A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer Book 2)

I find I want to throttle every last one of them—even those that weren’t closed up in Mara’s throne room with me. How can anybody be okay with what’s happening to humans here?

  Meanwhile, the waiters keep finding reasons to come by my table, some to whisper a quiet thanks, others to discreetly drop off an extra pastry here and another warm drink there.

  “Bitch, you’re missing out on all the juiciest gossip,” Temper says, pulling me back into the conversation. It’s gossip she’s undoubtedly coerced from the humans here.

  “Not if you tell me.” I kick my heels up on the table, the action earning me more whispers.

  Temper leans forward. “The fairy who raped your human woman yesterday?”

  The food in my mouth turns tasteless. I force myself to swallow. “What about him?”

  “He disappeared sometime during the night. Apparently the only thing left of him was a finger, though some people say it wasn’t a finger at all—that it was his junk.”

  I grimace. “Ugh, Temper, couldn’t you have waited for me to finish breakfast?”

  Last thing I want to think about was a sexual predator’s severed man bits.

  “That’s not all.”

  I raise my eyebrows, picking up my cup of tea and taking a swallow.

  “Apparently the queen’s harem have gone missing—supposedly they were taken right out of the queen’s bed, though no one saw it at all.”

  I nearly choke on the tea.

  One rapist and the queen’s entire harem all go missing on the same night?

  There’s only one person with both the motive and power to do such a thing, and he wasn’t in my bed this morning when I woke up.

  Temper steals a slice of bacon from my plate. “People are saying Des did it.”

  Just as they blamed him for the soldiers’ disappearances. Only now … now I’m not sure where to begin and end defending him.

  “Where is he anyway?” Temper asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  She sits back in her seat, a smug little grin on her face. “That cheeky bastard did it, didn’t he?” she says. “I think I like him.”

  I feel Des’s magic lasso around me, tugging me and my seat backwards.

  Speaking of cheeky bastards …

  “Shit,” I curse under my breath, grabbing the edges of the table as my crossed ankles slide off of it. The chair I’m sitting in begins to slide away from the table in jerky fits and starts.

  Temper pauses. “What is it?”

  My blood quickens. “Des is back.”

  Chapter 43

  It’s not just that Des is back, it’s that he wants me to train yet again, hence the magical leash that’s all but dragging me out to one of the queen’s gardens. It’s only once I arrive that the Bargainer’s magic dissipates.

  I catch sight of the man himself leaning against a tree. In front of him, he holds the pommel of a sword like one would a cane, his outfit today one hundred percent human, from his KISS T-shirt to his leather pants and black, steel-toed boots.

  “Morning, cherub,” he says, stepping into the sunlight, looking far too chipper for his own good. He tosses me the sword.

  “Morning,” I say back cautiously, catching the weapon with ease. I’m wearing a flimsy fae dress and thin leather and lace sandals. From my attire alone, I can tell this training session will be tougher than the others.

  I watch Des as he heads to the side of the gardens and procures another sword for himself.

  “What?” he says, his back to me.

  I’ve long since stopped wondering how he can figure out my expressions when he’s not even looking at me.

  There’s no sense beating around the bush. “Are the rumors true?” I ask.

  “What rumors?” He swings the sword in his hand as he approaches me, loosening up his wrist.

  Only once he’s mere feet away does the weapon drop to his side so that he can pull me in for a quick kiss.

  I close my eyes at the rush he sends through me. He tastes like secrets and deception, my wily king.

  I pull away, my eyelids lifting slowly. “That you’re responsible for the disappearances of the queen’s harem?”

  He stares at me for a long moment, those silver eyes ever enigmatic.

  “That question will cost you,” he says softly.

  My breath leaves my lungs all at once.

  He did it. Goddamnit, he did it.

  “Sword arm up, love,” he says, pulling away from me, “fall into your battle stance.”

  I do as he asks, even though my heart’s pounding from his evasion.

