A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer Book 2) by Laura Thalassa
“Why would she do that?” I ask.
“Leverage,” Des responds. “It’s quite easily to control people once you understand them.”
It’s dizzying, the layers of schemes that fairies are pursuing at any given moment. Just when I think I might understand such creatures, I hear something like this. I could’ve even keep such intrigue straight in my mind.
“Now,” Des says, “I believe it’s my turn.”
Ah, yes, my turn to answer a question.
“What were you talking about with the Green Man earlier this evening?” he asks.
I feel my face pale.
He noticed that conversation?
The man is way too perceptive.
My throat works. I really don’t want to have this talk.
The longer I hesitate, the stronger the pull I feel from his magic. It wraps around my windpipe, forcing me to speak.
“We’ve been having unprotected sex,” I finally say.
The magic doesn’t release me.
Ugh.
Des waits for me to finish.
I take a deep breath. “I could be pregnant,” I whisper.
His eyes widen at my confession.
I rub my neck and watch him warily as his magic dissipates.
He studies me, and for the life of me I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Finally, he says, “What is this about, cherub?”
Huh?
“It’s about that, Des. Having a baby.” Just saying it is making it that much more real. I need a pregnancy test, stat.
“I thought you wanted to have my child?” Des says in his dangerous voice.
I do want to have his child; this isn’t a matter of “if,” it’s a matter of “when.”
“This whole thing is just moving too fast,” I say.
“Moving too fast?”
Those are clearly the wrong three words to say. I see it in his eyes. That foreign flicker of something alien, something fae.
“Haven’t you had enough moving slow?” His hand presses gently against my stomach, cradling it.
I stare at him, well aware that I’m facing down fae Des, dark Des, Des who craves things I can’t understand.
What was it Phaedron had mentioned?
No fairy would let his mate get away just because she put up a little protest.
Hasn’t that been the theme of the evening? The possibility that I want things that will take me away from Des rather than bring me closer to him?
“Perhaps I want you to have my child,” he says, moving his hand from my stomach to my bracelet. “Perhaps I want us to begin right now …”
I swallow, my mouth dry.
All at once, he releases my wrist and backs away, running his hands through his hair. That dangerous spark extinguishes from his eyes.
Des sits down heavily on a nearby chair, and now that edgy Des has retreated I feel my own knees weaken with—what? Relief? Disappointment? Des’s feral side is nearly as appealing as it is frightening. And that might make me sick, but screw it, I’ve known I was twisted for a long time.
“Forgive me,” he says into his hands. “This bond comes with its own set of barbaric instincts.”
I smooth down my dress, stepping away from the wall.
“I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He rubs his mouth and chin. “It’s just … it’s particularly difficult for women to conceive fae children. We don’t see them as burdens. I wouldn’t see it as a burden.”
I feel hot and cold and confused, like someone’s pulled the rug out from under me.
“And I’d hoped,” he continues, “that you wouldn’t see it that way either.”
“Is that part of the reason you won’t give me the lilac wine?” I ask.
I assume my fertility would decrease the moment I drank the wine, if it in fact made me more like other fae women.
He laughs. “Gods, no. I already stated my reasons for not giving you the wine. And if I was determined to get you pregnant, cherub, I don’t think a little thing like immortality would get in the way.”
The way he’s looking at me has my core heating up.
I let out a breath. “But you do want children?” I ask.
Those shocking, silver eyes meet mine. They remind me of light and darkness and everything in between.
“With you?” he says. “Of course.”
I don’t know why that gets to me, why what he says and how he says it tightens my throat, but it does.
Sometimes I forget that I really do get to have this life, with all its horror and beauty. With all its messy entanglements. I can reach out and take it whenever I want. More than that, Des wants me to reach out and take it.
I head towards Des as I face down all my raw, raging emotions.
“I don’t think you’re pregnant,” he says, tilting his head up from his seat as I approach him, “though if you are, we’ll deal with that cherub, just like everything else—”
I take his face in my hands and silence him with a kiss.
This love between us is bigger than him, bigger than me.
“From flame to ashes, dawn to dusk, for the rest of our lives, be mine always, Desmond Flynn,” I whisper against his lips, reciting the same words that first took him away from me.
They still hold the same wonderful, fearful power they did when I first spoke them, even after paying my tithe for them.
Des draws me closer, pulls me in tighter.
I keep forgetting that beyond his cockiness and power, there’s a part of him that’s vulnerable, unsure. I said those words to him seven years ago, but seven years is a long time to go without hearing them—an eternity for two soulmates.
I feel him shudder against me as he responds, “Till darkness dies.”
Chapter 35
It’s late morning when Des and I enter Mara’s sitting room. So far today, I’ve managed to eat breakfast … then nearly upchuck said breakfast while training with Des.
Oh, the joys of becoming a weapon of mass destruction.
Mara is already reclining on a couch, waiting for us. She looks impossibly regal with her lilac dress draped around her, revealing just the right amount of leg from one of its slits.
“Ah, there you are,” she says, raising her hands in greeting, like yesterday never happened.
