A Strange Hymn by Laura Thalassa
Chapter 3
I crack my knuckles nervously as the Bargainer leads me down the halls of his palace, his hand on my lower back. Above us, the ceilings arch overhead, fitted with painted tiles, and starbursts of light sparkle from the sconces that line the walls.
The simple bronze circlet Des wears as a crown currently adorns his head, and his war bands are now visible on his upper arm, the three cuffs proof of his valor in war. Like me, he wears training leathers, and I try not to stare too hard at just how good he looks in them.
Instead, I glance over my shoulder at Des’s wings. He hasn’t put them away all day. In fact, ever since he retrieved me from Karnon’s throne room, they’ve almost constantly been present. Over a week ago Temper told me that male fairies like to display their wings around their mates.
He catches me staring at them, and his eyes shine.
Just that look is triggering all sorts of inappropriate responses, and I have to remind myself that this guy forced my cowardly heart to face not one, but two unpleasant challenges today—training, and now this.
Ahead of us, Malaki and a team of royal aides and black-clad guards stand in front of an innocuous door, clearly waiting for us.
“What’s the situation?” Des asks when we make it over to the group.
“The last of the Fauna leaders sent a messenger,” one of the aides says. “He’s refusing to give his message to anyone but you.”
Just hearing a mention of the Fauna fae has my blood running cold. I know it’s unfair to judge an entire group of fae based on their twisted leader’s actions, but the truth is, I didn’t just suffer at the hands of Karnon. Every Fauna fae who dragged me to and from their king, every one of them that walked by my cell and didn’t stop to help, every one of them that aided the madman—they are all to blame.
“Very well,” the Bargainer says next to me, his voice just as silky as it ever is, “let’s meet the messenger.”
I begin to back up because I’m really not ready to face a Fauna fae right now, but Des’s firm hand on my back holds me in place.
One of the fairies slips through the door, and I hear him announce Des, and then, much to my growing horror, I hear my name announced as well.
I’m not sure Des means to, but his wings flare out, curving around me for several seconds before they fold back up.
I feel more than a little ill as the two of us file into the throne room.
If I wasn’t so distracted by my emotions I could properly feel awed by the room itself. The ceiling that arches above us is enchanted to look like the night sky. The chamber is lit by two grand, bronze chandeliers and several wall sconces, little starbursts of light glowing from each of them. The pale stone walls are intricately carved, and tiny bits of colorful tile cover most of them, making the room look like one grand mosaic.
Desmond’s throne room is currently filled with dozens and dozens of fairies that line the walls or peer down from a balcony on the upper level. As soon as they see us, they begin clapping, the sound setting me further on edge. My wings hike up with my nerves, and I have to breathe deeply to calm myself.
Des’s throne is made of hammered bronze and fitted with cushions of deep blue velvet. Next to it, someone’s brought out a smaller seat made of the same materials.
My seat, I realize with a start.
Mechanically, I take it, my wings arching over the back of it.
This room is a far cry from the Fauna King’s throne room, and yet staring down the long expanse of it still brings back unwanted memories. Not to mention that this one is filled with an audience.
Only once Des and I are settled does the applause cease. In the silence that follows, one of the fairies in attendance steps in front of the throne, bowing deeply.
“My king, a Fauna messenger is here to see you.” The fairy essentially repeats what we’ve already heard.
“Bring them in,” Des says, his voice booming.
I slide a glance over to my mate. Back in high school, I used to imagine all the lives he must’ve lived when he wasn’t around me, but I never pictured this. Even after I knew he was a king, it was just too hard to envision the wily Bargainer as some benevolent ruler. But right now he wears the role like a second skin.
A strange combination of awe and fear washes through me. Awe that for the first time in eight long years, I’m being let into Des’s world. He’s showing me things about himself that I’ve begged for him to share in the past.
But then, there’s the fear that accompanies the wonder. The one truly concrete thing I know about my mate is that he’s a man made of secrets. And perhaps for the first time, I’m having a certain amount of trepidation when it comes to what exactly those secrets are.