  “Why?” I ask as he takes position. He and I both know I’m not referring to his instructions.

  The two of us begin to circle each other.

  “I think you know why,” he says, all but confirming that the rumors are true.

  He rushes me then, his sword lifted high.

  I spin away, my skirt trailing behind me.

  “Is that all you’re going to do, Callie? Run from me?” he asks as I move between the rose-lined pathways. He’s right on my toes. I know if he wanted to, he could appear right in front of me, but for now, he’s content to chase me like this.

  All at once, I swivel to face him, bringing my sword up to meet his.

  “Are they dead?” I ask.

  The corner of his mouth quirks. “Define dead.”

  Jesus.

  Our swords spark as I drag mine down and away from him. I spin under his shoulder, coming up for an attack from behind. The Night King turns just in time, deflecting my bow.

  “Why?” I ask again.

  “No one whips my mate.” The vehemence with which he says that takes my breath away, so much so that he almost lands his next blow. Instead I hear a rip as his blade slices through layers of flimsy fabric.

  “Defend yourself, Callie,” he growls.

  I shuffle backwards. “But … how?” I ask, referring to his previous answer. “You agreed to peace with the queen.”

  He comes at me like a force of nature.

  “And I will have it. There are many handsome men she can fill her bed with.”

  But none would be replicas of men she once had relationships with. Des hadn’t harmed her mate, but he’d taken away the men she distracted herself with.

  “How will you maintain peace? Won’t she know it was you?”

  “Cherub, have you ever considered the possibility that it wasn’t me?” he says, bringing his weapon down like an anvil.

  I sidestep the blow, swiping my sword at him. “Are you taking the soldiers?”

  He parries my attack. “What if I am?” he asks. “Will you love me less? Hate me more?”

  The answer is eerily similar to the one he gave Mara when she asked him the same question.

  I push away from him, backing up. “Damnit, Des,” I whisper-hiss, “I am not some fae queen to trick with your words. Just be honest with me.”

  The world seems to go silent, the chirping birds and rustling trees quieting.

  He comes at me, swinging his sword menacingly left and right, the blade crisscrossing his body.

  As soon as he reaches me, it’s all I can do to block and evade his barrage of attacks.

  Our blades lock again.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks.

  All that I hear is the rustle of my dress in the wind and our soft exhalations.

  Do I trust Des, the man who saved me from my father, who loved me from afar for years? The man who’s rescued me from myself and set me aflame over and over again.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  His eyes soften. “The answer to your question is no,” he says, his wolfish eyes boring into me. “Mate of my soul, I did not have anything to do with those soldiers’ disappearances.”

  I feel the truth of his words, like a hit to the center of my chest. All of Des’s confessions have a weight to them, like he’s handing over a little of himself in the process, but this one feels particularly heavy.

  “Do you be
lieve me?” he asks, our swords still locked together.

  I nod, sucking in my cheeks. “I do.”

  His body relaxes, and I sense my opening. I drop my sword, sidestepping Des, then spin, bringing my sword around with me.

  The tip of it grazes his forearm, a line of blood sprouting in its wake.

  The moment I register that I actually injured him, I drop my sword, staring at the wound in horror.

  Did he let me get him on purpose?

  Just as quickly, I answer my own question.

  No. This was unplanned.

  Des stops fighting to stare at the cut in shock.

  “You struck me. You landed a blow.” He tosses his sword aside, the battle utterly forgotten. A beat passes, and then he begins to laugh. “You did it. You finally did it.”

  He’s gone mad!

  Des sweeps me up in his arms, spinning the two of us around. “Do you know what this means?” he asks, staring up at me.

  I don’t.

  “You are finally ready.”

  Chapter 44

  This evening, the Solstice ball doesn’t exactly go as planned.

