A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer, #2)

by Laura Thalassa

“When I was Karnon’s prisoner, Des couldn’t find me because even though we’re technically mates…our magic is incompatible.” “Incompatible?” Temper says, looking bewildered. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. How can it be incompatible?” “I’m a human. He’s a fairy. Our magic comes from different worlds.” It’s the same reason why my glamour doesn’t work on the fae and why Karnon’s dark power never worked on me.

but when it comes to the melding of our two essences…our bond is imperfect. Soul mate bonds are always described as a magical thread tethering two people together. I never actually felt our bond—not as an actual, physical thing—but I never thought to worry about it either. Des has always felt like mine, even during all those years when I lived without him.

“And yet you’re still soul mates?” Temper says. I nod, my chin rubbing against the backs of my hands. That was the one thing Des emphasized over and over. You are my mate.

“Hi, Gladiola. I’m Temper and this is Callie,” she says, introducing us. Gladiola’s eyes dart to me. “I’m not supposed to talk with you.” “Why not?” Temper asks. “We’re all humans here.” I stare warily at my friend, trying to figure out what she’s playing at. Gladiola lets out a shaky breath. “The fairies are uncomfortable that a human woman is going to become the next Night Queen. They’re afraid you’ll put ideas in our heads.” “About equality?” Temper says. “What a terrible thing indeed,” she says sarcastically.

“They also don’t trust the Night King. He killed another king, and the Fauna fae want revenge. And—” She hesitates, as if realizing she’s doing the very thing she wasn’t supposed to. “And what?” Temper encourages.

“People have been saying the Night King is behind the disappearances,” she confesses. Her chin shakes a little. My stomach drops. That’s the second person today to say such a thing. “They say,” she continues, “that he’s the last person they see.”

I’m about to leave when he catches my wrist. “Wait—” “Do not touch me,” I warn. Des snaps his head up from his conversation across the room, his attention homing in on us. Janus releases my wrist like it burned him. “I was giving a speech to my people when you were taken. I have proof.”

“I don’t believe you,” I tell him. But not for the first time today, I hesitate. Am I remembering things wrong? Suddenly, none of that matters because Des materializes in front of me, coming between me and the King of Day. “Janus, you need to step the fuck away from my mate.” Des’s wings begin to unfurl, his talons looking particularly lethal. “Don’t talk to her”—he takes a step forward—“don’t look at her”—another ominous step—“don’t come close to her.” The two are almost nose to nose. “As far as you’re concerned, she doesn’t exist.”

“You’ve forgotten your place, Flynn. It’s within my rights to speak to any of the subjects here, mated or not.” Des’s voice drops low, so that only we can hear it. “Have I told you how easy it was to kill Karnon? His bones broke like twigs, his body burst like overripe fruit.” Des smiles, the action cruel. “Ending him was the easiest thing in the world. “Don’t make the same mistake he did. Stay the fuck away from my mate, or I will kill you, just as I did the mad king.” Des’s warning is enough to keep Janus at bay.

“What is this I hear of a gift?” he says when he reaches our group. He gently takes the delicate chalice from my hand. “Is this it?” he asks, pacing several feet away, his eyebrows raised. He brings the glass to his nose. “Lilac wine,” he says. Several people throughout the room gasp. He gives Mara an approving smile. “Cunning as ever, dear queen.” Ever so deliberately, he overturns the liquid, letting it spill onto the floor as he paces.

“You trod on my hospitality?” she says, an edge entering her voice. “Perhaps you should think twice before you try to con my mate. Someone could get the wrong idea,” Des says, looking remorseless. I knew something was up with that drink. Now Mara smiles. “And perhaps you should explain to your human mate why you refuse this most sacred and arcane of lovers’ rights. Or why she will die a mortal when she could’ve lived at your side for eons.”

His arms drop to his sides, and he prowls forward. “Fine, you want me to set the record straight? Here it is, straight and clear: I have imagined giving you lilac wine a thousand times.” He comes right up to me, and something about his agitated mood has me backing up. “I imagined slipping it to you just as Mara did, coaxing you into drinking it when you didn’t know any better.” My back hits a wall, and Des pins me in with his arms. “I’ve even had it prepared before,” he says, reaching out and stroking the column of my throat with his thumb. “I had it in my fridge back on Catalina Island, and I’ve had it on hand in my palace.” “What is it?”

“Somewhere deep in time, fairies found a way to make their mortal lovers immortal,” he says. His eyes look piercing, eager, as he speaks. “They gave their human lovers lilac wine, and flesh that should’ve aged became ageless, and magic that was once imperfect became perfect. Two species became one.” “I don’t understand,” I say. “Why keep this a secret?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to know your opinion. If you wanted to be immortal, it would mean you were okay forsaking all those things that make you so delightfully human—things I happen to love.”