At the far end of the room, the arched double doors open, dragging my attention away from Des. A man with a lion’s tail and mane is escorted into the room.
Just seeing the Fauna fae has me squeezing my armrests. One of my jailers had looked similar, and it’s dragging my mind back to that cavernous prison with all its horrors.
I feel a warm hand take my own. When I glance over at the Bargainer, he’s staring down our guest, his face set into uncompromising angles, even as he gives my hand a squeeze. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look.
I relax just the slightest. Whatever happens here, Des won’t let that Fauna fae touch me. I can feel the fierceness of the Bargainer’s devotion even across the space that divides us.
The Fauna fairy strides down the aisle carrying a large leather bag. He doesn’t look intimidated by Des. If anything, he seems like he’s all pent-up aggression, his tail swishing back and forth agitatedly.
“The Fauna Kingdom has a message for the King of Night,” he announces. Even his voice is aggressive.
I would’ve thought this would frighten me. Everything else about this moment has struck fear into my heart. But seeing this Fauna fae walk towards Des—towards me—full of anger rather than repentance …
My nails begin to curve back into claws.
I can feel my bloodlust rising, the siren whispering all sorts of black thoughts at the back of my mind.
Remember what his kind did to us. To those women.
He deserves to die.
One quick slice across his throat would be enough …
I push those thoughts far, far away.
The Fauna fae reaches the end of the aisle, several feet away from the dais Des and I sit at. In one smooth motion he throws the bag he carries on the ground in front of him. It lands with a dull, wet thump, and four bloody, severed heads roll out.
I nearly fall off my seat. “Holy shit!” My wings flare out, accidently bowling over a soldier standing too close.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this world?
Around me, Des’s subjects gasp, their eyes riveted to the sight of all those decapitated heads.
And the dead … the dead look as though they’re still screaming, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping open.
The gasps turn into cries for vengeance, and soldiers are reaching for their weapons. I’m acutely aware that this room is one hot minute away from taking this Fauna dude out.
The only one not reacting is Des, and that should worry me deeply. He looks almost bored as he stares down at the severed heads.
Des holds up his hand, and the room falls to silence. He sits back against his throne, his gaze moving to the Fauna fae who looks on challengingly.
“Who are they?” he asks, his voicing echoing throughout the room.
“The last of the Night Kingdom’s diplomats staying in our territory,” the lion-tailed messenger responds. “Our people demand justice for the murder of our king, the destruction of our palace, and the death of all the Fauna fae trapped inside the castle when you destroyed it.”
The Bargainer smiles at that.
Holy crap, if I were that messenger I would’ve totally just wet myself.
“Refuse us, and the Fauna fae still left will not rest until every last Night fae in our realm has been dealt with,” the messenger says.
The crowd hisses its displeasure, and something ripples through the room, something darker and more insidious than the night.
“What sort of justice do you demand?” Des asks, leaning forward and placing his chin on his fist.
“We demand that the Night Kingdom pay for the construction of a new palace and that the current king abdicate his throne.”
Alright, this guy has some serious cojones, walking into this place and asserting to the Night King’s face that he step down from his position.
Surely this guy knows his demands won’t be taken seriously?
Des stands, and you can hear a pin drop, the room is so quiet. He steps down the stairs, his heavy boots echoing throughout the hall.
Had I thought he seemed kingly a moment ago?
I was sorely mistaken.
With his white hair brushed back from his face, his black battle leathers curving around his defined muscles, and his talon-tipped wings neatly tucked at his back, he looks like some dark prince of hell.
His ominous footfalls only stop once he stands right in the middle of the carnage. He toes a bloody head.
For several seconds, as the room waits with baited breath, all we hear is the slick sound of dead flesh as the severed head rolls under the Bargainer’s boot.
“You pose a striking offer—” Des finally says, still staring down at the remains of his diplomats.
The messenger looks resolute, only now his tail has stopped flicking back and forth. I can’t imagine what is going on in his head.
