House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(123)

“Salt no longer affects your king,” Lore says as Phoebus drags a chair between mine and Syb’s.

The apple in Gabriele’s throat rolls. “I’m not Dante.”

“So you have not been ingesting the same poison he has?”

“What poison?”

Lore leans forward, his chair creaking like his leather armor. “You are his commander, are you not?”

“I don’t see—”

“My commanders know all I do.”

Gabriele’s lips squeeze. “Dante and I’ve had some disagreements as of late. In case you’ve failed to hear, he’s been thinking of reinstating Dargento.”

“We’ve heard.” Lore loses his solid edges, and his shadows coil around me as though to protect me from the vile man. “Where is that pointy-eared louse anyway?”

“With Dante.”

“Where?”

“I wasn’t told where. I was only told that Tavo and I needed to remain in Isolacuori to protect it during the king’s absence.”

“He must trust you and Tavo immensely considering the influx of Nebban soldiers.”

Gabriele’s cheeks hollow as though he’s bitten into something sour. “They were brought in to keep his betrothed safe.”

I snort, which garners me quite a few stares.

My father tilts his head to the side. “What is it, ínon?”

“Roy does not care a lick for his daughter. He probably stationed them there to keep a foothold in Luce.”

Gabriele startles. “Fallon?”

“Hi, Gabriele.”

“You’re alive?”

“You did just hear me speak.”

“I forgot to mention”—Syb leans past Phoebus to look at me—“Lucins think you perished. We knew you hadn’t, thanks to Imogen.” She scans the table until her gaze lands on Aoife who sits beside Arin, stiff-backed, stiff-necked, stiff-jawed.

“Does Dante believe me dead?” I ask to steer the attention away from her missing sister.

“He’s the one who made the announcement,” Gabriele says. “He’s warned everyone that the Crows will come to retaliate, and that was why Roy was lending us his troops.”

“Why do you think my nephew went into hiding, Fallon?” Bronwen asks as she pads into the Market Tavern. “He may not have given the order to kill you, but your alleged death happened in his part of the realm.”

My father stands and goes to her side. Although she may not ask for help, or want it most of the time, she accepts his proffered arm. After she’s seated in front of Mattia, Cathal returns to his own chair.

“Nephew?” The line of Gabriele’s shoulders is as sharp as the tips of his ears that poke out from the blindfold. “Dante is related to your kind?”

“Through wedlock,” Lore replies.

“Are you one of his mother’s sisters?”

“I was Andrea’s older sister, actually. Half-sister.”

Gabriele sucks in a breath, then releases it along with the name, “Aurora? I thought—I thought she’d perished in her father’s flames.”

“Aurora perished in her father’s flames; I walked out of her ashes.”

“Does Dante know you live?”

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way. I may have been Costa’s bastard daughter, but I was still his daughter. Cauldron forbid Dante believes me desirous of a throne that does not even belong to him.”

“I will keep your secret.”

“I know you will. I’ve foreseen your fate.”

Gabriele goes as pale as Bronwen’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Bronwen has flashes of the future.” Lorcan does not add that her soothsaying was granted by the Shabbins.

“What have you foreseen?” Gabriele’s voice is full of nerves.

“Luce falling to the rightful king.” Bronwen’s gaze drapes over Lorcan before shifting toward me.

Our eyes hold, and although Bronwen cannot speak into my mind, I hear the thoughts huddled behind the waxy skin of her forehead: Lore’s future hinges on me, the magicless girl who helped an unworthy man seize a throne that wasn’t his to take.

I sit up straighter. “Bronwen, can you see where Dante is hiding?”

If she could, Behach ?an—Lore’s smoke coils around my clenched fingers, as slippery and cold as Minimus’s scales—she would not tell you, for she and I struck a little bargain this morning.

Lore . . .

Have I put a wrench in your plans, my love?

I know it comes from a noble sentiment, but yes, my mate’s protectiveness does throw an immense wrench in my plans. What if that’s the only way to get you on the throne?

His shadows hem back into a hand, one that pries my fist wide to slot his long fingers through. I’d rather live another thousand years without a throne than a day without my mate.

“They can talk to each other, can’t they?” I hear Syb whisper to Phoebus, who must nod, because she hisses, “I knew it! I fucking knew it.”

“What does the future hold for me, Bronwen?” Gabriele asks.

“Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

“Tell me.”

“Very well.” She sighs. “You will perish before the next full moon.”