Dark Harmony
Page 85
My skin is starting to glow, which is hugely embarrassing.
“Fine. But you’re going to tell me everything.”
“It began with Solstice.”
The two of us have stopped walking so that Des can explain himself.
“When I discovered that the Thief of Souls—Euribios—had wanted you to drink the lilac wine so you’d be vulnerable to his magic, I learned three things: One, the Thief was a clever bastard. Two, he wanted you. And three, it seemed that no fae was immune to his magic. He could put any of us to sleep the same way he had all of those soldiers; the only thing holding him back was his own scheming.”
My mind is racing, listening to this.
“I knew the Thief was waiting for the right moment to exact his plans—whatever they were—and I couldn’t let that happen.” Des’s eyes fall heavily on mine. “Not when I knew he wanted you.
“So I began devising a plan of my own, one that would save you and the Otherworld. I altered it as new information came in about the Thief. And once I discovered he was not just a god, but the god of darkness, I knew that even my power was useless against him.”
And yet, somehow Euribios still died.
Des threads his fingers through mine. “I’m sorry that I didn’t confide in you, Callie. He was using shadows to watch us.”
Of course. If Des had told me his plans, the Thief would’ve learned of them, and the element of surprise would’ve been lost.
“My father’s prophecy—” he continues, “I knew the human it mentioned was you, so I knew that not only could Galleghar fall, but the Thief could be taken down with him.”
My brows knit. “How could you be sure the prophecy was about me?” I ask.
The corner of Des’s mouth curves up. “Shadows are not the only creatures who tell me secrets. There are pixies and diviners and all sorts of other fae that have secrets to share.”
So my mate learned I was destined to stop Galleghar. That truth sits heavy in me. I was fated to be a killer centuries before I was even born. I try not to shudder at the thought.
“At some point, it came to me. How to truly stop Euribios.”
He pauses dramatically.
I give him a devastating look. “And?”
He laughs. “You’re adorable when you’re impatient.” He pulls me close and wraps a lock of my hair. “I made two deals—one with the Thief of Souls—and another with the shadows. With the Thief, I agreed to willingly become his prisoner, so long as neither you nor I died.”
The Thief hadn’t been able to get his hands on Des until that deal. Not when the Night King made a habit of obliterating the fae the Thief controlled. So Des came to him and struck a deal that made my mate seem weak and desperate. And Euribios, in all his pride and power, believed it.
“With the shadows,” Des continues, “I promised to rid them of Euribios for once and for all if they were willing to deceive him.”
The shadows that wouldn’t speak of the Thief of Souls.
“That’s a big promise,” I say. “How did the shadows do it?”
“You mean, how did they trick the Thief?”
I nod.
“Power is sentient—it can make decisions for itself.”
Des and I knew that better than most. It was what kept us apart for seven years.
“The shadows are a part of that sentience,” Des continues, “and they are what Euribios derives his power from—as do I.
“And that was the Thief’s fatal mistake. The god forgot that our power comes from the same source, a source has its own free will. So the shadows and I—we tricked him.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I spoke to the darkness during the only times I knew the Thief wasn’t listening—when you dreamed of him.”
All those sick dreams—Des couldn’t stop them from happening, but he could use them against the Thief.
“The shadows told me everything I needed to know, and it was them who helped me strike the deal with Euribios. And when the time came, it was the shadows that severed the Thief’s hold on me.”
He trusted the darkness with everything that mattered to him. .
“Why do you think the shadows helped you?” I ask. For years they’d been unwilling to breathe a word against the Thief.
Des stares down at me, his gaze intense. “Even before I could really use my power, I spoke to the darkness. They were my first friends.”
I think of that lonely, pale-haired boy who lived on Arestys, and my heart aches for him, even though that boy’s struggles made him the man I love.
“Euribios brutalized them just as he brutalized the fae. He abused them into submission eons ago, until the God of Light defeated him and freed the shadows. But then my father unleashed Euribios, and the shadows were forced to cower before his power once more.
“It’s not in the nature of shadows to be disloyal—even to terrible creatures—but they learned what it was like to exist outside of fear, and that is not something you can forget.”
