingdoms that they too were attacked.”

My dream floods back to me in all its vividness. Of the Thief standing amongst those poisoned oaks as they splintered open. I don’t know where the line between fantasy and reality is anymore.

“The Kingdom of Flora fell,” the advisor continues.

The Kingdom of Flora … fell?

The phrasing conjures up images of those giant cedar trees toppling to the ground, of the earth swallowing up the palace whole. It doesn’t do the truth justice—

An entire city was likely cut down. All those people just … gone.

I can’t process that sort of devastation. Not when we were just there. I danced and drank and reveled alongside Flora fairies. They might not have been my favorite people, but now knowing the deadly task those sleeping soldiers set out to accomplish …

“How many died?” I ask.

The room is silent, and the advisor looks helplessly at me while another shakes her head.

Too many.

All those sleeping men … the kingdom never stood a chance.

Malaki tosses a sheet of parchment into the middle of the table. “We’ve heard rumors that Mara got out in time, but the same cannot be said for the rest of Flora’s citizens.

Des flicks his wrist, and the parchment slides his way. The Bargainer’s eyes skim the notes.

“Fauna is gone as well,” Malaki continues. “Though from our reports, few died. There was no resistance for the soldiers to crush.”

There wouldn’t even be a palace to invade. All of that was wiped clean when Des rescued me from Karnon.

“The Kingdom of Day has defeated its foes for the time being,” another advisor adds.

My gaze moves to the table in front of us. Painted onto it is a map of the Otherworld.

The mainland has been completely captured. The only places left unconquered are the Kingdoms of Day and Night, those that float in the sky.

Temper leans forward. “How did that pretty boy king manage to defeat them?”

Malaki frowns, and it might be my imagination, but I’m fairly sure it bothers him that Temper thinks that Janus, the King of Day, is in fact, pretty. Particularly when it’s so obvious that Malaki isn’t pretty, with his eye patch and scar.

Clearly, he doesn’t realize that his ferocious beauty is just as appealing.

But now’s not the time to tell Malaki that pretty was never Temper’s type, or that Des’s general should be more worried about Temper ravaging his man bits to death than her having a wandering eye. She’s loyal to a fault.

“I imagine we’ll find out soon enough,” Des says, tapping his fingers on the table. His gaze moves from person to person. “The conquered kingdoms will regroup, and then they’ll turn their sights on us,” he says grimly. “My mate’s glamour can’t save us all. We need to figure out another strategy. This time, I want to be ready for them.”

After Des deals out official orders, he dismisses his advisors, leaving just himself, Malaki, Temper and me in the room.

“If we’re going to defeat the Thief of Souls,” the Night King says, “we need to do more than simply have a good defense against his forces. We need to figure out once and for all who and what he really is and where he’s hiding.”

“What if we went after Galleghar?” I say.

Galleghar Nyx, the formerly dead Night King is somehow decidedly no longer dead. Back in the Flora Kingdom, he’d been responsible for luring soldiers into the woods, and he’d been there the night I nearly lost my life.

“If we find him,” I continue, “we might find the Thief.”

Temper swings her legs off the table. “Girl, one problem with that little plan of yours: we don’t know where he is either. I mean, it ain’t like he’s standing outside, flashing his titties and begging us to capture him.”

I give my friend a look. “I guess it’s too bad we aren’t PI’s who specialize in finding people.”

Temper harrumphs.

Des stands, leaning heavily against the table. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a slight nod. “We should check Galleghar’s crypt at the very least.

“Cherub,” Des says, his silver gaze raking me over, “care to pay my father’s tomb a visit?”

So I can kick that fucker’s corpse in the balls?

“Love to.”

We don’t visit the tomb right away.

Instead, the two of us return to the King of the Night’s chambers.

I can feel the weight of this long evening settling on my shoulders.

Silently, Des comes up behind me and begins to unfasten my battle leathers.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, loosening buckles and untying straps. “For this war, for putting you in the Thief’s crosshairs, for making you endure last night.”

“None of that is your fault,” I say over my shoulder, my words quiet.

“Maybe …” he muses.

His quick wit is gone for the moment, and I get a taste of another side of Des, one that feels old and wise and battle-weary. He pulls my leathers off my shoulder and places a kiss there.

Despite the solemn circumstances, goosebumps break out along my skin. He removes my top, and his hands skim down my arms.

The Bargainer’s hands slip farther down my body, and his magic peels away the last of my clothes, and the last of his.

“Let me take care of you, cherub,” he says from behind me.

For the life of me, I don’t honestly know what he means by that. He’s taken care of me every single day he’s been in my life. But I nod anyway because being taken care of sounds really, really nice right now.

Without another word, the Bargainer scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom.

The tub is already filled to the rim with water. Scattered around it are lamps that flicker with starbursts of light. A balmy night breeze flutters in through the arched windows.

Des walks the two of us into the tub, sitting us down in the warm bathwater. I swallow as the liquid turns pink. All the while the King of Night holds me close, cupping my head against his chest.

