Rhapsodic
Page 40
A smile begins to spread along his lips, and it’s so very different from his usual expressions.
“Where are we going?” I shout over the wind, just to break the moment.
His hold tightens. “My palace.”
The place where Des reigns. Despite my reservations being here, I’m excited to see it. I can’t even count how many times I wondered what it looked like.
We rise higher and higher into the night air, passing through one billowing cloud after the next.
A group of tiny glittering fairies—pixies?—fly past us, then circle around Des, chittering excitedly.
“Of course I’m back,” he says by way of greeting, “no, I didn’t bring any candy, and yes, she is pretty.”
I feel a gentle tug on my hair and hear the sound of high-pitched laughter. When I glance over my shoulder, I see several of the little fairies diving through my hair, playing what appears to be hide-and-go-seek. One of them has latched onto a lock of it that billows in the breeze, squealing with excitement.
Um … alright.
“This is Callypso,” Des continues. “Callypso, these are the pixies of the west wind.”
“Hi,” I say over my shoulder, trying not to freak out at the fact that little people are using my hair like a jungle gym.
“Fairies believe it’s a blessing to be touched by pixies,” Des says, quietly.
“Oh.” And now I smile.
One of them flutters over and pets my cheek, speaking softly.
“She says you have kind eyes.”
I can hear the pixie’s voice squeaking near my ear as the rest of them climb up my hair and perch on the crown of my head.
Whatever she says next wipes Des’s expression clean.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing of importance.”
Angry chittering.
“End of discussion,” he says to the tiny pixie, his tone no longer indulgent. “Go ahead and tell the palace we’re coming.”
With a huff, the pixies scatter into the sky, ruffling my hair as they go. I watch them fly off until the evening clouds swallow them up.
“They were sweet,” I say.
“Mmm,” he says, looking distracted.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
“Nothing, cherub.”
That’s obviously a lie, but I don’t push.
We rise above another layer of clouds, and then the sky clears. An ocean of stars fill the night sky, brighter than any I’ve seen on earth. They’re so prominent, I feel I could almost reach out and touch them.
And then I catch sight of Desmond Flynn’s palace, and all thoughts of stars vanish.
Rising above the clouds is a castle made of the palest white stone. In the moonlight, it shimmers brightly, drawing attention to the tall spires and the maze of bridges and ramparts that connect them. Descending down on all sides of it is a walled city, every building made of the same milky white stone.
With the way the clouds spread out around the base of the city, it appears to float on the fluffy plumes. But as we get closer and the cloud cover dissipates, I can see the bottom of the slate grey mountain the city is built on.
An island in the sky. Impossible, and yet here in the Otherworld it exists.
Even the base of the floating island, appears to have been cut, chiseled, and faceted to look like more buildings. I make out columns and balconies, spiraling staircases and light flickering in cut glass windows.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Out of my periphery, I can feel Des’s gaze on me again, but for once, I’m too distracted to glance at him.
More pixies circle around us as we begin to descend. Soon I can make out the streets that run between buildings, and then I notice the fairies.
Most pause to watch our entrance. I feel every one of those foreign, predatory eyes on me, and I’m painfully aware that I’m a human in a land that enslaves my kind. I’m also aware that the Bargainer is holding me closer than necessary, and he’s making a very public entrance, as though he’s proud to show off the human in his arms.
Or that he just doesn’t give a fuck.
Knowing Des, I’m actually kind of betting on the latter.
He beats his wings faster as the white stone courtyard in front of his palace gets closer and closer. An elaborate bronze gate encircles the palace. Beyond it, men and women with pointed ears gather, their curious eyes trained on us. Several fae guards dressed in white and silver keep them back. They appear to be just as curious about us as I am about them.
Des and I land softly, his head bowed over mine. I step out of his hold, but I don’t attempt to shrug off the arm he keeps looped around my waist.
The crowd gathered around us is silent. Then, one by one, they begin to cheer.
I stare out at them, my eyebrows hiked up. Next to me, Des’s wings are splayed out, the span of them dwarfing us. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’d like to curl up in one of them and hide.
“Why are they cheering?” I whisper to him.
“There’s much you don’t know about the Kingdom of Night.” With that enigmatic response, he nods to our audience and then leads me towards the castle.
There are dozens of people gathered in the entrance hall—what I can only guess are his soldiers, officials, and aides—but none of them approach us, and Des doesn’t stop to speak to them, though he does acknowledge them with the tilt of his head.
My eyes move everywhere, because everywhere there is some enthralling sight to take in, whether it’s the massive bronze chandelier overhead whose flames spit and flicker like sparklers, or the ceiling that’s made to look like the heavens outside.
