House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(33)

“Serpent!” she hisses.

The entire row of humans seated near the bulwark scramble away from the side of the boat, treacherously rocking the vessel.

How deep the Fae have drilled into humans the fear of what lurks inside our ocean.

A tusk rises from the water, followed by obsidian eyes set in a head that appears almost equine in shape. When the first band of white flesh appears on the creature’s neck, I gasp and tear myself from Phoebus.

Even though Dante publicly nicknamed me Serpent-charmer, I’ve always hidden my affection for serpents. Now that my origins are known, I no longer need to. I am free to give my heart to whatever beast I desire.

The momentary displeasure that washed over me from being back in a realm of antiquated laws floods right out as I race across the dock and sink onto my knees, arm outstretched, fingers at the ready to stroke the beautiful creature I’ve missed so deeply.

Minimus’s body ribbons toward me, his black eyes never leaving mine. Fresh tears mix with the rain on my cheeks when my skin makes contact with my serpent’s slick scales. He presses his face into my hand, and I don’t care that brown goop slops down his cheek.

I don’t care that a regiment of sprites and a boatload of humans are witnessing my reunion.

I don’t care—

“So it’s true. Fallon Rossi has dared return.”

I whip my gaze off Minimus, who must sense the tremor Tavo’s voice causes in me, because his head whirls and his forked black tongue unspools with a resonating hiss.

Tavo, who stands near the prow of a varnished military gondola, gloves his hand in flames.

“Stop!” I yell. “Don’t attack him.”

“If he lashes out first—”

“He won’t.” I stroke my hand down Minimus’s feather-soft dorsal fins, attempting to calm him. “I swear he won’t. Please put your magic away, Tavo.”

“It’s General Diotto now.” Although he lowers his palms, fire still skips along his skin.

I hate that Dante gave this man so much power, even though it could’ve been worse . . . he could’ve made Dargento his new general. After I take in the gilded burgundy jacket that used to grace my grandfather’s torso, I cluck my tongue to gather my serpent’s attention.

Bracketing his large head between my palms, I whisper, “Go.”

Minimus blinks.

I nod to the ocean. “Go.”

He chuffs like Furia, as though annoyed by my demand. I’m about to drive his body low with the press of my palm when he sinks like coiled rope beneath the brown surf and vanishes in a flourish of foaming fuchsia.

Goodbye, my darling creature.

I stand just as the ferry docks, bumping into the pier.

“Storm’s going to end up flooding me boat,” the spikey-eared, gray-eyed boat captain grouses as he blows water out of the hull.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Tavo makes the word pleasure sound like anything but.

“I’m not visiting, dear General. I’ve come home to stay.”

The fire has finally gone out of his fingers. “Hmm. So many of you are coming home . . .” His amber eyes seem to glow redder as he strokes the day-old stubble lining his chin. “Since you come in peace, don’t mind the guards that I’ve enlisted to keep you safe.”

Even if he hadn’t drawn out that last word, I’m fully aware the man is completely unconcerned with my safety. “How long will I need to be kept safe?”

“For as long as you’re here.”

“Forever, then?” My voice drips with honey.

His lips flip up into a cruel smile. “Until the day you die it will be, then.”

Is it me, or is Tavo picturing sending me into an early grave?





Seventeen





Tavo insists on escorting Phoebus and me across the canal.

I’m hesitant to get into the military gondola, afraid Dante’s new general plans on sailing us past Tarelexo and straight into an Isolacuorin dungeon, but I climb aboard. Although the ship is manned by both a water-Fae and an air-Fae, the boat ride is a rocky one.

“You should sit.” Phoebus grips my wrist, refusing to touch my fingers even though the unrelenting rain has washed them clean of Racoccin grime.

“We’re almost there.” I keep my gaze on the purple awning undulating like Minimus’s dorsal fin and the black lettering that reads Bottom of the Jug.

I can already hear the raucous chatter and bawdy laughter. I can already smell the rich aromas of Marcello’s and Defne’s cooking and picture the doxies strutting around in their racy getups. The words I plan to have with Giana fizz along my tongue, impatient to leap out.

I know that her intent was to protect me, but couldn’t she have told me where Nonna and Mamma were? Why hadn’t I insisted on knowing their location? Because I’d been so concentrated on loathing Lorcan?

When we dock, I tear my wrist out of Phoebus’s hold and leap off the boat, then march across the slick cobbles toward the tavern entrance and fling the door wide.

The noise, which wasn’t loud to begin with seeing as only four tables are occupied, dies out completely.

I count nine customers.

Nine customers at lunch time is unheard of. Is a revel underway in some other part of the kingdom? Maybe one to celebrate Dante’s nuptials?