  As Des and I descend down to the ballroom, I feel the comforting weight of my two daggers, which are currently strapped to a set of inner thigh holsters and hidden under my dark, iridescent dress. Is Solstice a peaceful festival? Yes, in theory. Do I plan to use these weapons? Not unless provoked. But after yesterday’s events and Des’s encouragement, I’ve decided to come to this party armed.

  And I’m not going to lie, I feel like a bad bitch tonight, which I totally dig.

  Des and I have barely entered the subterranean ballroom when Mara falls on us, and just from one glance alone, the Queen of Flora is out for blood.

  She grabs the Bargainer’s lapels. “Where are they?” Mara growls. She shakes him like a madwoman, the floral scent of her power filling the air “Desmond Flynn, where are they?”

  “What are you talking about?” he says, his voice low.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about. I swear to the Undying Gods I will do everything in my power to break our vow of peace if you don’t tell me where my harem is.”

  The Bargainer pries her hands off of his clothing. “Pull yourself together, Mara, your subjects are watching.”

  They are in fact watching us, drawn in by the latest drama between rulers.

  Many of them, I notice, have their wings on display. Apparently, the Night King and his human mate have had some effect on Otherworld fashion, despite—or perhaps because of—our taboo relationship.

  I turn back to Des, watching him with fascination. I’m half convinced by his performance that he really has no idea where the queen’s consorts are. But of course, he’s already all but admitted to me that he’s not innocent.

  “You have been nothing but trouble since you entered my kingdom,” Mara growls, “from attacking Janus, to your human wife questioning my authority in front of my own people.”

  At this, the room begins to darken, no doubt because Des is vividly recalling just what happened when I questioned her authority.

  “Not to mention,” she continues, “that the Fauna fae want you dead, and several people think you’re behind the missing soldiers. And now my men are gone—”

  The Green Man joins us then, lovingly brushing the Flora Queen’s hair off her shoulder as he does so. She shudders at the touch, not so subtly shrugging his hand off. Her gaze flicks to him, and she gives the Green Man a tight smile.

  Okay, that whole interaction was not normal. Mates aren’t repulsed by each other’s touch, and they don’t just bear each other’s company.

  The Green Man smiles at Mara, then us, completely oblivious to his queen’s reaction. “Why don’t we take this somewhere quieter?” he says.

  “Fine,” Mara hisses, spinning on her heels.

  “I’m not going anywhere with either of you,” I say. Not after yesterday’s events.

  Mara gives me an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t stutter,” I say.

  The groups around us are falling quiet, shocked by my words.

  “You may be their queen,” I say, motioning to the room, “but you are not mine.”

  I hear some quick inhalations of breath.

  God it feels good to tell this woman off.

  “Desmond,” the Flora Queen says, “tell your ma—”

  I step in front of Des. “No,” I say. “The King of the Night is no message boy, and I can understand your words quiet clearly, so if you have something to say to me, say it to my face.”

  The ballroom is serene for all of five seconds. Then Mara’s power begins to build, shaking the very walls of her palace. The plants in the room come alive, twisting and snapping.

  “You idiotic waste of—”

  Desmond steps to my side. “Careful, queen. Any offense given to my mate, is an offense given to me. And I do not tolerate slights.”

  That’s the closest Des will come to admitting he’s behind the disappearances of Mara’s men. The Flora Queen reads between the lines anyway. Her eyes blaze as she takes in the Bargainer.

  “You son of—”

  The Green Man lays his hands on Des and Mara’s shoulders. “Privacy,” he emphasizes.

  The room continues to darken. I can feel Des’s magic coiling around me, steeping me in shadow. Around us, the guests have gone utterly silent.

  “Say it,” Des goads her, a smile drawing the edges of his lips up. “Finish the statement.”

  A chill slides over my skin.

  “Say it,” he says, quieter.

  The plants are whipping about, and Mara’s sharp green eyes are flinty. “You son of a whore. You’ll never be more than a bastard king, and your mate, a slave. You and your ilk disgrace my halls.”

  Des smiles, and the world goes dark.

  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.”