I’m still sweaty from the workout, innocuously picking at the training leathers that are now sealing themselves to my skin. Des for his part looks far more badass, his gear molding to his body like a lover.
We were right in the middle of a scrimmage that I swear was going my way when Mara’s soldiers interrupted us, telling us that the Queen of Flora requested my presence.
Des sort of took it upon himself to join me despite not receiving an invitation himself. And now here we are. Completely out of place in this dainty little sitting room.
Around Mara, several servants move about. I catch sight of the red, upraised skin on their wrists.
Humans. Slaves.
Mara’s eyes follow mine, and her expression seems to grow excited when she realizes what I’m looking at. In her world, regardless of titles and relationships, at the end of the day, I am one of them. A shadow, a servant, an inferior race of beings.
Mara’s attention slides to Des, and she flashes him a sly smile. “Didn’t trust me alone with your mate?”
“The last time my mate was alone with a ruler, she nearly died. It’s nothing personal.”
Mara clicks her tongue. “So very protective.” Her eyes slide to me. “But you don’t need protecting, do you?”
On earth, no.
In fact, if Des pulled something like this back home, it would royally irk me. But here, where my glamour is useless and I’m surrounded by immortals who like bloodsport even more than my siren does, I’m inclined to let Des be protective.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask instead, taking the lead and heading deeper into the room. Des follows behind me.
I sit down in the green velvet armchair adjacent to her,
“Tea?” Mara offers, gesturing to the delicate tea set in front of her on the coffee table.
I shake my head.
“Don’t mind if I help myself,” she says.
The vines that have taken over the room now slither up the coffee table, wrapping around the tea kettle and a delicate cup. They lift the porcelain containers into the air, and then ever so gently, the vines tilt the kettle, and tea begins pouring into the cup.
“Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” Mara asks, settling herself into the seat.
I can’t quite rip my eyes away from the sight of all those plants pouring a cup of tea.
Magic will never get old.
“Mhm,” I say, watching as more vines join the production, one to add some cream to the cup, another to add a cube of sugar.
“I hear that during the first night of festivities, you and the king slipped away to the forest for a bit.”
Now I tear my gaze away from the tea.
I flush as I remember being pressed to that tree, Des’s chest pinned against mine as he pistoned in and out of me.
Of course the queen knows we made love under the canopy of her forest.
“Oh, there’s no reason to be embarrassed,” she says, noticing my reddening cheeks. “We celebrate the cycle of seasons by coming together. It’s an honor to have the King of the Night and his mate sanctify the celebration by joining in. I myself disappeared into the forest several times that evening alone.”
Really, I could’ve lived without knowing that.
My eyes slide to Des.
He lounges back in his chair, one ankle thrown over his knee, his thumb rubbing his lower lip while he watches me. Judging from the heat in his eyes, he’s vividly remembering that evening as well. And unlike me, he doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by it.
One of the vines extends the cup of tea to Mara. She takes it, sipping daintily from it.
“So,” she says, “festivities aside, I’ve also heard that you are actively looking for the Thief of Souls.” Mara watches me over the rim of her teacup.
I nod. I mean, technically, Des and I are investigating this together, but when I look at him again, I get the impression that he wants me to take full credit for this.
“So you’re aware that guards from all four kingdoms have gone missing during the Solstice festivities. All men.”
Again, I nod.
“I was hoping to avoid this situation.” She takes a sip of her tea and shakes her head. “I wanted to discuss with you the testimony of the last people to see these soldiers alive. I think you’ll find it most interesting.”
Deliberately, she leans over and picks up a silver stirring spoon from the tea tray, then dips it into her cup. “You see, many of them say they last saw their comrades with a single individual. The same individual.”
I grip the edges of the armrest, already dreading, already knowing, what she’s going to say.
“Who?” I ask anyway.
“Your mate, Desmond Flynn.”
Chapter 36
Des continues to languidly sit in the chair across from me. One eyebrow arches up. “You thought to tell my mate about this alone?”
Nothing about this situation makes any sense. Not the testimony, which I can barely wrap my mind around, and not Des’s unruffled reaction to it.
Mara ignores him. “Can you account for your mate’s whereabouts over the last several evenings?”
Wait, seriously? She wants me to give an alibi for Des?
My eyes are moving between Mara and Des—Mara, who looks like a shark who’s scented blood, and Des, who’s not giving away anything.
“Yes,” I say, my voice unfaltering. “He’s been with me. You’re looking at the wrong man. Janus was the one that took—”
“Desmond was with you the entire night?” Mara probes, talking over me.
My siren stirs at my agitation, wanting out. If I were back on earth, I’d repress her, but here in the Otherworld, where my magic is mostly useless, I don’t have to worry about my power getting out of hand. So I let her out.
My skin begins to shimmer. “Do you really think I would let the King of the Night out of my bed once he was in it?” I say, glamour riding my voice.
I am not one to be interrogated.
Across from me Mara smiles a little, her eyes shrewd.
Glass shatters, interrupting the moment.
