House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(100)

“Lorcan made me the owner of a bedroom not too far from here.”

“And how have his people been treating you?”

“With a mix of caution and kindness. More kindness than caution. And his mother has been teaching me to grow plants without magic.”

“Do you miss using your magic?”

“I do.” He raises his head. “But life without magic isn’t so terrible.”

I trail a perfect curl of steam until it disintegrates into mist. “That’s because you know you’ll get it back the second you leave this place.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I cannot believe Dante pretended Meriam was free.”

His comment jiggles the metaphorical knife the men in my life have planted inside my gut.

“I also cannot believe Lorcan hasn’t made the Faerie King sing. I wonder what he’s waiting for.”

The blade goes in deeper because, of course, Lorcan hasn’t shared that with me. I glide my palms over the silken surface of the water, hating my constant state of cluelessness.

“Lore is surely biding his time for a reas— Hi.” Phoebus grins so wide that I assume his Crow-heartthrob must’ve arrived.

I glance over my shoulder, a greeting at the ready, but my words wither, along with my nascent smile. Although a male of shifting faith stands behind me, that male is not Connor.





Forty-Nine





Lorcan’s gold stare pins me to the rock seat I’ve been propped on for the better part of the last hour. “Enjoying our amenities, Behach ?an?”

“I should, um . . .” Phoebus clears his throat. “Start getting ready. You know how long it takes me to do my hair.”

I blink away from Lorcan’s face, toward Phoebus who’s wading to the far side of the basin. “Do your hair? Seriously?” I hiss. “Wait.”

“No, no, you stay.” He’s already circling Lorcan, who’s blocking the narrow passageway.

I am absolutely not staying behind with a fully dressed monarch whose body is steaming just as profusely as the water pruning my skin.

As Phoebus climbs out, I hop to my feet, forgetting that the level is waist-deep, and that I am currently putting my breasts on display for all to see.

Not that there’s anyone looking.

Not that there’s anyone here.

Where is everyone?

Gone. Lorcan’s monosyllabic answer knells between my temples.

When I feel his eyes on my chest, I sink back down to my neck. I’m aware he’s already seen my breasts and that they’re really not something to write home about, but popping up in his bedroom naked and stripping in front of a few dozen strangers has apparently not rid me of my self-consciousness.

“You have a tub in your bathing chamber, Fallon.”

I bristle. “I was looking for Phoebus, and Phoebus wasn’t in my tub. I didn’t realize I needed a permission slip to use the public baths. You know, what with them being public and all.”

His outline wavers some more but not his scowl. His scowl remains unyielding and in perfect focus.

“Bad day at the office, Mórrgaht?”

He stretches his neck from side to side, eliciting cracks I hear over the slap of water. “I’ve had worse days.”

“Such a positive man.” My voice is as tight as a rubber band and snaps against the water and stone.

“I’m sorry I kept secrets from you, and I’m sorry I stayed away.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck that you stayed away.”

His eyebrows draw close. “Your tone says differently.”

I laugh a very ugly laugh. “Please.” I roll my eyes. “You were busy; I was busy. How’s Alyosha? All moved in?”

A half smile cocks up one corner of his mouth, and it makes me want to stab him in the eye. In both eyes.

“Good thing we meet in the Baths, then. Fewer chances of me being staked.”

Gods, how I hate that he walks so freely into my mind. “What makes you think I don’t have the weapon hidden on my person?”

His eyes dip to my body that the muggy, dark air is hopefully blurring. “I’d imagine, depending on the blade’s sharpness, that carrying it on your person would be rather uncomfortable.”

A blush seizes my cheeks because I’m fully aware Lore isn’t hinting at it being strapped to my thigh.

His eyes shimmer at my discomfiture.

Tàin.

That half smile of his grows brighter. “You’ve been enhancing your vocabulary, I see.” One vambrace drops to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m in dire need of a bath.”

As the second vambrace hits the floor, I toss his words back at him. “You have a tub in your room. Use it.”

He’s already unstrapped his armor and is gliding it over his head. “I haven’t bathed here in centuries.”

When his fingers clasp the hem of his skin-tight black shirt, I whip my gaze to the stone lip of the basin and scuttle toward it. “Hold your crows. I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

I gape at him. “Because, Lore.”

“Because . . .?” He draws the shirt up slowly, revealing his ladder of abdominal muscles peppered by scars.