A Strange Hymn by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 45

Solstice expectations: everyone shall set aside their quarrels for this week, hold hands, and sing kumbaya.

Solstice reality: everyone shall come within an inch of death at least once.

Fairies everywhere in the room begin to panic as darkness cloaks our surroundings.

I feel the breath of a hundred different types of magic trying to illuminate the room only to be snuffed out by Des’s power. Along the walls, I hear the sound of plants rustling. It takes several seconds for me to realize that they’re withering, dying.

“Before there were plants, before there were animals, before there was even light, there was darkness,” Des says, his voice silky smooth. “From that darkness, all of our deepest desires and most secret fears were born. And I know all of yours. Perhaps I should share them …”

I swear I hear Mara suck in a breath.

“Or perhaps I should simply hurt you where you stand.”

“The truce ...” she says.

“Yes,” Des replies, “that damnable truce, the same one you managed to find your way around when it came to my mate. You think that will save anyone now? Surely you realize I can outmaneuver that promise just as well as you can.”

The plants are still withering around us; I can hear their unearthly death rattles.

She doesn’t say anything, but the smell of rotting flowers is thick in the air.

“Or maybe I’ll do it all. Spill your secrets then break your pretty throne. Shall I start with how you hate your mate’s touch?”

Air hisses through Mara’s teeth, but she doesn’t deny the accusation.

“I know you desire my touch—and my mate’s.”

That last little bit of Des’s confession is met with whispers in the dark. I guess wanting a human woman to fondle your lady parts is extra scandalous.

“There are other things I’ve learned. Should I keep going?” 

She won’t say no. I know it, Des knows it, and she must know it as well. There’s both her pride and appearances to keep up. She can’t just bend to a visiting fae’s will. But I also know that Des is unearthing truths she’d rather leave buried.

As it turns out, she doesn’t have to worry about answering the Bargainer.

From the darkness comes light. It’s dim at first, but with each passing second, it gets brighter and brighter, shaping itself into a man—into Janus.

His whole body radiates light, casting the room into a dim golden glow. He makes his way to our group, his guards flanking him—Aetherial one of them. He gestures for his soldiers to fall back before coming to our sides.

“My friends,” he says, grasping both Des and Mara on the shoulders, “why don’t we find a quiet place to rip each other’s throats out?”

Half of me thinks that Janus’s presence is only going to agitate Des more, but my mate looks around the room, seeming to awaken from whatever state he’s in. Ever so slowly, the darkness recedes, and Des rubs his mouth, reluctantly nodding.

The fairies in the ballroom blink as light returns, their gazes quickly finding us. And then the whispers begin. They stare at Des with more than a little fear.

Now it’s not just the Fauna fae that distrust him; it’s everyone here.

The Bargainer’s silver eyes find mine. “Enjoy yourself, love. I’ll be gone only a minute.”

He signals to some of his soldiers, who come to flank my sides, and then, with a parting kiss, slips away with the other rulers.

I watch the four of them retreat, their stifling power leaving with them.

After they leave, Aetherial steps up to me, putting all my guards on edge. I wave them down.

“Your mate’s really going through the bender with the whole bonding process,” she says, looking at the door they exited through.

I glance over at her. Is that what’s going on? He’d made mention of his instincts getting the better of him, but the Desmond I know always was the epitome of control.

“I hear that Night rulers get it particularly bad,” she continues. “Something about their ancestral blood apparently makes them hyper aggressive.”

Des had mentioned that he’d descended either from dragons or demons. I suppose either creature could cause the mood shifts.

Her gaze slides to me. “I’ve also heard rumor that a white-haired man has been snatching soldiers from Solstice festivities.”

I groan. “Not you too.”

“So you don’t believe it?”

“That my soulmate is taking soldiers?” I say. “No, I don’t.”

And I mean it. Wicked though Des is, he’s no monster, not like the Thief of Souls is.

I step closer to Aetherial. “The truth is that since I laid eyes on your king, I’ve assumed he’s the one involved with the disappearances.”

Aetherial’s head snaps to me. “Seriously? Why?”

I frown. “When I was delivered to Karnon, I saw the man who captured me—it was your king.”

“Impossible,” she says.

“Why do you think Des attacked your king the night you all arrived?”

Aetherial searches my face. “You’re telling the truth,” she murmurs. She shakes her head. “But it’s impossible. I’ve seen my king’s truth too. He’s had nothing to do with these disappearances.”

I lift a shoulder, my attention moving to where we last saw the fae rulers.

We are all turning on each other—this person to point the finger at that person, that person to point the finger at yet another individual. The truth of the matter is that we are all being played by the Thief of Souls, whoever they might be.

The Thief of Souls …

I rotate to Aetherial. “You wouldn’t happen to know the last known location of Day soldiers who’ve gone missing during Solstice, would you?”

She shakes her head. “They disappeared all over the palace grounds—mostly just outside the royal gardens.”

Mostly just outside the royal gardens.

The reports I’ve been given corroborate this; they mentioned the men vanishing on the outskirts of the palace grounds.

The only thing beyond the gardens is the queen’s sacred oak forest, which ringed the entirety of the property. I’ve been in that oak forest a time or two, but more than that, I’ve dreamed of the place, over and over again.

What had the Bargainer told me weeks and weeks ago?

In the Otherworld, dreams are never just dreams. They’re another sort of reality.

My skin buzzes, as if with electricity. It’s the sensation I got as a PI whenever I felt particularly close to solving a case.

“I have to go,” I say.

Aetherial gives me a quizzical look. “Didn’t you just get here?”

I wave the question off. “I’ll be right back.”

The Thief of Souls has been hunting during Solstice, and now I know just where to find him.