Rhapsodic
Page 70
As soon as we land, my body sways in his arms from the rush of blood.
His grip on me tightens when I try to pull away. “Give yourself a moment, Callie,” he says, his voice low.
I do, not entirely minding his embrace.
Once Des senses that I’ve stopped swaying, he releases me.
I glance around what must be one of the lowest levels of the city. It’s cold here, colder than the open air above. “What is this place?”
“Welcome to the capital’s industrial district, where Somnia’s exports leaves and its imports arrive.”
So people don’t live here per se. That’s a relief. Compared to the rest of the city, this area is kind of a bummer. I mean, it’s beautiful, in a creepy way, but it isn’t a place I would want to linger.
I glance towards the simple wooden door that leads inside from our balcony. Unease stirs low in my belly. I can’t detect magic the same way a fae might, yet even I don’t want to walk through that door, though I’m sure that’s precisely what we’re going to do.
Not a moment later my suspicions are proven correct when Des steers me towards the door.
“This used to be a storage facility,” he explains, “just like the rest of the buildings in this area. It was converted to a temporary shelter for the sleeping when we ran out of space …”
Ahead of us, the door creaks open, and the two of us step into a cavernous, windowless warehouse.
The Bargainer nods to a guard on the far side of the room who appears to be keeping vigil.
Without a word, the guard exits a far door, giving us privacy.
I glance around. Like many of the rooms in the palace, someone’s used magic to depict the night sky on the ceiling. Tiny starbursts of light shine softly from scones set into the wall, but they do very little to ease away the darkness that gathers in this room.
That’s all I notice of the warehouse itself because—
All of those coffins.
There are hundreds of them—maybe thousands. Rows and rows of glass caskets. My eyes sweep over them.
“So many,” I breathe.
Next to me the Bargainer frowns. “Almost twice this number of women are still missing from my kingdom alone.”
I suck in a breath of air. Practically a city’s worth. Albeit, a small city, but still.
Such staggering numbers.
Inside each casket, I catch glimpses of the women, their hands folded over their chests. So eerie.
“Each one had a child with her?” I ask.
The Bargainer nods, running a thumb over his lower lip. Those lips that were all over me not an hour ago.
He catches my eye, and whatever look I wear, it causes his nostrils to flare.
I have to rip my gaze away. I don’t really want to have a moment with this man while we stand inside what’s essentially a morgue.
“Where are all the children?” I ask. There were no more than two dozen in the royal nursery.
“They’re living with their remaining family.”
I raise my eyebrows. Hundreds of those odd children are now living in fae households?
“Have there been any complaints?” I ask.
Des nods. “But more than that, there’s been a steep increase in infanticide in the last few years.”
It takes me a second to actually connect the dots.
I suck in a breath. “They kill the kids?”
He sees my horrified expression. “Are you really so surprised, cherub? Even on earth we have a reputation for being ruthless.”
Of course I’m surprised. Children are children are children. No matter how disconcerting they are, you don’t just … kill them.
“Before you judge my people, you should know that there have been cases of caregivers falling into the same … sleep as these women. And in plenty of these cases of infanticide, these children aren’t the victims, they’re the perpetrators.”
The thought of it all makes me queasy. I don’t envy Des his job as king. I can’t imagine any of this.
“Have any of the servants working in the nursery fallen into this same sleep?” I ask, looking out across the room.
“A couple,” he admits, casting a glance back over the coffins, “the fae ones. Humans seem to be somewhat immune, so now they’re the only ones that have direct contact with the children inside the palace.”
Des jerks his chin towards the caskets. “Go ahead, cherub,” he says, changing the subject, “have a look at them.”
I drag my gaze back over the room. Just the sight of all those women lying so still has the hair on my forearms rising.
Warily, I leave Des’s side, my footsteps echoing inside the cavernous room. I walk towards the closest row of coffins, almost afraid to peer down into them.
The glass glints under the low lighting, making the caskets shimmer in the near darkness.
I step up next to one of the caskets and force myself to look down at the woman. She has raven-dark hair and a heart-shaped face. A sweet face, one that you wouldn’t imagine would be on the body of a warrior. Her pointed ears peek between her locks of hair.
I swallow, staring down at her. Last time I saw a body this still, it was my stepfather’s.
Blood on my hands, blood in my hair … never be free.
I force my gaze away from her face. She wears a black tunic and fitted breeches that are tucked into suede boots. Her hands are folded across her chest, resting on the pommel of a sword that lies down her torso.
She’s so still, so serene, and yet a part of me expects her to open her eyes, and use that sword to break free of the coffin.
