A Strange Hymn (The Bargainer, #2)

by Laura Thalassa

“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 before coming up for an attack from behind. The Night King turns just in time, deflecting my blow. “Why?” I ask again. “No one whips my mate.” The

“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 like the one he gave Mara when she asked him a similar question. I push away from him, backing up. “Damn it, Des,” I whisper hiss, “I am not some fae queen to trick with your words. Just be honest with me.”

“Do you trust me?” he asks. All 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 rescued me from myself and sets me aflame over and over? “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.”

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.”

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.

“Fine,” Mara whispers, 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 fall quiet, shocked by my words. “You may be their queen,” I say, motioning to the room, “but you are not mine.”

“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 quite clearly, so if you have something to say to me, say it to my face.”

“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. Her eyes blaze as she takes in the Bargainer. “You son of—”

“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.

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 plants rustling. It takes several seconds for me to realize 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 our deepest desires and most secret fears were born. And I know all of yours. Perhaps I should share them…”

“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.”

“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 you is extra scandalous. “There are other things I’ve learned. Should I keep going?”

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.”

The four remaining soldiers close in around me, helping me to my feet. Already several of them have their wings out. No doubt they were about to join me up in the canopy. I glance above me. As I watch, the vines completely ensnare the soldier, cleaving him to the tree. And then—horror of horrors—with a wet rip, the trunk of the tree parts around the fairy and begins to suck him in.

It only takes seconds for the trunk of the tree to fully wrap around the fairy and then another several seconds for it to reseal, starting at the soldier’s feet and working its way up, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. And then it’s over.

I drop my sword, and together with my guards, I pull out the coughing soldier from the heart of the tree. He pants, pulling off fine, spindly roots that seem to have wedged their way under his skin and into his veins. “Thank you,” he wheezes to his comrades, clasping one of them on the shoulder. His eyes move over the group until they find me. The rescued guard gets up, dusting dirt and bark off himself. He kneels before me, taking my hand and pressing it to his forehead. “I owe you more than just my allegiance, my queen. I vow that as long as I live, my shield and my sword will protect you. My life is yours.”

With one final rip, I unearth exactly what I feared. In the heart of the tree, covered in gore and a web of roots, is a sleeping man. Like this whole outing, it’s downright spooky. I’m staring into the face of a man who’s been missing for who knows how long, his arms crossed over his chest as though someone laid him out.

Mara, the vain Queen of Flora, has been hiding men in her sacred oak forest, one of the places where it’s forbidden to strike down a tree. No wonder no one had found the soldiers—they’d been hidden inside the one place that could not be disturbed. Only an outsider like me would be ignorant and ballsy enough to desecrate this grove.

Motioning with his hand, the Bargainer uses magic to pry the sleeping soldier out of the tree. Vines groan and snap as the man is released. His body is covered in gore like a new baby’s might be when Des’s magic settles him onto the grass. And in some ways, this is a dark rebirth. “The bleeding trees,” I say to Des.

The Bargainer nods. “I know, cherub.” His eyes meet mine. The plants aren’t rotting from a disease at all—they’re coffins. Des leans over the sleeping soldier, his eyes scouring the man. “He’s just like the women.” A muscle in his cheek ticks.

“I never thought it would be you,” Des says quietly, menace riding his voice. His wings snap out, the bone-white talons gleaming in the darkness. The shadows are gathering around him. Mara’s head is still bowed. “You entered the Fauna King’s palace and defiled it. I invited you to my kingdom, and you dared to do the same. First with my harem, and now with my holy forest.”

“You thought promising peace between our kingdoms would earn you immunity.” Her hair begins to whip about her as her power rises, the floral scent now mingling with the cloying smell of rot. “You—thought—wrong.” Mara screams, and a hundred different roots and vines shoot toward us. Des steps in front of me, and shadows blast out from him, snuffing out the fairy lights and blocking out the heavens above. The roots wither and die away before they can do more than caress my skin. Everything is inky darkness.

“So the Bastard of Arestys found himself a human mate.” The man’s voice comes from above me. “Here I was, ready to pity him.” The Bastard of Arestys…I’ve heard that from somewhere… “But you are nothing quite so ordinary,” he continues. “A human with wings and scales. A siren who can ensnare mortals with her voice alone. Even I might’ve made an exception for a mortal like you.”

Before I can, my attacker’s hand threads into my hair. He yanks my head back. With a shriek, I turn into the motion, twisting and swiping out with my stolen blade. The knife cuts through the air before slicing into my attacker’s side. Hissing in air, he releases my hair and steps back. I rotate to face him, my lungs heaving. Almost in a daze, he touches his side. He stares at his bloody fingers, shocked. Bloodlust surges in me. I rise to my feet, my wings billowing out in a show of power. The fairy’s face morphs, turning sinister. “You cut me.”

My surroundings darken. “Cherub,” Des says, appearing at my side and dragging the darkness along with him, “what are you doing out…” His words die away when he catches sight of my attacker. “You.” Across from us, the fairy’s cruel mouth curves. “Hello, my son.”

The fairy’s arms wrap around me. Then I’m jerked off my feet and into the sky. He propels the two of us high into the night air. “What do you think your mate desires more—love or life?” he whispers into my ear as my mate charges after us. I struggle against him. Higher and higher, the two of us shoot into the sky. “Why don’t we find out?” Des’s father says. His arms open, and abruptly, I slip from them. I hear Des shout as I pinwheel in the sky.

All at once I’m scooped out of the air and into Des’s arms. “I’ve got you,” he says. No sooner does he speak than Galleghar appears at the Bargainer’s back, his hands braced against Des’s wings. He jerks sharply on them, and I hear the snapping of bones. He broke my mate’s wings! Des roars in agony and anger, those massive wings folding at an unnatural angle. And his father, his damnable father, laughs before disappearing just as quickly as he appeared.

