Dark Harmony
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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2018, 2023 by Laura Thalassa
Cover and internal design © 2023 by Sourcebooks
Cover design by Amanda Hudson/Faceout Studios
Cover images by mrjo/Shutterstock, arigato/Shutterstock, Studiotan/Shutterstock; Visoot Uthairam/Getty Images
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks. Bloom Books is a trademark of Sourcebooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Bloom Books, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
sourcebooks.com
Originally self-published in 2018 by Laura Thalassa.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file with the Library of Congress.
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Excerpt from Pestilence
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Glossary
About the Author
Back Cover
For those who dream—
Keep at your magic.
“Stars, hide your fires; / Let not light see my black and deep desires.”
—William Shakespeare, Macbeth
Chapter 1
I stare down at my hands for the fiftieth time since Des and I returned from the Flora Kingdom, looking for something that indicates I’m different. Changed.
Immortal.
I press my palm to my heart. Beneath the steady thump of it, I feel something else. Something magical and mysterious.
Something that wasn’t there just days ago.
My connection to Des thrums under my touch like a second heartbeat, the two of us now magically bound together.
I slide him a coy glance.
Des sits along a thick stone railing, his back resting against one of the columns bolted into the rocky island. The two of us linger on the lowest balcony of Somnia, one of the six floating islands of the Night Kingdom and the capital of the Bargainer’s realm.
“I’m angry at you, you know,” I say, though there’s no venom to the words.
The Bargainer’s eyes are closed, his head tipped back against the column. “I know.”
I watch him as he sits on the very edge of the world, the dark night beyond him. In the distance, the chittering laughter of pixies rides the evening wind.
“You never asked me if I wanted to live forever.” My voice catches on that last word.
Technically, I’m not going to live forever, but it might as well be that long. Thanks to the lilac wine Des fed me, I’m now looking at a solid four hundred years of life—if not more.
What will the earth look like by the time I actually kick the bucket? How about the Otherworld?
Need to talk to Temper about how freaking long fairy life spans are.
The Bargainer’s eyes open, his glittering silver gaze looking fearsome and fae.
He gives me a hint of a smile, though there’s no humor in it. “Cherub, you seem to be forgetting the fact you were dying at the time.”
I was dying, and he was unwilling to let me go.
He reaches out a hand to me, and his magic tugs me toward him. I frown as I’m ushered to his side.
Des taps my mouth. “Tell me, Callie,” he says, his voice like honeyed wine as his hands fall to my waist, “don’t you want to spend more than just a few decades with me?”
Of course I do. That’s beside the point.
I’m upset that I didn’t get a chance to decide my fate for myself. And now the future looms endlessly ahead of me.
Des lifts his inked arm into the air. Luminescent blue smoke coalesces from the night, solidifying more and more as it snakes its way to the Bargainer’s hand. By the time it reaches his palm, it’s a glowing cord. I’ve seen this stuff before: spun moonlight.
The Bargainer manipulates it in his hand, working the eerie substance until it’s not just a cord but an elaborate necklace.
I narrow my eyes as he brings the unearthly jewelry to my throat.
“That’s not fair,” I say as he clasps it behind my neck, even as my fingertips reach for the necklace. “You can’t just pull one of your pretty fairy tricks and buy my forgiveness.”
But he can, and he has, and he will do so again. These neat little tricks of his have made me forgive a lot.
The Bargainer turns on his perch so his legs straddle mine. He pulls me in close, my hips fitting snugly between his thighs. “My pretty fairy tricks are what you like best about me,” he says, his lips skimming my mouth as he talks. His gaze drops to my lips. “Well, that and my di—”
“Des.”
He laughs against my skin, his warm breath drawing out my gooseflesh. Slowly, the laughter dies from his features. “I lost you once, Callie,” he says, “and those seven years nearly killed me. I don’t intend to lose you again.”
My gut clenches at the memory. Even now I can feel the ache of his absence; it’s a wound that never healed.
Des presses a hand to my heart. “Besides—is this not worth it?”
He doesn’t need to elaborate on what this is.
Beneath his palm, I feel the warmth of Des’s presence—not only against my skin but within me. It feels like I’m being kissed by pale moonlight, like the stars and the deep night rest under my skin, and I know that makes no sense, but there it is.