“But if you didn’t want to be immortal, it would mean you expected me to stand by and watch you age—watch you die.” His gaze scours my face, deepening with sadness. Because I am aging. Without the lilac wine, I will die long before he ever does. “So you thought slipping me the wine was a better idea than getting my opinion on the matter?”

“If you notice, I have slipped you nothing,” he says. “But you’ve considered it,” I counter. “How many things have you considered? Does consideration make it wrong?” His lips brush my cheek. I swallow. “What stopped you from giving me the wine?”

“The same thing that stopped me from taking you away the night of your prom and making you mine forever. I have enough broken humanity to know it’s wrong and enough self-control to fight my innate nature.” “And what’s your innate nature?”

“To take what I want, when I want, and to apologize to no one for it.” Yeesh. “You want to know a secret?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Only if you drink the lilac wine will our bond be...

“Remind me again why you don’t want me to drink the wine?” I ask. Des gives me a small smile. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I waited eight years for you, cherub, and now you’re here, warming my bed and weaseling my secrets out of me. This is more than enough.”

“To answer your question: Mara probably had several motives when she gave you the lilac wine. She’d want the room to see her being generous to a human and accepting of our bond—that’s just good for politics. She was also making a point that you’d be more accepted if you were made to be more like us. And finally, she was probing our relationship for weaknesses.” “Why would she do that?”

“Leverage,” Des responds. “It’s quite easy to control people once you understand them.”

“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.

“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.

“What is this about, cherub?” Huh? “It’s about that, Des. Having a baby.” Just saying it makes it that much more real. I need a pregnancy test, stat. “I thought you wanted to have my child?”

“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 of moving slow?” His hand presses gently against my stomach, cradling it.

“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.

“I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He rubs his mouth and chin. “It’s just…it’s particularly difficult to conceive fae children. We don’t see them as burdens. I wouldn’t see a babe 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.” I search his eyes. “I wouldn’t ever consider a child with you a burden,” I say fervently, “and I do want that future with you.” The very idea of it sends a bolt of yearning through me. “Just not yet,”

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,

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 soul mates. I feel him shudder against me as he responds, “Till darkness dies.”

Using one arm to still hold me in place, the Bargainer reaches out with his other, and Mara grasps it. The moment they clasp hands, the air around them wavers, rippling like waves. “I swear to the Undying Gods, I am not behind the disappearances.” The queen’s body seems to relax. She nods. “I swear to the Undying Gods on behalf of my kingdom that we will ally with the Night Kingdom for fifty years.” The moment the words are spoken, the magic rippling around them implodes, sucking itself back into their clasped hands. And then it’s over.

“Her soul is not mine to take,” the black-eyed man says, still staring at me with a dark intensity. I feel the bite of a blade at my throat, and from the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a lock of white-blond hair. “You’re right,” the familiar voice at my back says. “It’s mine.” All at once the realization slams into me. Des. It’s Des’s voice at my back. “Enjoy each small death you have left,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m coming for you.” And then he slits my throat.

I glance up, into Des’s soft silver eyes, and my heart nearly stops. My ear still tingles where he spoke to me seconds ago, and I swear I still feel the phantom prick of pain across my throat from his blade. His eyes widen just a smidge at my reaction. “Cherub, are you…afraid of me?”

It was just a dream, and yet…and yet it felt real. What had Des told me a while back? Dreams are never just dreams. He searches my face a bit more. “You are.”

He lounges back in our bed, his face brooding. My eyes drift to his sleep-tousled hair and his bare chest. It’s an odd sensation, to be both frightened by and drawn to someone at the same time, but I am. “Callie,” he says, seeing me fighting my impulses, “come here.” I hesitate, and I swear that momentary pause breaks something in my mate. His voice drops lower. “It’s okay. I would never—” He falters. “I would never harm you,” he finishes.

Normal dreams, I’d be able to wake you from. These ones…these ones don’t release you until they’re ready. I assumed I’d lost my touch for waking you up, but now I wonder…” I search his face. “What?” “Controlling dreams is a Night Kingdom trait. It’s possible someone’s targeting you while you sleep, perhaps the same someone who’s taking soldiers.” He’s coming for you. “The Thief of Souls,” I whisper.

