House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(47)

Although I’m relieved she didn’t guess, the beats of my heart are each duller than the next. I turn away before she can spot the strange upheaval overtaking me.

As I plod into the closet separating the bathroom and the bedroom, I ask, “How do you say, dress?”

“Dréasich.”

“Dreesseh,” I repeat as I finger a coral-colored gown with a fitted bodice and a fluted satin skirt. Is it too much for a dinner with a group of rebels? I glance at the rest of the hangers. Except for one rather simple stone-gray frock, everything is over-the-top.

As I pull down the coral gown, then fish out some underwear, Eefah steps into the bedroom and slides the door closed, affording me privacy. I slip on the silk, grateful that Syb splurged on such exquisite undergarments, then hoist the dress up and contort my arms to reach all the hooks and eyes.

I’m suddenly struck with the memory of Lorcan helping me into the gown I wore in Tarespagia, of the ghostly fingers caressing my skin, and a new blush splashes my skin.

I need to get that man out of my head before my body can—once again—project itself toward his, or he’s going to start thinking I want to be with him when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How do you say shoes?” I call out.

“Bròg.”

“Brawg.”

I hear Eefah rifling around as I snare the last clasp. “I have pen and paper when ready. I think it help to see words written.”

I hoist up the strapless bodice that does wonderful things for my modest breasts, then select a pair of silver slippers—brawg.

I come out of the bathroom and head over to the little living area where Eefah has placed a paper, an inkwell, and a fountain pen. She’s traced two words on the paper—I assume the ones she’s just taught me even though they look nothing like the way I wrote them in my mind.

“How do you write my name?” I’m relieved to find that my first name is written like I’ve always written it, then shocked to discover that Bannock is spelled Báeinach. “And my father’s?”

I discover that Kahol is spelled Cathal, and that his brother, Keeann, is actually written Cian. I ask her to spell her name and am floored to see that it’s not written like it sounds. I ask her to write Lorcan’s name. Although his first name carries no accent, his last name is again full of letters that don’t fit with the way I’ve been pronouncing it.

“And Morrgot?”

She writes it down and I follow each curl and sweep of ink with raised eyebrows and bated breath.

I’ve never learned another tongue and find it thrilling. “Crow is not an easy language.”

“Né. It’s not.”

The minutes fritter into hours during which Aoife expands my limited Crow vocabulary, and I flesh out her basic knowledge of Lucin. I’m so engrossed by my lesson that I don’t hear my door creak open, but Aoife does. She’s out of her seat and standing, outlined in dark smoke before Giana has even stepped over the threshold.

The sight of Syb’s sister perforates my elation. Before she can even say hi, I ask, “How could you not tell me that Mamma and Nonna were in Shabbe, Gia? I came back for them.”

“You came back for yourself, Fallon.”

I don’t get up, but I push my chair back and cross my arms. “That’s unfair. And untrue.”

“Are you planning on helping in Rax? Because if you are, you’re going to have to shed the princess dress.”

“Your sister chose this dress.”

“My sister shouldn’t be here, either, Fallon. She’s not cut out for what Antoni and I are doing. At least Phoebus was sensible enough to stay back.”

“Phoebus came with me.”

“Where is he?”

“I sent him back because I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

She scrapes her hands down her face. Her nails are torn and her fingers streaked in gray dirt that she transfers down the sides of her angular face. “You should’ve sent yourself back.”

“Why are you being so hostile?”

“Because I care, Fal. I care about your life. I care about our fight. I care about making Luce a kingdom where everyone has access to everything. Where people are not forced to cut their hair. Where humans aren’t treated worse than swine. And where magic can be used without rules or regulations, no matter the shape of one’s ears.”

“I want the same thing.”

She sighs. “I know you do, but you being here, it paints an even larger target on our backs. The fleet of sprites swarming our front door has grown. The number of soldiers inspecting our boat and escorting us across the canals has doubled.”

She presses her lips together, stealing a glance at Aoife.

“Not to mention that now we have a Crow in our midst, and Crows aren’t allowed in Luce, save for Lorcan. If Aoife is discovered, who knows what fresh grievance they’ll hit us with.” She tosses a hand in the air. “Knowing Tavo, he’ll probably station guards inside our house, which would ruin everything.”

“Lore won’t let that happen.”

“Lore doesn’t rule all of Luce yet, dolcca.”

Bronwen’s newest prophecy echoes between my temples and raises goosebumps over my bare arms. It won’t come to that. “My pants will be dry by tomorrow.”