His grip on me tightens when I try to pull away. “Give yourself a moment, Callie,” he says, his voice low.
I do, not entirely minding his embrace.
Once Des senses that I’ve stopped swaying, he releases me.
I glance around what must be one of the lowest levels of the city. It’s cold here, colder than the open air above. “What is this place?”
“Welcome to the capital’s industrial district, where Somnia’s exports leaves and its imports arrive.”
So people don’t live here per se. That’s a relief. Compared to the rest of the city, this area is kind of a bummer. I mean, it’s beautiful, in a creepy way, but it isn’t a place I would want to linger.
I glance towards the simple wooden door that leads inside from our balcony. Unease stirs low in my belly. I can’t detect magic the same way a fae might, yet even I don’t want to walk through that door, though I’m sure that’s precisely what we’re going to do.
Not a moment later my suspicions are proven correct when Des steers me towards the door.
“This used to be a storage facility,” he explains, “just like the rest of the buildings in this area. It was converted to a temporary shelter for the sleeping when we ran out of space …”
Ahead of us, the door creaks open, and the two of us step into a cavernous, windowless warehouse.
The Bargainer nods to a guard on the far side of the room who appears to be keeping vigil.
Without a word, the guard exits a far door, giving us privacy.
I glance around. Like many of the rooms in the palace, someone’s used magic to depict the night sky on the ceiling. Tiny starbursts of light shine softly from scones set into the wall, but they do very little to ease away the darkness that gathers in this room.
That’s all I notice of the warehouse itself because—
All of those coffins.
There are hundreds of them—maybe thousands. Rows and rows of glass caskets. My eyes sweep over them.
“So many,” I breathe.
Next to me the Bargainer frowns. “Almost twice this number of women are still missing from my kingdom alone.”
I suck in a breath of air. Practically a city’s worth. Albeit, a small city, but still.
Such staggering numbers.
Inside each casket, I catch glimpses of the women, their hands folded over their chests. So eerie.
“Each one had a child with her?” I ask.
The Bargainer nods, running a thumb over his lower lip. Those lips that were all over me not an hour ago.
He catches my eye, and whatever look I wear, it causes his nostrils to flare.
I have to rip my gaze away. I don’t really want to have a moment with this man while we stand inside what’s essentially a morgue.
“Where are all the children?” I ask. There were no more than two dozen in the royal nursery.
“They’re living with their remaining family.”
I raise my eyebrows. Hundreds of those odd children are now living in fae households?
“Have there been any complaints?” I ask.
Des nods. “But more than that, there’s been a steep increase in infanticide in the last few years.”
It takes me a second to actually connect the dots.
I suck in a breath. “They kill the kids?”
He sees my horrified expression. “Are you really so surprised, cherub? Even on earth we have a reputation for being ruthless.”
Of course I’m surprised. Children are children are children. No matter how disconcerting they are, you don’t just … kill them.
“Before you judge my people, you should know that there have been cases of caregivers falling into the same … sleep as these women. And in plenty of these cases of infanticide, these children aren’t the victims, they’re the perpetrators.”
The thought of it all makes me queasy. I don’t envy Des his job as king. I can’t imagine any of this.
“Have any of the servants working in the nursery fallen into this same sleep?” I ask, looking out across the room.
“A couple,” he admits, casting a glance back over the coffins, “the fae ones. Humans seem to be somewhat immune, so now they’re the only ones that have direct contact with the children inside the palace.”
Des jerks his chin towards the caskets. “Go ahead, cherub,” he says, changing the subject, “have a look at them.”
I drag my gaze back over the room. Just the sight of all those women lying so still has the hair on my forearms rising.
Warily, I leave Des’s side, my footsteps echoing inside the cavernous room. I walk towards the closest row of coffins, almost afraid to peer down into them.
The glass glints under the low lighting, making the caskets shimmer in the near darkness.
I step up next to one of the caskets and force myself to look down at the woman. She has raven-dark hair and a heart-shaped face. A sweet face, one that you wouldn’t imagine would be on the body of a warrior. Her pointed ears peek between her locks of hair.
I swallow, staring down at her. Last time I saw a body this still, it was my stepfather’s.
Blood on my hands, blood in my hair … never be free.
I force my gaze away from her face. She wears a black tunic and fitted breeches that are tucked into suede boots. Her hands are folded across her chest, resting on the pommel of a sword that lies down her torso.
She’s so still, so serene, and yet a part of me expects her to open her eyes, and use that sword to break free of the coffin.