His magic even has a sound. It’s a low melody, the faint notes just beyond my reach. It makes me feel the same breathless excitement I used to feel at Peel Academy when evening was coming and Des was coming with it.
We were once mates separated by worlds and magic; now we’re separated no longer, thanks to the lilac wine.
The wine came with other perks. I can now make my claws and scales and wings appear and disappear at will. And I can sense fae magic in a way I never could before.
Of course, there are drawbacks too—fairy gifts always have drawbacks.
I’m still coming for you. Your life is mine.
The Bargainer catches my wrist, examining my bare forearm.
“Three hundred and twenty-two favors—a lifetime’s worth,” he murmurs.
I follow his gaze. It’s weird looking down and not seeing the Bargainer’s bracelet. The skin there is paler than the rest, and I admit, my arm feels naked without the weight of all those black beads. I wore that bracelet every day for nearly eight years…and overnight it disappeared.
It was a lifetime’s worth of beads, but in the end, it was even more than that—it was a life’s worth. Those beads brought me back from the edge of death. And now I have to wonder if, from the very beginning, Des’s magic somehow knew it would come to this. If all that debt and all those years of waiting were its way of gathering magic so it could prevent my untimely death.
r /> Or maybe I just got really, really lucky.
I lower my wrist so I can look the Night King in the eye. “Anger aside—thank you.” My words come out rough.
Thank you is a pitifully small show of gratitude for what Des did. Because he saved me. Again.
For once I’d like to return the favor.
Des’s hand tightens around my forearm, and he brings my wrist to his lips, then presses a kiss there. “Does this mean you forgive me for the lilac wine?”
“Don’t push your luck, fairy boy.”
“Cherub, hasn’t anyone told you? I don’t need luck. I deal in favors.”
Chapter 2
That evening, I stand in what feels like a void, endless darkness pressing in on all sides. I glance about, unsure how I arrived there.
“Not a slave anymore, I see.”
My shoulders hike up at that voice.
That voice.
Last time I heard it, I was in the Flora Queen’s sacred oak forest, my life bleeding out of me. And now it’s at my back.
“We meet again, enchantress,” the Thief of Souls says.
The monster’s fingertips trail like velvet up my arm.
“Your wings are gone—” He leans forward and breathes me in. “And is that fae magic I smell? Could it be that the mighty Night King gave you the lilac wine?”
“Don’t act like you’re surprised,” I say.
The Thief had deliberately orchestrated a situation where I’d drink the wine and become fae, all so that his power could be compatible with mine. Before then, his magic didn’t work on me, just as it didn’t for all humans.
“What can I say?” he responds. “Fairies in love can be terribly predictable, I’m afraid.”
The Thief comes around to my front, and I finally get a good look at him.
He’s as I remember him from my dreams and that moment in the woods. Jet-black hair, upturned inky eyes, pouty mouth, alabaster skin.
Like all the other fairies I’ve met, he’s beautiful. Almost unbearably so. Not for the first time, I wish evil looked as it should.
I step away from his touch. The night shrouds us on all sides, but even in the darkness, I can make out the twisted oaks that surround me.
My stomach drops. I’m back in Mara Verdana’s sacred oak forest.
Could’ve sworn I’d left this place.
Off in the distance, I hear the faint notes of a fiddle and the snap and crackle of a bonfire. The smell of woodsmoke carries on the breeze. There’s something under the smell, a scent that’s somewhat sweet. If only I could place it…
The Thief of Souls walks over to a tree, and his boot scuffs a root. “This, I believe, is where you fucked the Night King.”
Bile rises into my throat.
Jesus. Had he watched us?
His gaze meets mine. “How do I know that?” He glances at the tree trunk again. The normally rough bark is coated in a slick substance. “I have eyes everywhere.”
As I watch, the Thief presses a hand to the glistening bark. Within seconds, whatever coats the tree trunk now spills onto the Thief’s hand, the dark rivulets snaking between his fingers and down his wrist.
And now I place that strange scent.
Blood.
It drips from the tree the Thief touches, and now it’s smeared across his hand.
