Dark Harmony
Page 71
Impatient, I unleash a little more of my power. “You want to answer me,” I say, my voice hypnotic. “Now, tell me.”
The mean look in his eyes dissolves away; he stares at me like I’m some rare treasure. “In the Land of Nightmares, there’s a forest,” he says.
The Land of Nightmares …
Why does that sound familiar?
Memnos, I remember. The Land of Nightmares was another name for Memnos, one of the floating islands of the Night Kingdom. It was the only island Des didn’t take me to—and for good reason. It was where the creatures of nightmares lived.
“Deep in this forest, there is the Pit.” Galleghar’s gaze never wavers from mine. “Go to the Pit and travel as deep as you dare, and there you will find the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth and Thief himself.”
I exhale.
There it is, my long sought-after answer. My heart shudders to life. I want to laugh at all the hope I feel.
I will drag Des back up to the land of the living, and no one can stop me. Not even the Thief himself. For once, I will save the mate who’s saved me over and over again.
I glance over at Temper. Like the fairies in the room, she’s caught by the coils of my glamour, her eyes bright. Still, she manages a predatory smile.
Turning back to Galleghar, I shutter the full force of my power.
It’s the most natural thing in the world, strengthening and weakening my magic. And here I’d thought I had poor control over my siren. I’d never realized that I’d kept such a tight leash on my power this entire time, even when I had used it. At least, I hadn’t realized that until now, when I no longer cared about reining my alluring, destructive nature.
Galleghar’s expression flickers, then shifts, as my hold on him lessens. His features contort with his fury. I doubt anyone has treated him like this.
I study the former king, who’s still on his knees. Despite being a prisoner, he’s still dressed in fine linen, and he wears several rings.
“Let me see your hands.”
He fights my glamour, his hands trembling, but eventually he extends them out to me. Galleghar wears three bronze rings, one masterfully crafted to depict a crescent moon and stars, another one inset with a black stone, and the last one a simple band with a crudely carved face of a woman with wild hair, her mouth open in a scream.
My fingers land on that ring.
Beneath my touch, Galleghar’s skin jumps. Ignoring his reaction, I slip the ring off.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, my voice lilting. “I’m taking your jewelry.” A memento to remember him by—the king I brought to his knees with a look alone. The man who abused his power in so many horrific ways. He’s powerless now, perhaps for the first time in his unnaturally long life.
His mouth moves, probably to curse my name, but then I think he remembers my warning.
I will make you eat your tongue.
Whatever he was going to say stays firmly behind his teeth. He settles on glaring at me some more, the hate in his eyes mixing with a little pain. Being powerless is a terrible, humiliating feeling. Both Des and I would know. We’d been powerless before, victims of our fathers’ cruelty. Eight years ago Des had dealt with mine; now I’m returning the favor.
“Tell me, fallen king,” I say conversationally, “how many of your own children have you killed?”
He growls at me, battling back the words. I wait, a small smile tugging at my lips. He can’t hold out forever.
“I … do not … know.” The words are ripped from his throat.
I raise my eyebrows. “That many.” It actually hurts, thinking about these long dead heirs, some who must’ve been children and babies when their own father came after them.
“And have you ever been brought to justice for these crimes?”
The room is rapt, watching this horror show unfold.
“No,” he grinds out from between his teeth.
“Then it’s time you faced punishment.”
Galleghar scowls at me, furious.
“How does the Night Kingdom repay the man who forced countless women into his harem?” I ask. “Women who he took advantage of, women whose children he slaughtered. How do we repay the man who allowed the Thief of Souls to kidnap thousands of soldiers and force unspeakable cruelties on them?
“How do you collect justice for something like that?” I ask him.
It’s quiet for several seconds, the two of us staring each other down.
“You cannot,” Galleghar finally spits out, answering my rhetorical question.
Now I smile, just a little.
“That,” I say softly, “is where you’re wrong.” My eyes move to the soldiers standing by the doors. “Guards, find the bog, and bring him here.”
Galleghar’s eyes widen, and now his anger is replaced by panic. The former Night King’s face reddens as he squirms against my glamour, fighting to break free. Strong as he is, he cannot.