The only saving grace is Des, who’s busy whispering secrets in my ears about the audience members sitting in the pews. “He is one of the most vocal opponents of equal rights and protections for changelings, largely because he was spurned by the human he fell in love with.” “She’s sleeping with the entire royal guard, and everyone knows it except her husband.” “She has a servant who she secretly calls Daddy, and she regularly has him punish her.” He leans in again now. “All morning I’ve been fantasizing about spreading those soft thighs of yours and fucking you until you’re begging me to come.” I stagger a little on my feet, and my siren nearly bursts forth; it’s all I can do to keep her caged.

“What you did…” He searches my face. “No one will forget it. Not that woman you protected, not the room full of fairies, not the Flora Queen and her consort—and not me. Mara might wear a crown, but everyone in that room saw who the true queen was today.” My throat tightens. He’s going to make me cry.

I can still feel his ungodly anger in his trembling grasp, and I see it in the dimness of the room, but I don’t say anything. The King of the Night might be frightening to the rest of the world, but he isn’t to me.

“After she died, I never imagined I’d come across another woman like her,” Des says. “Someone who’d lived through much and still inherently knew right from wrong. Someone strong and brave.” His hand squeezes mine. “And then I met you.” I blink my eyes several times, my throat thick. Des sobers, his grip on my hand tightening. “When I saw you lying there, your wings broken…” He shakes his head. “It brought back memories from that night in Karnon’s throne room, and that night…that night brought back memories of my mother’s death.”

Outside, a human servant waits, his head bowed. In his hands is a bouquet of wildflowers. “Yes,” Des says, moving to the doorway. “I have a gift for the Night King’s mate,” he says, lifting the flowers a little as he speaks. I push myself off the bed. “Callie,” I say, crossing the room. I take the bouquet from him. “And thank you for the flowers.” His head hesitantly lifts, and I stare into his cool-green eyes. “Thank you for what you did,” he says softly. “None of us will forget.”

My despair and my pain fill me up, choking the life out of me. Suddenly, I can’t take it. Lightning heats my veins. Maybe, if I boil away all my suffering, all my petty insecurities, all my frustration and toil, I’ll hit an indestructible core. Something that cannot be broken by greed or lust or violence. Something that isn’t quite magic but is still power. “No,” I say, facing Temper. “I’m not running from this place.” The beginnings of a smile tug at my mate’s lips when I meet his eyes. I say, with steel in my voice, “It’s time the Otherworld understands just how strong a human can be.”

He smiles. “You tart thing.” He kisses me again, and as he does so, my panties slide off my hips, another bit of Des’s magic at play. He pulls away long enough to run his hand down my torso. “My brave mate, my fierce mate. No fairy has ever been prouder of his woman.” His words move me. Being here, in the Kingdom of Flora, has made it abundantly clear that humans aren’t seen as equals. But if there’s one thing Des has always made sure of, it’s making me feel like I’m his match in all ways.

His wings spread around me, enveloping us in a cocoon of his own making. “What if I wanted you to be my queen?” he asks as he thrusts in and out of me, his eyes glinting in the near darkness he’s created beneath his wings.

He presses his lips to my ear. “Give me the answer I want, and I’ll give you what you want.” What had he asked me? Something about being his queen… I should know better than to give in to Des’s bargains; they’re always weighted to his benefit. But pinned to the wall, with his cock buried deep inside me, I’m not exactly a strategic expert. And Des’s thrusts have pretty much come to a halt. “Yes,” I breathe, eager to resume where we left off. “Sounds great.” Anything to get him to move again. He smiles, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Good,” he says.

“My future queen,” Des says as he gazes up at me.

It’s not until several minutes later, once Des has slid out of me and the two of us lie in a tangle of limbs, that I remember his words. What if I wanted you to be my queen? Give me the answer I want, and I’ll give you what you want. What had I just agreed to?

“When I close my eyes, all I see is the shape of your face and the brightness of your smile. You are the stars in my dark sky, cherub.”

He blinks several times, pulling himself out of the past. “I killed my father.” My eyes snap to his. For several seconds, I don’t breathe. Des…killed his father? So many emotions bubble up. Surprise, horror, fear…kinship. You and I share many tragedies. Now I understand. His father and mine both died by our hands.

“Sometimes I see you, and the past is alive. It overlays who you are and what you do.” He squeezes me closer, almost to the point of pain. “I’m reminded of my old wounds, and I feel…I feel my vengeance rising. “I cannot change my past, and I cannot change yours. I cannot even stop you from getting hurt…but I can make others atone for your pain.” He says this last part so silently, so malevolently that a shiver escapes me.

I do as he asks, even though my heart’s pounding from his evasion. “Why?” I ask as he takes his position. He and I both know I’m not referring to his instructions. The two of us circle each other. “I think you know why,” he says, all but confirming the rumors are true.