“Where are we going?” I shout over the wind, just to break the moment.
His hold tightens. “My palace.”
The place where Des reigns. Despite my reservations being here, I’m excited to see it. I can’t even count how many times I wondered what it looked like.
We rise higher and higher into the night air, passing through one billowing cloud after the next.
A group of tiny glittering fairies—pixies?—fly past us, then circle around Des, chittering excitedly.
“Of course I’m back,” he says by way of greeting, “no, I didn’t bring any candy, and yes, she is pretty.”
I feel a gentle tug on my hair and hear the sound of high-pitched laughter. When I glance over my shoulder, I see several of the little fairies diving through my hair, playing what appears to be hide-and-go-seek. One of them has latched onto a lock of it that billows in the breeze, squealing with excitement.
Um … alright.
“This is Callypso,” Des continues. “Callypso, these are the pixies of the west wind.”
“Hi,” I say over my shoulder, trying not to freak out at the fact that little people are using my hair like a jungle gym.
“Fairies believe it’s a blessing to be touched by pixies,” Des says, quietly.
“Oh.” And now I smile.
One of them flutters over and pets my cheek, speaking softly.
“She says you have kind eyes.”
I can hear the pixie’s voice squeaking near my ear as the rest of them climb up my hair and perch on the crown of my head.
Whatever she says next wipes Des’s expression clean.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing of importance.”
Angry chittering.
“End of discussion,” he says to the tiny pixie, his tone no longer indulgent. “Go ahead and tell the palace we’re coming.”
With a huff, the pixies scatter into the sky, ruffling my hair as they go. I watch them fly off until the evening clouds swallow them up.
“They were sweet,” I say.
“Mmm,” he says, looking distracted.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
“Nothing, cherub.”
That’s obviously a lie, but I don’t push.
We rise above another layer of clouds, and then the sky clears. An ocean of stars fill the night sky, brighter than any I’ve seen on earth. They’re so prominent, I feel I could almost reach out and touch them.
And then I catch sight of Desmond Flynn’s palace, and all thoughts of stars vanish.
Rising above the clouds is a castle made of the palest white stone. In the moonlight, it shimmers brightly, drawing attention to the tall spires and the maze of bridges and ramparts that connect them. Descending down on all sides of it is a walled city, every building made of the same milky white stone.
With the way the clouds spread out around the base of the city, it appears to float on the fluffy plumes. But as we get closer and the cloud cover dissipates, I can see the bottom of the slate grey mountain the city is built on.
An island in the sky. Impossible, and yet here in the Otherworld it exists.
Even the base of the floating island, appears to have been cut, chiseled, and faceted to look like more buildings. I make out columns and balconies, spiraling staircases and light flickering in cut glass windows.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Out of my periphery, I can feel Des’s gaze on me again, but for once, I’m too distracted to glance at him.
More pixies circle around us as we begin to descend. Soon I can make out the streets that run between buildings, and then I notice the fairies.
Most pause to watch our entrance. I feel every one of those foreign, predatory eyes on me, and I’m painfully aware that I’m a human in a land that enslaves my kind. I’m also aware that the Bargainer is holding me closer than necessary, and he’s making a very public entrance, as though he’s proud to show off the human in his arms.
Or that he just doesn’t give a fuck.
Knowing Des, I’m actually kind of betting on the latter.
He beats his wings faster as the white stone courtyard in front of his palace gets closer and closer. An elaborate bronze gate encircles the palace. Beyond it, men and women with pointed ears gather, their curious eyes trained on us. Several fae guards dressed in white and silver keep them back. They appear to be just as curious about us as I am about them.
Des and I land softly, his head bowed over mine. I step out of his hold, but I don’t attempt to shrug off the arm he keeps looped around my waist.
The crowd gathered around us is silent. Then, one by one, they begin to cheer.
I stare out at them, my eyebrows hiked up. Next to me, Des’s wings are splayed out, the span of them dwarfing us. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’d like to curl up in one of them and hide.
“Why are they cheering?” I whisper to him.
“There’s much you don’t know about the Kingdom of Night.” With that enigmatic response, he nods to our audience and then leads me towards the castle.
There are dozens of people gathered in the entrance hall—what I can only guess are his soldiers, officials, and aides—but none of them approach us, and Des doesn’t stop to speak to them, though he does acknowledge them with the tilt of his head.
My eyes move everywhere, because everywhere there is some enthralling sight to take in, whether it’s the massive bronze chandelier overhead whose flames spit and flicker like sparklers, or the ceiling that’s made to look like the heavens outside.
