House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(107)

“Killed?” I blink at Phoebus.

But it’s the light-haired Crow who answers, “We leath’cinn aren’t immortal. Well, those of us with a human parent.”

I take it that lehken means half-Crow. I also take it that Reid is not including me in the those with a human parent group.

He sets the chair down for Phoebus, then lingers beside our table, hands on his narrow hips. “You were not aware, daughter of Cathal and Zendaya?”

“Fallon. Daughter of Cathal and Zendaya is a bit of a mouthful. And no, I was not aware. What about the progeny of Faeries and Crows? Are they immortal?”

Phoebus sighs, scooting himself under the tiny table. “Faeries and Crows cannot conceive children. Conflicting blood. Crows have too much iron, and iron poisons Fae.”

My mouth parts. Gods, I know nothing.

Right as Connor’s son begins to turn away, I call him back, “Reid, right?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for keeping my friend company.”

Pink streaks across Phoebus’s cheekbones. “You make me sound like some abject runt.”

Not my intent.

“Your friend has many interesting stories.” Reid’s jaw isn’t as square as his father’s, and his skin, a much lighter shade of brown, like his hair, and yet there is a lot of Connor in that face.

“I’m certain you must have plenty of your own.”

“Not yet.” A tepid smile slides across his mouth. “But hopefully I will get to make more stories this time around. If our king can keep himself in one piece, that is.” He reaches for something behind the bar—an extra plate and goblet. “A feat when one’s curse-breaker favors the Fae lands.”

My spine stiffens at his quietly delivered affront. I’m tempted to engage, but Phoebus clasps my knee under the table and gives his head a little shake.

Reid backs away. “I’ll go fetch you some food.”

“No meat or fish,” Phoebus instructs. “And not too much salt, or I’ll be spilling way too many secrets again.”

Reid nods before finally turning away.

“I do not favor the Fae lands,” I mutter once it’s only the two of us.

Phoebus cocks his head to the side.

“I don’t, Pheebs. I only went there to find Meriam.”

“A task you could’ve left for immortals to oversee.”

“I assumed, when I left here, that my grandmother was on the run and that she’d run straight for me.”

“Picolina, if she’d been on the run and had run straight for you, what makes you think she wouldn’t have run you through?”

“If she’d wanted me dead, she would’ve killed me already. She wouldn’t have stopped at binding my magic.”

“Unless she couldn’t kill you at the time.”

I frown. “The woman created a magical barrier with her blood, Pheebs. She kidnapped my mother. Her own daughter.” I don’t tell him about Gabriele’s belief that Meriam would’ve killed Zendaya. I’m afraid that speaking it aloud will somehow make it true. “Do you really think that someone as powerful and twisted as she is would have the least bit of trouble murdering another?”

Phoebus’s eyes are glazed in thought. “I meant that maybe she struck a bargain or something that kept her from killing you.”

“With who?”

“Marco?” He shrugs. “Who knows?”

I blink at my friend.

“I’m just thinking out loud. Maybe no bargain was struck.”

“If Meriam struck a bargain with Marco,” says a gruff voice, “it’ll have expired.”

The apple in Phoebus’s throat climbs as high as my pulse as I spin in my chair to face the man I haven’t seen in two weeks.

“You left the Sky Kingdom, ínon?” My father’s growl flutters my lashes.

“I, um, will—” Phoebus vaults out of his chair. “See what’s taking our food so long.”

I allow Phoebus to escape, since that’s clearly his intent.

“I’m going to kill Lore.” My father says through barely separated teeth.

I’m about to spring out of my seat to latch onto my father’s arm before he can go hunt Lorcan down when black shadows congeal between us and firm into a man-shaped shield.

“A feat many have failed at, Cathal,” I hear Lore quip beneath his breath.

My father’s large fingers close around the Sky King’s neck and flex. “I trusted you and you let her leave the Sky Kingdom?!”

“And she’s returned.” I’m honestly not sure how Lore is keeping his cool. “Now unhand me before I break your nose, for what, the fourth time?”

My eyes go as bulbous as my father’s. You’ve broken his nose three times?

All in good fun.

You’ve a strange definition of fun . . . Before any bone-breaking can occur, I speak up. “I forced Lore to let me go, Dádhi.”

My father glances over Lore’s broad, fuming shoulder at me. His hand drops, not because he’s released Lorcan but because the Crow King has dissolved into black vapors that knit back in the very same place a moment later.

As Cathal’s heavy arm flops back along his side, the buckles on his vanguards clink against his chest plate.