He comes right up to me, reaching out to stroke my dimming skin. “You are utterly singular,” he says, his finger moving over the scales that dust my arms. His eyes flick to mine. “I find I’ve become quite…enthralled by you.” I step away from him, grimacing a little. “Where’s Mara?” I ask, looking over his shoulder.

“Mourning her beloved trees,” he says, not taking his amber eyes off me. “I admit, I was utterly titillated when you struck down those oaks.” He shakes his head. “That brute human logic of yours does indeed stir things up around here.” The Green Man reaches for me again. I slap his hand away. That earns me a nefarious smile. “The one wife I couldn’t have, the one soul I couldn’t claim,” he says. My skin goes cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you miss me while I was away?” He begins to circle me. “I’ve looked forward to chatting with you since our last little encounter in the Fauna Kingdom.”

“What are you?” I ask. For one second, his body morphs. Inky-black hair and eyes replace the Green Man’s more vibrant ones. His skin pales, his features turning sinister. Those upturned eyes, that pouty mouth and plaited hair. I’ve seen that face before! It’s the dark-haired man from my most recent nightmare. “What is a body really?” he says. “Something that constrains you, something that perishes.” The image dissipates, and he’s the Green Man once more. “I have a thousand eyes and even more souls. I am what happens when even darkness dies. Look at me and see the truth.”

I do look at him. I can’t bear to take my eyes off him. This is the man who has hidden thousands of soldiers and raped thousands more. The Thief of Souls.

“Stay away from me,” I hiss at him, lifting the weapon. “Alas, I cannot. You, my sweet, have presented me with a unique problem.” He rubs his lower jaw as he talks. “A prophecy demands you must die in order for me to get what I want, but if you do, you are beyond my reach.”

“What is it you want?” He grins again, the sight unsettling. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Ask yourself this: Why would a thief such as me steal as many soldiers as I have?” That’s one of the many things I could never figure out about this mystery.

I begin to back up. “I don’t understand—what does Galleghar have to do with any of this?” I ask. Even now, the sky thunders with the sounds of father and son. The Thief of Souls smiles. “There’s an old prophetess who can answer that question—for a price. One way or another, you’ll figure it out.”

I know it’s no use asking; no answer will be good enough. But I ask anyway. “Why are you doing this?” His eyes seem to dance. “Perhaps it is time for you to learn more about me, as I have you.” He reaches out to me again, cupping my cheek.

“I do have one problem, enchantress. As exquisite as I find you, you are beyond my control. There is, however, a remedy for that.”

The Thief of Souls drags my blade down my other cheek, slicing open the flesh. I feel a brief sting and then the warm sensation of blood slipping down my jaw. “The only problem is, the moment I truly hurt you, your mate will be on me.” He taps the blunt part of his blade against my nose. “But I think I’ve figured out a solution.”

He leans in close. “Why don’t I explain exactly what I plan for you? “Right now, my magic is incompatible with yours, and that ruins all my fun. But it doesn’t have to be that way—not if you drink a certain something. “Have you heard that lilac wine, the rarest of fairy elixirs, can not only bestow longevity to mortals, it can heal the wounded?”

“It’s a cure-all of sorts, and if you drink it, well, then you would be able to fall victim to my power, and your soul…your soul could be mine for the taking.” This sicko. “I could just give the wine to you here and now, but”—he seems far too giddy—“I have an even better idea.”

“This might hurt.” With one swift movement, he buries the knife in my gut.

The Bargainer looks like some dark god; never has he seemed quite so Otherworldly. And I can barely see him through my dimming vision. I clutch the gash on my stomach, blood pouring from it. I feel myself weakening with each breath I take. Mortally wounded. I might have minutes left. And the agony! I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow down my bile.

Des’s eyes widen when he sees what I’m about to do. “Callypso, no—” I yank the blade out, gagging on the pain, the nausea, and the screams that should be rising out of me. A torrent of blood gushes out of the wound, making me sway on my feet. Some of the shadows—Des’s shadows—are receding, but a different sort of darkness tugs on the edges of my vision. Death. My mate is at my side in an instant, relinquishing his vengeance for love.

“Cherub, what are you doing?” he asks, his voice torn up. I meet his crushed gaze. He’s a man watching everything he’s lived for slip through his grasp. Even he fears I’m going to die.

The Thief of Souls laughs, even as blood seeps out of his wound. “You can’t kill me,” he says. His face changes from that of the Green Man, earning another shriek from Mara. The queen didn’t even know the man she slept next to wasn’t her husband. Raven-dark hair and inky-black eyes replace the Green Man’s evergreen hair and amber irises. “Want to know a secret?” he whispers. “Janus had a twin, a twin who died. The first time you met him, you were really meeting me.”

He says, “Ask yourself this: Do the dead ever really die?” I stare down at the monster who’s already ruined so many lives, feeling my own life force seep out of me.

“This is our little game—and trust me, enchantress, it’s far from over.” A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, a dust devil rising around him. “I’m still coming for you,” he promises me. “Your life is mine.”

I touch his battle-weary face, gazing into his fathomless eyes. They’re like a beacon, calling me to life. But the shadows are closing in on me… “I love you, Des.” “You are not leaving me, Callie,” he says fiercely. My cold hand slips from his face, and I start to descend into that final, eternal darkness.

She’s not going to die. She can’t. She may. Just like my mother. This is what happens to brave women. Strong women. If you’re worthy enough, they’ll bleed for you. They’ll die for you. I feel my throat working. Please, not again. Never again. And not her. My mate.