He gives me a small smile, his eyes glinting in the darkness.
I hear the slow patter of rain. Only I’m not sure it’s rain dripping from the trees’ boughs.
As I watch, the oak in front of me starts to groan and tremble.
The Thief eyes me up and down. “Fae magic suits you well, enchantress. I confess I’m eager to see how it interacts with my own.”
Around me, the trees crack and splinter, making wet popping noises.
One by one, the trunks peel open like banana skins. Nestled inside each is a sleeping soldier, all of them still as death. Blood oozes down their skin and drips from their tattered clothes.
The oak next to the Thief ruptures, revealing a bronze-skinned fairy. The Thief touches the soldier’s cheek, and for an instant, his face morphs into that of the sleeping man. Then the illusion is gone, and the Thief is himself once more.
I shudder.
“I’ve been waiting a while for this day to come,” he says distractedly, still staring at the soldier. He drops his hand from the sleeping man and turns his full attention to me. “Tell me, enchantress, can you make a man—any man—fall in love with you? Not just enchant them for a time but truly conquer their hearts?”
My skin prickles.
The Thief leaves the soldier’s side, pacing toward me. Around us, the sound of wood splintering and blood dripping swells until I feel l might go mad.
All at once, the woods fall eerily silent.
Without warning, my siren flares to life, triggered by some pressing, unknown fear. My skin brightens, illuminating the Thief’s face in the dark night.
His eyes take on a fascinated sheen. “Yes,” he says, almost to himself, “I bet you could.” He closes the distance between us. “I do miss the days when I thought you a simple slave. Perhaps when you are mine, I’ll pretend you still are one.” He catches one of my wrists. “You’ll wear metal cuffs and a collar like the slaves of old. And then you’ll be my enslaved enchantress, and together we’ll see just how close you can come to making someone like me feel affection.”
He dares to threaten us? Never again will we fall under anyone’s yoke.
“I hope you can manage it,” he continues, “more for your sake than mine. I’m not known for being gentle with my playthings. Just ask Mara.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my claws sharpening, barely staying my siren’s violent tendencies. Then, all at once, I release my hold on her.
My free hand moves almost without me noticing it. I strike, swiping at his face. My claw tips tear open the skin of his cheek in four evenly spaced lines.
Almost immediately, blood begins to drip from the wounds.
The Thief looks amused.
I don’t get any warning before he throws me against the tree he’d been toeing only minutes before.
I let out an angry shout as I hit the bloody trunk, my chest pressed against the sleeping soldier, my eyes staring at the man’s bloody face. Behind me, the Thief pins me in.
“Normally, I like my women docile,” he whispers against my ear, “but you—you, I’ll enjoy fighting. Breaking.”
His words are decidedly sexual, and I remember all those female soldiers and the children he’d forced upon them.
I grit my teeth, my nails digging into the tree trunk.
Never, my siren vows. We will kill him first, and we will relish it.
I hear a moan on the wind, and the trees shiver, their leaves falling from the branches like tears.
In front of me, the soldier’s eyes snap open.
Oh shit.
The Thief leans into my ear again, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “Enjoy the carnage. I do hope you survive it…”
***
Screams rip me from sleep.
I jerk up in bed, wide awake in an instant, my breath coming in startled gasps.
Not in the queen’s oak forest. Not pinned to a rotting tree.
Not in the Thief’s clutches.
The dim lamps hanging above me illuminate the Bargainer’s Otherworld chambers.
I’m safe. For now.
The screams filter back through my awareness.
Then again…
Des stands at the foot of the bed, his talon-tipped wings spread, looking like one of hell’s angels as he stares at a point above my head. I follow his gaze, but there’s nothing there.
My eyes meet his as more shrieks vibrate through the bones of the castle. There’s something about the sound…like it’s one voice coming through many mouths.
I remember my dream, the soldier’s eyes opening. Something cold skitters up my spine.
There are no sleeping men here in the Night Kingdom, I try to reassure myself. And it’s true, there are no sleeping men here in Somnia. But a thousand feet beneath us, an army’s worth of women lie sleeping.
The screams seem to get louder.
At least, the women were sleeping.
I’m pretty goddamn sure they’re awake now.