I don’t know why, but this is the moment all my courage and bravado falls away. So many people died tonight, all of them victims in one way or another. Some of them I killed myself. The proof of it is discoloring the bathwater.

The Night King must sense my shifting mood because he says, “It’s alright, Callie. It’s alright. We’re just going to rinse off the blood and dirt.”

I close my eyes and my shoulders begin to shake and it’s stupid, stupid, stupid, but I begin to cry against him.

I feel sixteen all over again. Sixteen and broken and desperate for the Bargainer to fix me, even though that was never his job to begin with. But he did fix me; he picked up each broken piece of me and put me back together and he loved my cracks in a way that only he could.

And then seven years passed and I grew up. I believed that all those fragile parts of me were gone, but here we are again, me with blood on my hands and thoughts of dead fae and that fucking Thief all filling my head.

I lean my forehead against Des’s chest and silently cry against him. He doesn’t need a confession from me to know what’s wormed its way under my skin. He cradles the back of my head and holds me to him. I sit there in his arms, keeping my eyes closed so that I can’t see the discolored water. Des begins to hum.

I pause for just a moment, recognizing the melody. He used to sing the same song under his breath back in my dorm room. At the sound, my sobs quiet. Because Des is here, comforting me as he used to, and even as I mourn the evening’s horrors, I savor this.

He holds me a little longer, and then he grabs a washcloth and begins to scrub my skin, raking the cloth up and down my back, then moving to my arms. He carefully runs it down my wrist and over each finger of mine, all the while humming that same song.

I take in a shuddering breath and watch his ministrations.

“You don’t have to clean—”

“Cherub.” With one word he stops my weak protest in its tracks.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as my breath evens, the only sound the slight splash of water as Des scours my body.

“This is …” Des begins, then starts again. “In my imaginings, we did this. I scrubbed the world’s filth off of you, until you were just you in my arms.”

“Stop,” I say, my voice breaking. I had almost put myself back together, but Des’s words are going to pull me apart again.

The washcloth gets to my face, and he tilts my chin up. “You saved my people tonight, Callie. You saved them. Who knows how many more would have died if you hadn’t been there.”

I stare into his moonlit eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful or fearsome than you beguiling those fae. You are a force of nature.”

I swallow. “You’re no longer immune to it.”

I’d seen firsthand what my glamour could now do to Des.

“I’m delightfully terrified of the prospect. Our sex life has just gotten ten times kinkier.”

He has no idea.

I glance at the water. I don’t know what magic the Bargainer is dealing out, but the bath’s water is now crystal clear. Whatever blood once sullied it is no longer visible.

Des sets the washcloth aside and brushes his thumb along my lower lip. “Give me a wish,” he says, out of the blue.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I want one.”

Demanding fairy.

I raise my eyebrows. “And what’s the cost?” I ask.

He taps my nose. “So jaded. I wish you had a little more faith in me.”

My eyebrows hike up farther. “So you’re giving me a free wish?”

“Hmm. Perhaps free is not the right word.”

That’s what I thought.

He plays with my hair. “But you’ll like the repayment. That, I promise.”

I don’t doubt it.

“Fine. I want coffee.”

“Out of all the wishes in the world, that’s the one you go for?” Des looks distinctly unimpressed.

I really want a cup o’ Joe, alright? So sue me. My brief taste of Temper’s wasn’t enough.

I tilt my head back and forth, weighing his words. “You’re right, on second thought, maybe I should wish for another boyfriend—”

A cup manifests out of the ether and into Des’s hand. “Alright baby siren,” he says, cutting me off. “I see how you’re going to play your hand.” He presses the mug into one of my palms.

I grin at him, the last of my earlier sadness vanishing with the action.

“Going to have to remind you later of why there will only ever be me …” he murmurs.

My grin widens, and the Bargainer leans in and steals a quick kiss, the action causing some of the blessed coffee in my mug to slosh into the water. As always, Des tastes like sin and wicked thoughts, and I’m almost more interested in drinking him up than I am the coffee.

Almost.

Once the kiss ends, I lean back against the rim of the tub and gather my knees to my chest.

“What was that song?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.

Des is appraising me like he wants to eat me for lunch. “What song?”

“The one you were humming just now.”

Recognition sparks in his eyes. “‘For my Lost Love, I Dream of Thee’.”

I set my mug next to one of the glowing lanterns. “I like it,” I admit.

He gives me a soft smile. “I’m glad you do. My mother used to sing it to me when I was little.”

That confession—freely given, I note—sends a pang through me. There’s a soft spot in Des’s heart that belongs to his mom and his mom alone, and for the hundredth time, I wish I could’ve met her.

“What’s the song about?” I ask.

The Bargainer’s expression turns a little melancholic. “A man loses the love of his life, and he yearns for night because in dreams they’re reunited,” he says.

The two of us are quiet for a moment.

“Well, that’s a fucking bummer,” I finally say.

That’s the song he’s been reassuring me with this whole time? That’s like chasing away a nightmare by telling someone a ghost story.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Des’s laughter fills the chamber. “Yeah, cherub, it really is.”