I can feel Temper’s eyes on me, I can sense her surprise and feel the barest breath of her approval. She might not know what a bog is, but she knows I’m about to do something bad, and she’s okay with that. We both harbor monsters within us; she understands this.
The sentiment in the rest of the room is a mystery. There’s magic in the air, and it tastes of fear and anticipation and wicked delight, but the fairies themselves give no indication of their true feelings.
It takes an eternity for the creature to join us. The entire time I stare Galleghar down. It’s the ripple of voices through the room more than the monster itself that alerts me the bog has arrived.
Eventually, I see it creeping up the aisle.
I don’t know if I’m doing right by Desmond or anyone else, or if my own wickedness is overtaking me, but I do know that I feel no guilt.
None at all.
“I don’t know what your fears are,” I say to Galleghar, “but I hope the bog savors them as much as I will.”
Ours to kill, the siren protests.
But I’m saving the killing for another creature.
Galleghar’s upper lip curls, still pinned to the ground by my orders. “I hope the Thief makes you suffer,” he says as the bog’s shadowy form slips up to him.
The former king’s attention moves briefly from me to the monster closing in on him. His breath hitches.
Galleghar’s gaze skirts back to me. He won’t beg—even now he has too much misplaced pride for that—but his eyes are imploring me for mercy.
The time for mercy has long since passed.
“I want you to know,” I say, “I’m doing this for every woman you wronged, every child you killed, every person you hurt. But more than that, I want you to know that I’m doing this for Desmond and his mother—and I’m doing this for me.”
I turn to the bog. “Devour him.”
Chapter 40
I’m going to save you, Des.
That line repeats through my head as I stalk through the Night King’s palace, the gauzy dress I wear dragging along behind me.
Need to change.
“Girl, that was cold,” Temper says at my side as the two of us put distance between ourselves and the throne room.
“You would’ve done the same.”
She snorts. “I would’ve done worse. We all know that of the two of us, you’re the good cop.”
I used to be. Now, on the other hand …
“Des’s father can’t be killed,” I say.
The mean look in his eyes dissolves away; he stares at me like I’m some rare treasure. “In the Land of Nightmares, there’s a forest,” he says.
The Land of Nightmares …
Why does that sound familiar?
Memnos, I remember. The Land of Nightmares was another name for Memnos, one of the floating islands of the Night Kingdom. It was the only island Des didn’t take me to—and for good reason. It was where the creatures of nightmares lived.
“Deep in this forest, there is the Pit.” Galleghar’s gaze never wavers from mine. “Go to the Pit and travel as deep as you dare, and there you will find the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth and Thief himself.”
I exhale.
There it is, my long sought-after answer. My heart shudders to life. I want to laugh at all the hope I feel.
I will drag Des back up to the land of the living, and no one can stop me. Not even the Thief himself. For once, I will save the mate who’s saved me over and over again.
I glance over at Temper. Like the fairies in the room, she’s caught by the coils of my glamour, her eyes bright. Still, she manages a predatory smile.
Turning back to Galleghar, I shutter the full force of my power.
It’s the most natural thing in the world, strengthening and weakening my magic. And here I’d thought I had poor control over my siren. I’d never realized that I’d kept such a tight leash on my power this entire time, even when I had used it. At least, I hadn’t realized that until now, when I no longer cared about reining my alluring, destructive nature.
Galleghar’s expression flickers, then shifts, as my hold on him lessens. His features contort with his fury. I doubt anyone has treated him like this.
I study the former king, who’s still on his knees. Despite being a prisoner, he’s still dressed in fine linen, and he wears several rings.
“Let me see your hands.”
He fights my glamour, his hands trembling, but eventually he extends them out to me. Galleghar wears three bronze rings, one masterfully crafted to depict a crescent moon and stars, another one inset with a black stone, and the last one a simple band with a crudely carved face of a woman with wild hair, her mouth open in a scream.
My fingers land on that ring.
