House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(37)

He must sense the direction of my thoughts because he stabs the blade back into his baldric and keeps his palm glued to the hilt. “Don’t think for a second I’d hesitate to toss you in as well, Fallon.”

I raise a harsh smile. “Are you really threatening me with a swim in Mareluce?”

He returns an even harsher one. “I hear corpses sink, not swim.”

Shall we find out? Smoke coalesces between the remaining puffs of clouds, ridding me of my smile.

Lore, no! If he kills Tavo, war will break out and lives will be lost on all sides.

Dante’s friend cranes his neck and yells at his men to arm themselves with obsidian.

Go. Please, Lore. You’ll only make this worse. Please.

The canal begins to churn and bubble, multihued scales slashing the water.

Suddenly, the warmth of Phoebus’s palm vanishes, and he gasps.

I spin to find a soldier holding a steel blade at his throat.

Not just any soldier, though.

Black-haired, tawny-eyed Commander Dargento. “Call off your pets or your little friend perishes, Signorina Rossi.”





Nineteen





Cold sweat drips down the runnel of my spine and Mamma’s stone slips from my fingers. “Stop! Everyone, lay down your weapons! STOP!”

The black smoke splits into five puffs. If I had any doubt that Lorcan was present, they’re gone, for only the Crow King can divide himself into five different entities. Where two of his crows remain poised over Tavo’s gondola, the other three carve the air toward me, swirling around my chest, neck, and head, all the weakest spots on my body.

“Release Acolti, Silvius!” The voice that fills the air is one I haven’t heard in days, and although it no longer strums my veins, it snips the pressure squeezing my lungs.

“Dante,” I gasp as Lorcan’s cool smoke keeps stretching frenziedly over my skin.

My former champion stands astride another military vessel that shines like a jewel against the murky-blue canal. The sunray crown shimmers atop his brown box braids that lift from the speed the air-Fae surrounding him are using to propel his ship toward us.

“You heard your king,” Tavo barks. “Release the pureling, Dargento.”

The commander’s nostrils flare out twice before he shoves Phoebus forward so hard, my friend loses his footing and flails forward. His face goes as white as spilled milk as his body tips over the embankment.

I stride forward to jump in after him, but Lorcan’s crows hold me back.

“Let me go, Lore,” I growl.

Suddenly, as though someone is reversing time, Phoebus’s body lifts. It’s only when I see the giant bird pinned beneath his torso, levering him back onto solid ground, that I stop fighting Lorcan’s hold and allow my heart to squeeze back down my throat and into its original cavity.

The second Lorcan’s clinch slackens and the Crow that saved Phoebus soars high, I snap forward and fling my arms around my friend’s neck, dragging his big, trembling body down to mine. He’s crying, great, racking sobs that paint the whites of his eyes red.

In that moment, I do something I never imagined myself capable of—something I loathed Lorcan for when he did it to me—I take the decision to stay in Luce out of his hands. Take him back. I cannot lose him. I cannot— My mind’s voice splinters.

Connor will carry him home, Behach ?an. Lorcan must pour the command into his fellow Crow’s mind because the mammoth bird who saved Phoebus from a dip in the ocean swoops low.

Before Phoebus is snatched away from me for Cauldron only knows how long, I cup his wet cheeks and kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

He jerks his head free from my palms. “You’re leaving?”

“No, Pheebs, you are.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Fallon—”

But it’s too late. Connor hooks gleaming talons around Phoebus’s belt and lifts him.

“Fallon! How could you?” he yells. “How could you?!” His body shrinks, becoming no larger than the yellow balloon Nonna gifted me on one of my birthdays and which slipped from my cake-speckled fingers on our way home from the tavern where the Amaris had treated me to a frosted concoction, ablaze with rainbow candles.

Your turn.

I lower my head and lids. “Not yet. I have to find Syb and the others.” I keep my grandmother’s name out of my thoughts. I cannot let him see my true intent, or he will whisk me back to his castle and toss away the key.

His citrine eyes gleam as his insubstantial form gains substance.

When the dark cloud of a man coalesces into one made of flesh, I hiss, “Shift back. You’re a sitting duck.”

“Crow, actually. Not the same genus.”

I gape at him. “I really don’t think now’s the time to debate avian species.”

A small smile slides onto his mouth as he turns toward Dante. “Good afternoon, Regio. Apologies for dropping by unannounced. With a Crow sentry, no less. I didn’t think I’d have to intervene, but your men are decidedly lousy listeners.”

An abrasive guffaw escapes through Tavo’s parted lips. “The gall of the—”

“Tavo, please head back to the castle.” Dante’s ship doesn’t wade closer. Because he fears the male standing beside me, or is it the zigzagging serpents that make him keep his distance?