“—but I’m going to have to decline.”
Des’s voice is like a swallow of Johnny Walker after a long day. So smooth you barely feel the burn of it.
The Fauna fae squares his jaw. “Then expect—”
“No.” Power ripples out of Des. Instantly, it brings the messenger to his knees.
“You come here and lay the severed heads of my diplomats at my feet,” Des says. His hair ripples a little with the force of his words. “Then you demand justice for a mad king who kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned soldiers—a man who kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned my mate.”
Suddenly, all eyes are on me. My skin burns at the attention.
“Finally,” Des continues staring down at the fairy, “you threaten to kill my people should I not meet your demands.”
The messenger tries to talk, but Des’s magic keeps his lips sealed.
The Bargainer begins to circle the Fauna fae. “Do you even know my subjects? I rule over monsters of your wildest imaginings, creatures made of fairies’ deepest fears. And I have their respect.” Des pauses at the man’s back, bending down to whisper into his ear. “Do you know how I’ve gained their respect?”
The messenger glances over his shoulder at the Bargainer, his lips still sealed.
My heart begins to beat faster and faster. Something bad is about to happen.
“I let them feast on my enemies.”
The messenger looks rattled, but he’s not panicking.
Des straightens. “Bring in the bog.”
His order is met with fearful whispers. Fairies in the audience shift nervously.
A minute later a side door opens to the throne room.
At first, nothing happens. Then, from the doorway, a shadow slithers over the wall. The fairies nearest it scream and scatter. It seems to expand, growing larger and larger, the shape of it hulking and horned.
Heaven help me, from the shape of it alone, it looks like Karnon’s mutant cousin.
I keep waiting to see the monster that accompanies it when I realize, that this is it. It’s a shadow, nothing more. Only, the longer I stare at it, the more terrible it seems. It might not have any sort of physical presence, but on some deep, primordial level, it terrifies me.
It slides down the wall, losing its shape as it pools against the floor. The audience nearest it are practically trampling each other to get away from it, but it pays them no heed. Instead it creeps towards the messenger.
The Fauna fae struggles to rise to his feet as the bog comes closer, but whatever magical hold Desmond has over him, it pins him in place.
Now the messenger is beginning to show the first signs of panic. My guess is that whatever this bog is, its reputation precedes it.
Des steps away from the fairy.
“Wait, wait—” The messenger says as the creature nears him. “Don’t go.”
This makes Des’s lips quirk, though his eyes are as hard as ever.
Cruel Des. Dark Des. I’m catching an elusive glimpse of the beast behind the man.
The Fauna fae is still trying to move, but it’s like his lower legs are glued to the floor. “I’ll make a deal,” he says, his eyes pinned to the shadowy creature heading his way.
I’ll make a deal.
Des’s shoulders stiffen at the temptation, but he ignores the fairy.
The creature is only mere feet away.
“Please, anything!”
For a fairy who had enough courage to threaten a fae king in his own court, he sure is quick to fall apart. I don’t know what he was expecting would happen. Des doesn’t bend to other people’s wills. He’s the force that contorts and crushes them. I’ve seen it happen time and time again with his clients.
The Bargainer heads back for his throne, his face steely. His eyes find mine, and they flicker as they take me in. That might be the closest he comes to regret in this moment. And then the look is gone, and he’s made of stone once more.
There’s a darkness in this man, and I’ve yet to plumb its depths.
The shadow closes the last of the distance to the Fauna fairy, moving over his feet. The messenger’s ankles begin to disappear, then his calves.
That’s about when the screaming starts.
Des mounts the steps to his throne and takes a seat next to me, all while the bog continues to swallow the fairy.
I dig my fingernails into my seat as I hear the man’s cries. I have every reason to enjoy the justice of this moment, but now that the Fauna fae looks less like a villain and more like a victim, I find I can’t.
I don’t want to sit here and watch this. It’s too inhuman, too fae, too wicked. All at once it becomes too much.
I get up and, amongst the screams and the stares, I leave the room.
No one stops me.