What Des doesn’t add is that fear probably wasn’t the only factor that swayed these shadows. Desmond Flynn is beloved by the darkness.
“And so, with your help,” I say, “the shadows turned on their god.”
Des squeezes my hand, his eyes flashing in a very fae way.
“And so they did.”
After the Bargainer finishes explaining himself, we continue heading back through the palace. My thoughts are spinning a mile a minute from all that Des has told me. Faked deaths, disloyal shadows, and the secrets that saved us all.
I only shake off these thoughts when the two of us enter the room I found Des in. The altar still rests where I last saw it, along with all those shelves of potions and medical instruments and books with gilded titles. On the floor are my discarded weapons and the shattered remains of the objects previously knocked from the shelves.
None of that, however, is what catches the Bargainer’s attention.
His gaze locks on the slumped form on the other end of the room. In an instant he disappears from my side, reappearing—wings and all—next to the body of Galleghar Nyx.
I pace over to my discarded weapons, fastening them back on before I dare to creep closer to Des and his father. Part of me is fearful that Galleghar is still alive. Evil fathers have a way of defying death. In fact, this whole situation has the ring of déjà vu to it, only my and Des’s roles are reversed.
The Bargainer kneels, his white blond hair skimming his jawline as he stares down at the man who gave him life and death in equal measure.
“Is he dead?” I ask.
“Quite.” Des’s gaze travels over him.
The Bargainer’s hand touches one of his father’s chest wounds. He studies Galleghar’s injuries for a long time before he finally glances up. “He was right to fear you. You did kill him in the end.”
“That was the Thief.”
“You killed the Thief, and with the Thief’s death, the bond they shared broke. The Thief could no longer keep Galleghar’s death at bay.”
Birds, meet stone.
There are still so many questions I have—like why Euribios woke Galleghar when he did, and why the old god decided to uphold his end of their bargain when he so obviously could’ve broken his oath—but I fear I won’t get answers.
As we stare down at Des’s dead father, a spectral hand separates itself from Galleghar’s body, then an arm.
“Fine. But you’re going to tell me everything.”
“It began with Solstice.”
The two of us have stopped walking so that Des can explain himself.
“When I discovered that the Thief of Souls—Euribios—had wanted you to drink the lilac wine so you’d be vulnerable to his magic, I learned three things: One, the Thief was a clever bastard. Two, he wanted you. And three, it seemed that no fae was immune to his magic. He could put any of us to sleep the same way he had all of those soldiers; the only thing holding him back was his own scheming.”
My mind is racing, listening to this.
“I knew the Thief was waiting for the right moment to exact his plans—whatever they were—and I couldn’t let that happen.” Des’s eyes fall heavily on mine. “Not when I knew he wanted you.
“So I began devising a plan of my own, one that would save you and the Otherworld. I altered it as new information came in about the Thief. And once I discovered he was not just a god, but the god of darkness, I knew that even my power was useless against him.”
And yet, somehow Euribios still died.
Des threads his fingers through mine. “I’m sorry that I didn’t confide in you, Callie. He was using shadows to watch us.”
Of course. If Des had told me his plans, the Thief would’ve learned of them, and the element of surprise would’ve been lost.
“My father’s prophecy—” he continues, “I knew the human it mentioned was you, so I knew that not only could Galleghar fall, but the Thief could be taken down with him.”
My brows knit. “How could you be sure the prophecy was about me?” I ask.
The corner of Des’s mouth curves up. “Shadows are not the only creatures who tell me secrets. There are pixies and diviners and all sorts of other fae that have secrets to share.”
So my mate learned I was destined to stop Galleghar. That truth sits heavy in me. I was fated to be a killer centuries before I was even born. I try not to shudder at the thought.
“At some point, it came to me. How to truly stop Euribios.”
He pauses dramatically.
I give him a devastating look. “And?”
He laughs. “You’re adorable when you’re impatient.” He pulls me close and wraps a lock of my hair. “I made two deals—one with the Thief of Souls—and another with the shadows. With the Thief, I agreed to willingly become his prisoner, so long as neither you nor I died.”