A pretty young servant stares at me, her eyes wide, a shattered vase at her feet. She steps closer, glass crunching beneath the soles of her shoes.
Mara rolls her eyes. “Insolent thing,” she says under her breath, “clean that up now,” she orders.
But the servant doesn’t clean up the vase. She’s not listening to the Flora Queen at all. Her eyes are trained on me, completely under my spell.
My dark, seductive power laps beneath my skin.
Finally, someone to bend to my will.
Mara sets down her cup of tea, the vines around her beginning to slither and snap in agitation.
“Do you want a lashing, woman?” she says, her voice turning shrill.
I smile as the servant comes closer, enjoying the power, the control.
“Congratulations, my queen,” Des says. “You’re one of the first fairies to see what my mate can do to humans,” Des says.
Mara glances away from the servant to cast a baffled look at the Bargainer. She then reappraises me, something like reluctant approval in her eyes. Meanwhile, her servant is still heading towards me, her glassy gaze fixed on my face.
I turn to face the human woman. “Clean up the vase you broke, and then return to your normal duties,” I say.
Immediately, the servant turns around, returning to the broken glass and beginning to pick the largest pieces of it up.
“Amazing,” Mara breathes.
I frown as I watch the servant girl, catching a glimpse of the reddened skin near her wrist where she was branded.
Mara did that to her. Marked her.
“How much easier it would be to control them if we had someone like her,” Mara muses. “Are there more of her kind?” she asks Des.
My fingers curve into the arms of my chair.
Human. Slave. Victim. That’s what I once was, what this servant is. And the fairy queen at my side is her captor, her tormentor. She’s the one who deserves my wrath.
I turn to Mara, feeling wild. I stand, the thrill of power coursing through me. Here is an evil to vanquish, a queen to conquer, a soul to break and a body to bleed.
In my periphery I can just make out Des tensing. My unshakeable king is actually on edge for once. How delightful.
My body rolls as I move over to Mara. Slowly, I lower myself onto her lap.
“Do you mind?” I ask as I do so. I don’t care what her answer is.
Her mouth curves into a smile. “You have a mate, enchantress,” she says.
“He’s not protesting.” Yet.
She raises her eyebrows. “Then by all means.”
I can see desire stoking in her eyes. Fairies, I’m coming to find, are a bit more sexually fluid than humans.
I place my hands on either side of her head, boxing her in. I lean in close. “Why do you keep them?” My gaze travels to her neck. Her delicate neck. Such a fragile part of her body. I cannot control this woman, but I can seduce her. I can hurt her.
My nails sharpen, pricking the fabric of her couch. She has no idea that her words will determine what I do next.
“Who?” she asks, her wicked lips forming a perfect “O”.
“Slaves,” I say. “You mark them and keep them. Why?”
A heavy hand snakes under my arm. “That’s enough fun, love,” Des says, hoisting me out of Mara’s lap.
I nearly fight him. I can practically feel her blood between my fingers.
Quieter, he whispers, “Save your vendettas, cherub.”
Rather than setting me back in my seat, Des settles us both on his, pullin
Mara’s low-lidded eyes watch us. “Have you heard the story of my sister?” she asks, staring at me contemplatively.
She doesn’t wait for me to respond.
“Thalia Verdana,” she says, “the most powerful Flora heir to be born within this millennia. No great beauty, but what is beauty to power?” Mara’s eyes go distant. “Of course, to Thalia, beauty was everything. She coveted what she didn’t have.”
The Flora Queen’s eyes drift over me and Des. “Of course, one also knows you don’t need beauty if you’ve found love instead—and she found it in a traveling minstrel of all things. At least, that’s what we assumed he was.”
Mara stirs her cup of tea idly. “Our parents were scandalized by the match, but that didn’t stop Thalia from seeing him.
“Did you know fairies can bargain away their power?” Mara says to me. “They can share it, they can gift it, but they cannot bequeath it—death severs all deals.”
She takes in my glowing skin. “He ended up being an enchanter—a fairy who could ensorcell other fairies with a wish and a kiss. Thalia fell under his spell …
She clears her throat. “My parents killed him before he could destroy our kingdom. Of course, by then Thalia was too far gone. She followed him to the Kingdom of Death.
“That’s how I became heir to this kingdom.”
Mara gives us a tight smile. “It has been a long time since I’ve met an enchanter—and never a human one. I find that despite all my reservations, you hold me captivated …” Her eyes flicker with desire as she takes me in.
“Yes, Callie does have that effect on people,” Des says, his voice a touch possessive. “Now what were we talking about?” Des looks first to me, then to Mara. He snaps his fingers. “Ah, yes, now I remember. Mara, you were insinuating that I was behind the recent disappearances.”
She rearranges herself in her seat. “When several witnesses all see the same thing, one has to wonder …”
This is the second time in two days another ruler has cast doubt on Des’s innocence.
I want to lash out again.
“It’s not him,” I growl. The sound that comes out of my mouth is both harsh and melodic. “Janus took me. Either you must cast suspicion on both of these kings or on neither of them.”