House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(120)

“You’ve traveled there?”

“I have. Many times.”

I’d love to ask him to fly me around the isle, but I’m afraid he may try to pitch me through the wards. I decide to ask Lore. Surely, he’ll accept and won’t try to toss me onto the pink isle.

“It’s one of the most beautiful places on our Earth.”

“Where do people live? It seems like such a small island.”

A smile touches my father’s lips. “It’s an illusion cast by the Cauldron. Once you penetrate the sandstone walls, the queendom unfurls, as wide and long as Luce, and as lush as Tarespagia.”

My jaw must’ve come unhinged because my father blinks at me. “Were you not aware of this?”

“No.”

“I suppose you’ve never met a Shabbin, and the few Faeries who’ve traveled there in recent years haven’t journeyed back. I’m surprised that Lore hasn’t told you about your mother’s homeland, though.”

“We weren’t on the best of terms until . . . well, until yesterday.” My cheeks warm.

My father sighs. “Your mother once jested that you’d be more than his curse-breaker. I was not a fan of that joke.”

I cannot stifle my smile, which is mostly due to the twin red slashes rising beneath my father’s black makeup. “My mother sounds like an outspoken woman. I cannot wait to meet her.”

The glow recedes from his cheeks and eyes, and he suddenly seems so lost that I reach out and clasp his bruised hands.

“Which will be soon, Dádhi.”

He stares at my face, and although the sorrow doesn’t instantly recede from his features, the corners of his mouth lift a fraction. He nods before steering the conversation off Daya and onto my upbringing. He wants to know all about Nonna and Mamma. All about my schooling and friendships.

So I tell him everything. I focus on the happy moments because, each time I mention a grievance, however trivial it may be, his mood takes a turn for the worse.

Our food comes and goes, and with it, the morning. And still I talk. I’m apparently full of stories.

“Just like your mother,” he says with a smile. “She always had a story to—”

His mouth snaps shut, and his eyes glaze over. I think the memory must be too difficult to voice, but then he stands abruptly, and I realize Lore must’ve spoken to him.

My heart climbs into my throat just as fast as my father shot off the stone bench. “What is it?”

His deep-brown gaze grabs my wide violet one. “Your friends have arrived . . . and they haven’t come alone.”





Fifty-Eight





“My friends? Which ones? Is it Syb? Did they find Antoni?” My father doesn’t answer me because he’s already shifted into his Crow.

The second he extends his wing, I swing myself atop him. He takes off and flies so fast that I realize the pace he’d set on the way here was one of extreme leisure. When we reach the Market Tavern, he plummets and lands beside a stall that roasts headless animals on spits. The smell and sight turn my already spasming stomach.

I vault off his back and give the rotisserie stall a wide berth. Once the aroma of barbecued flesh stops punching up my nose, I stand still and wait for my father to shift, but instead, he soars and shoots up into the sky through the wide landing hatch that bathes the market in light.

I grind my jaw, stopping myself from calling him back, electing to stay patient. If my friends are here, they’ll soon be carried inside. If only there was a window I could peer through, though.

I scan the market walls, my eyes adjusting to the darker parts until I find tiny squares of light. Teeth clenched from the sheer pain of moving, I walk to one side, but all I see is jungle. Ugh.

Although awash with adrenaline, my legs are incapable of speed, so I hobble to the opposite side of the tavern. When I finally reach the window, I lean my forehead against the cold glass in order to peer as far down as possible.

“?lo, Fallon.” Arin’s voice makes me jump and knock my head into the window. “Dalich.”

Daleh is a word I’m familiar with thanks to Aoife. “You’ve nothing to feel sorry about.” I smile as I rub the tender spot.

Her eyes are soft on my face. “I glad you back.”

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” Although I’ve only spent a few hours with this woman, I somehow feel like I know her. I wonder if it’s a side effect of being mated to her son. Does that automatically create ties between the other family members? “Learning Lucin, I see.”

“Phoebus teach me. He good teach.”

Phoebus! I forgot to bring him breakfast. I wonder if he’s awake. I glance around the Market Tavern, even though the odds of him having trekked all the way here are slim to none.

“I sorry about friends, Fallon.”

My fingers freeze on my forehead, and I whirl back toward the window, eyes wide with alarm and dread. I can just glimpse the rump of two horses and the convoy of dark birds gliding through the azure. The crows are all monstrous, save for two with golden eyes.

Lore promised Bronwen to stay put, yet two of his crows are out in the open! I don’t realize I’m trembling until I feel a comforting palm breeze across my forearm.

“Can you hear”—my lungs are so tight that I wheeze—“what they’re saying?”