House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(31)

“Do you know who I am?” Phoebus yells at them.

“A traitor,” a sprite hisses.

Phoebus shoves his blond hair aside to show his ears. “I’m Phoebus Acolti. So let us through before I bat you out of our way with a cypress branch and have you expelled from the army.”

“You’ve got no authority here, pureling.”

“King Dante says”—a sprite pants, flushed cheeks puffing out from his rapid flight—“that Fallon Rossi is not”—another rough breath—“to be harmed. And we are—to give her—safe passage—to wherever she desires to go.”

My pulse hastens with gratitude, but also with relief that a few days in power have not turned my former flame into an unpredictable despot.

“Come home, Fallon. Please.” Eefah sounds on the brink of a meltdown.

I clasp her arm. “I’ve got to find my mother and grandmother first.” I don’t mention which ones. If I’m lucky, I’ll find both sets.

Her dark eyes flash before glazing over like slick marble. “Guhlaèr.”

“Guhlair?” Although Phoebus’s body is still tense, he turns to face us.

“It means okay.” Eefah’s lids swoop down, whisking off the veneer of her daze. “Lorcan says okay to let you go into Fae land.”

I raise my gaze to the sky, surprised the Crow King is listening since I pictured him otherwise engaged. “It’s not his choice.” I wait for a retort but no words drum between my temples. “Is he near?”

Without meeting my stare, Eefah says, “No.”

Lies have no taste and yet, her breath smacks of deceit.

Without gazing upward, I murmur through the bond: You promised not to follow.

Silence.

If you can hear me, Lore—which I imagine you can—please stay away from Luce. You heard the sprites say they’ve been granted permission to use obsidian. Every Lucin has probably been armed with it.

The air churns as Eefah shifts into her beast.

Before she takes off, I say, “Shehveha for the ride, and for your kindness.”

She nods her round head before snapping her wings and vanishing skyward, iron talons glinting in the veiled sunlight. Connor follows suit, vanishing after Eefah past the leafy canopy.

Wings beating as briskly as their pulse, the sprites watch them ascend but don’t follow.

“Crafty demons,” one mutters.

I aim a glower his way. “Crows are more civilized than most of the Fae I know.”

Phoebus spears his fingers through mine and tugs me against his side. “Although I’m not opposed to heading back to the Sky Kingdom immediately, I advise you not to engage if you care to see Syb and find Ceres and Agrippina.”

“You won’t be finding the Rossi women,” Gold-buttons proclaims, his words holding my lungs in a vise.

“Why not?” The words come out strangled.

The buttons on his white jacket gleam like Lore’s eyes. “Because they’re gone, Serpent-girl.”

“Gone where?” Phoebus asks, because I’m breathing too chaotically to fashion words.

“Rumor has it they sailed to Shabbe to escape the shame you brought upon your family.”

My heart thumps at the memory of Lorcan telling me Bronwen and Giana had gotten Nonna and Mamma away to safety. Did he mean Shabbe?

I wrench my head back and glower at the pewter air. They were brought to Shabbe?

Silence.

Answer me, godsdamnit. Tears sit heavy on my lashes. Answer me!

I told you they were safe.

The tears escape and mingle with the raindrops. In Shabbe, Lore. My voice cracks like my heart.

It was the safest place for them.

Perhaps, but all my hopes and dreams of reuniting with them, of hugging them, of explaining why I left and brought back the Crow King . . . all of them pop like soap bubbles. Did they at least know where they were being taken?

“Why’s the girl looking at the sky?” one of the sprites exclaims.

“The Crows must’ve stayed. Go check the trees!” Gold-buttons commands. “NOW!”

His entire squadron jolts like a spooked shoal of fish.

“Fucking now, soldati!”

Four sprites crawl higher, complexions as milky-gray as Montelucin stone.

Phoebus squeezes my hand. “Fal, what do you want to do?”

I scrub away the tears. “Right now, I want to yell at Gia and then I want set sail toward Shabbe.”

Thunder growls, then peals through the sky in time with forks of lightning.

You set sail for Shabbe and I will personally see that you’re returned to my home where you’ll stay until the wards collapse.

I gnash my molars at Lore’s threat. I will never go back to your home. Never. I hate your nest and I hate you.

A laugh that raises the waterlogged fine hairs on my arms echoes through the bond. Go see what’s become of your home before you decree my nest so terrible.





Sixteen





Phoebus keeps my hand tucked in his as we trudge across the soggy marshlands, the haze of white sprites pressing around us, thinning the already stifling air. Although he tries to get me to make conversation, my anger and disappointment take up too much space to allow my mind to latch on to any topic.