Beneath my touch, Galleghar’s skin jumps. Ignoring his reaction, I slip the ring off.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, my voice lilting. “I’m taking your jewelry.” A memento to remember him by—the king I brought to his knees with a look alone. The man who abused his power in so many horrific ways. He’s powerless now, perhaps for the first time in his unnaturally long life.
His mouth moves, probably to curse my name, but then I think he remembers my warning.
I will make you eat your tongue.
Whatever he was going to say stays firmly behind his teeth. He settles on glaring at me some more, the hate in his eyes mixing with a little pain. Being powerless is a terrible, humiliating feeling. Both Des and I would know. We’d been powerless before, victims of our fathers’ cruelty. Eight years ago Des had dealt with mine; now I’m returning the favor.
“Tell me, fallen king,” I say conversationally, “how many of your own children have you killed?”
He growls at me, battling back the words. I wait, a small smile tugging at my lips. He can’t hold out forever.
“I … do not … know.” The words are ripped from his throat.
I raise my eyebrows. “That many.” It actually hurts, thinking about these long dead heirs, some who must’ve been children and babies when their own father came after them.
“And have you ever been brought to justice for these crimes?”
The room is rapt, watching this horror show unfold.
“No,” he grinds out from between his teeth.
“Then it’s time you faced punishment.”
Galleghar scowls at me, furious.
“How does the Night Kingdom repay the man who forced countless women into his harem?” I ask. “Women who he took advantage of, women whose children he slaughtered. How do we repay the man who allowed the Thief of Souls to kidnap thousands of soldiers and force unspeakable cruelties on them?
“How do you collect justice for something like that?” I ask him.
It’s quiet for several seconds, the two of us staring each other down.
“You cannot,” Galleghar finally spits out, answering my rhetorical question.
Now I smile, just a little.
“That,” I say softly, “is where you’re wrong.” My eyes move to the soldiers standing by the doors. “Guards, find the bog, and bring him here.”
Galleghar’s eyes widen, and now his anger is replaced by panic. The former Night King’s face reddens as he squirms against my glamour, fighting to break free. Strong as he is, he cannot.
I can feel Temper’s eyes on me, I can sense her surprise and feel the barest breath of her approval. She might not know what a bog is, but she knows I’m about to do something bad, and she’s okay with that. We both harbor monsters within us; she understands this.
The sentiment in the rest of the room is a mystery. There’s magic in the air, and it tastes of fear and anticipation and wicked delight, but the fairies themselves give no indication of their true feelings.
It takes an eternity for the creature to join us. The entire time I stare Galleghar down. It’s the ripple of voices through the room more than the monster itself that alerts me the bog has arrived.
Eventually, I see it creeping up the aisle.
I don’t know if I’m doing right by Desmond or anyone else, or if my own wickedness is overtaking me, but I do know that I feel no guilt.
None at all.
“I don’t know what your fears are,” I say to Galleghar, “but I hope the bog savors them as much as I will.”
Ours to kill, the siren protests.
But I’m saving the killing for another creature.
Galleghar’s upper lip curls, still pinned to the ground by my orders. “I hope the Thief makes you suffer,” he says as the bog’s shadowy form slips up to him.
The former king’s attention moves briefly from me to the monster closing in on him. His breath hitches.
Galleghar’s gaze skirts back to me. He won’t beg—even now he has too much misplaced pride for that—but his eyes are imploring me for mercy.
The time for mercy has long since passed.
“I want you to know,” I say, “I’m doing this for every woman you wronged, every child you killed, every person you hurt. But more than that, I want you to know that I’m doing this for Desmond and his mother—and I’m doing this for me.”
I turn to the bog. “Devour him.”
Chapter 40
I’m going to save you, Des.
That line repeats through my head as I stalk through the Night King’s palace, the gauzy dress I wear dragging along behind me.
Need to change.
“Girl, that was cold,” Temper says at my side as the two of us put distance between ourselves and the throne room.
“You would’ve done the same.”
She snorts. “I would’ve done worse. We all know that of the two of us, you’re the good cop.”
I used to be. Now, on the other hand …
“Des’s father can’t be killed,” I say.
