House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(19)

Soon night will drape across the Sky Kingdom. A night I may have to spend curled in some hallway because I don’t think I’ll make it back. My feet are killing me. Of course, I refuse to admit this to Phoebus, who keeps eyeing them and pointing out all the comfortable shoes I could’ve been wearing.

By kilometer fourteen, I threatened that if he didn’t stop spotlighting my silliness, I’d tell Lorcan that my friend was lining up suitors for me. For all his ensuing eye rolls, Phoebus has palmed his jewels more than once since I dropped my menace.

“Fallon?” The woman pronounces my name like all the other Crows, twisting it into a foreign word that sounds like a brook tripping over smooth rock. She nods to another section of the oddly shaped cavern and gestures for me to follow.

And I do. I may have felt many emotions when I was brought up here against my will, but chariness toward these people has never been one of them.

At the foot of one of the trellises, her outline blurs into a cloud of black. I take a tiny step back as she transforms into her other self. Although large, I’ve noted the females aren’t quite as big as males, and no male is as imposing as Lorcan.

She swoops upward, her black feathers glimmering sapphire as she nears the opened hatch.

“What do you think she’s trying to show you?” Phoebus’s breath catches in my hair.

“I’m not sure.”

She flies to the very top of a wall, her wings beating like a hummingbird’s as she levels off and snatches something with her iron beak. My heart misses a beat when I spot the slender branch dotted with pink berries—benfrol.

Did she fetch them because of how excited I became when she mentioned them?

The woman doesn’t land. Instead, she puffs into smoke that coalesces into her two-legged shape. With a smile that presses slender wrinkles around her mouth, she removes the branch from between her human teeth and tenders it.

I return her smile. “Thank you . . .” As I take her offering, I point to her. She frowns, so I point to myself and say, “Fallon,” then point to her again.

She touches the base of her neck and says, “Arin.”

“Thank you, Arin.”

She smiles, dark gaze flitting over my features, studying them.

I twist a berry off the stem and pop it into my mouth, and Great Cauldron, it’s just as I remember—syrupy with the slightest tang.

Phoebus grabs a pink pod, sniffs it, then tosses it inside his mouth. When he moans and reaches for more, I skip away from him and hurry to fill my mouth with as many as I can pack. It’s silly and childish, and if my cheeks weren’t so full, I’d melt into a puddle of laughter.

He grabs me around the waist and tickles me until I concede the almost-bare branch. “Dear Gods, how old are you, Fallon?”

In between bursts of laughter, I lick the sweet berry juice off my lips. “It’s all the walking,” I say, barely able to keep a straight face. I swipe what feels like pink drool off my chin then plop my finger into my mouth.

“That’s bringing out your animal nature?”

The mention of my Crow nature smothers my delight.

Phoebus heaves a sigh and presents me with the last berry as a peace offering. “Here. Take this magical fruit and giggle again.”

I cross my arms. “It’s just fruit. Plus, I’m all out of giggles.”

“A shame. It was such a lovely sound.” The deep voice spurs my heart, hastening its beats.

“?lo, Mórrgaht.” My sycophantic friend sketches a bow.

“So you’ve uncovered my favorite spot in the kingdom.” Lorcan glides out from someplace behind me.

“How funny.” Phoebus sweeps the branch he holds like a magic wand toward the trellises dripping with fruits and vegetables. “It appears to be Fallon’s favorite, too.”

I sear him with a glare that makes him wink. “My favorite place is my home in Luce.”

Lorcan looses an exaggerated sigh. “Because my kingdom is such a drab penitentiary.”

Phoebus swings the branch in my direction. “The stubborn streak is quite strong in this one.”

Where Lore affords him a pleasant smile, I grumble, “Should’ve shipped you back and kept Syb.”

Phoebus mimics his heart being broken, or whatever smooshing both palms over his chest and moaning like a sow in heat is supposed to mean. “I’m going to see if I can get your wonderful gardener to pick us some more delicious fruit.”

He plods across the airy space toward Arin who smiles before shifting and flying back up to fetch him another branch.

Lorcan links his hands behind his back, making his broad chest jut out. “So, how was your adventure?”

“I doubt you’re here to gather my opinion on your home, so get to the point.”

“You’re right.” One of his eyes narrows a little. “I’m actually here to visit my mother.”

I was, quite possibly, less shocked the day I learned Lore could transform into a man. “You have a mother?”

“Did you think I hatched from a cabbage?”

“No—I—” When a smile threatens the edges of his mouth, I mutter, “I know how babies are made, Lore. I know they don’t sprout in produce.”

“How fortunate for your future mate.”

A blush steals across my cheeks. “We call them husbands where I come from. And yes, I suppose he’ll be extraordinarily pleased when I spread my legs instead of hand him a trowel and a packet of seeds.”