Page 149

Story: Dark Harmony

Mara’s gaze falls to me. Even her eyes, which were once so strikingly green, have now lost their luster.

If she’s surprised or offended to see me—a human—sitting on a fae throne, she doesn’t show it.

“I came as soon as I heard the news about Desmond,” she says.

I frown at her, my claws pricking into the velvet armrests.

Word gets around fast.

One of the side doors opens, and a Night soldier escorts Temper into the throne room, depositing her a few yards away from me. When she glances at me, her brows pinch together with concern. Then her gaze sweeps to Mara.

She whistles. “Never thought I’d seeyouagain.” Temper eyes Mara up and down. “You look like you tried meth one too many times.”

Mara ignores Temper, and instead she struggles to stand. I rise from the throne.

She puts a hand out. “I’m fine.”

It takes the Flora Queen an agonizing minute to get to her feet. Once she does, her eyes flick around the room, and her gaze still has that razor sharpness that I remember. Eventually her attention moves to me.

“A moment alone?” she says.

I raise my eyebrows. “One of the last times you and I shared space, you had me whipped within an inch of my life—”

Around me some of the Night fae hiss. The sound constricts my heart. They’re defensive of me. I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t expected their acceptance at all.

“I believe, when it comes to discussing the fates of our mates,” Mara says smoothly, “you’d prefer a little discretion.”

My eyes narrow on her. I’ll give it to the Flora Queen, she has some brass balls, parading in here like some kind of rock star then demanding a private meeting.

I glance over at Temper, who’s empathically shaking her head and mouthing, “Not today, Satan.”

My eyes drift back to Mara, who looks exhausted but patient. She understands what I’m feeling. Right now, she might be theonlyone who understands.

Staring at her a moment longer, I finally nod. “Could you please give us a moment alone?” I ask the room.

In response, it empties. Temper glowers on her way out, muttering about how useless it was for me to drag her here if I wasn’t going to listen to her advice.

The last fairy leaves, and the doors bang closed, the sound reverberating along the walls.

I stare down at Mara.

Is this what I’m going to become? A shell of myself?

I get up and drag a nearby chair over to the velvet one Mara entered in.

“Show’s over,” I say, gesturing to her elaborate chair. “You can sit.”

She moves over to it and all but collapses into the seat, wheezing a little.

“I know he killed your mate,” she begins.

I don’t need to ask who she’s talking about.

She runs her index finger over the arm rest. “I first turned to other men ten years ago. I can remember the exact day.”

This is … not how I imagined the conversation going.

Mara continues, “I looked at the Green Man and suddenly, he didn’t pull me in the way he once did. In fact, if I’m being perfectly honest, I’d say I wasrepulsedby him, though seemingly nothing had changed.

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