The Thief hadn’t been able to get his hands on Des until that deal. Not when the Night King made a habit of obliterating the fae the Thief controlled. So Des came to him and struck a deal that made my mate seem weak and desperate. And Euribios, in all his pride and power, believed it.
“With the shadows,” Des continues, “I promised to rid them of Euribios for once and for all if they were willing to deceive him.”
The shadows that wouldn’t speak of the Thief of Souls.
“That’s a big promise,” I say. “How did the shadows do it?”
“You mean, how did they trick the Thief?”
I nod.
“Power is sentient—it can make decisions for itself.”
Des and I knew that better than most. It was what kept us apart for seven years.
“The shadows are a part of that sentience,” Des continues, “and they are what Euribios derives his power from—as do I.
“And that was the Thief’s fatal mistake. The god forgot that our power comes from the same source, a source has its own free will. So the shadows and I—we tricked him.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I spoke to the darkness during the only times I knew the Thief wasn’t listening—when you dreamed of him.”
All those sick dreams—Des couldn’t stop them from happening, but he could use them against the Thief.
“The shadows told me everything I needed to know, and it was them who helped me strike the deal with Euribios. And when the time came, it was the shadows that severed the Thief’s hold on me.”
He trusted the darkness with everything that mattered to him. .
“Why do you think the shadows helped you?” I ask. For years they’d been unwilling to breathe a word against the Thief.
Des stares down at me, his gaze intense. “Even before I could really use my power, I spoke to the darkness. They were my first friends.”
I think of that lonely, pale-haired boy who lived on Arestys, and my heart aches for him, even though that boy’s struggles made him the man I love.
“Euribios brutalized them just as he brutalized the fae. He abused them into submission eons ago, until the God of Light defeated him and freed the shadows. But then my father unleashed Euribios, and the shadows were forced to cower before his power once more.
“It’s not in the nature of shadows to be disloyal—even to terrible creatures—but they learned what it was like to exist outside of fear, and that is not something you can forget.”
What Des doesn’t add is that fear probably wasn’t the only factor that swayed these shadows. Desmond Flynn is beloved by the darkness.
“And so, with your help,” I say, “the shadows turned on their god.”
Des squeezes my hand, his eyes flashing in a very fae way.
“And so they did.”
After the Bargainer finishes explaining himself, we continue heading back through the palace. My thoughts are spinning a mile a minute from all that Des has told me. Faked deaths, disloyal shadows, and the secrets that saved us all.
I only shake off these thoughts when the two of us enter the room I found Des in. The altar still rests where I last saw it, along with all those shelves of potions and medical instruments and books with gilded titles. On the floor are my discarded weapons and the shattered remains of the objects previously knocked from the shelves.
None of that, however, is what catches the Bargainer’s attention.
His gaze locks on the slumped form on the other end of the room. In an instant he disappears from my side, reappearing—wings and all—next to the body of Galleghar Nyx.
I pace over to my discarded weapons, fastening them back on before I dare to creep closer to Des and his father. Part of me is fearful that Galleghar is still alive. Evil fathers have a way of defying death. In fact, this whole situation has the ring of déjà vu to it, only my and Des’s roles are reversed.
The Bargainer kneels, his white blond hair skimming his jawline as he stares down at the man who gave him life and death in equal measure.
“Is he dead?” I ask.
“Quite.” Des’s gaze travels over him.
The Bargainer’s hand touches one of his father’s chest wounds. He studies Galleghar’s injuries for a long time before he finally glances up. “He was right to fear you. You did kill him in the end.”
“That was the Thief.”
“You killed the Thief, and with the Thief’s death, the bond they shared broke. The Thief could no longer keep Galleghar’s death at bay.”
Birds, meet stone.
There are still so many questions I have—like why Euribios woke Galleghar when he did, and why the old god decided to uphold his end of their bargain when he so obviously could’ve broken his oath—but I fear I won’t get answers.
As we stare down at Des’s dead father, a spectral hand separates itself from Galleghar’s body, then an arm.
