House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(51)

It isn’t blood.

I cannot believe you licked my hand. My cheeks heat like the desert under the Lucin sun. Was that necessary?

He finally releases my hand. Yes.

Why?

Behind him, the air darkens, and then those shadows take the shape of two men and one woman. I recognize the woman—Imogen—but not the men. Of course the Sky King didn’t come alone. He may be the most lethal man in Luce—in the world—but he’s a monarch.

They’re here for you, not for me. He says this without looking at me.

As he finally takes his seat at the dining table, Antoni surveys the three Crows poised behind their King. “What are you playing at, Lorcan? Bringing so many of your people will give Dante fodder—”

“Circumstances have changed.” Lorcan unfolds his napkin and sets it on his lap.

“The circumstances being Fallon living here?” Reproach edges Gia’s tone.

“No.” Lorcan’s golden gaze latches onto mine again. “The circumstances being that Meriam escaped the Regio’s dungeon.”

The news ices my overheated blood. Escaped . . . “When?”

“No one knows, but the blood on her sigil was still fresh.”

“I don’t—I thought—” Syb’s spine is straighter than during those endless etiquette classes we were forced to take in school. “Isn’t Meriam dead?”

“No.” Antoni’s answer surprises more than just Syb; it surprises me, because the night he and I—

When Lorcan’s gaze sharpens on me, I banish the memory and turn toward Antoni. “I thought you believed her dead.”

Antoni’s blue eyes lower to the ruffled porcelain edge of his plate. “I couldn’t exactly tell you that I knew she wasn’t. After all, back then, I hadn’t been made aware of your lineage.”

Syb’s mouth parts in shock. Since none of the others look surprised, I surmise she was the only one not told of Meriam’s undeadness. “What is a sigil?”

“It’s the way Shabbins cast magic,” Mattia explains softly. “They paint swirly patterns with their blood. That’s how Meriam erected her wards.”

Sybille blinks as though an eyelash has fallen into her eye.

“Was my—” I still cannot bring myself to call her Mother. “Was Zendaya with her?”

“According to what Bronwen saw the night Meriam kidnapped Daya”—Lore’s timbre is as grave as his expression—“Meriam portaled your mother someplace. Someplace she surely planned on heading to before Marco seized her and tossed her in the palace dungeon. Lazarus was the one to tell me about this underground prison, and I was the one to disclose its location to Dante.”

Marco shared Meriam’s location with Lazarus but not with his own brother?

Marco murdered his father, Fallon. I’ve no doubt that if Dante had gotten in the way, he would’ve disposed of him permanently. The outline of Lore’s body has softened and shadowy wisps coil around my trembling hand.

I fist my fingers to stop their tremor. Lore must believe I closed my fingers to rid them of his comforting touch because his smoke glides up my wrist before vaulting back toward his body and firming the broad shape of him.

“Wait.” Gia’s gray eyes begin to glitter. “If you’ve found the sigil, does this mean it was erased? Does this mean the wards have come down?”

“No.” Lore’s answer snuffs out her hope.

And mine.





Twenty-Six





Gia frowns. “But if her blood is no longer fueling the sigil—”

“My Crows tried returning after Dante washed it away, but they collided into a wall.” Lore slow-twirls the knife beside his plate.

“She painted elsewhere . . .” Antoni’s theory is all breath, yet I miss no word. “Because she doesn’t want the Shabbins to return.”

“Why wouldn’t she want her people to return?” Syb asks.

Gia sighs. “Because they’ll punish her, Syb. She’s locked them on an island for five centuries. Remember when I locked you and Fal in the wine cellar when you were what—eight?—without realizing you two were in there, and I found you the next morning?”

We’d banged our fists against the door while yelling at the top of our lungs before plopping on the dank floor and settling in for a long, cold night. I remember the feel of fur against my cheek when I awoke to find a mouse nestled against me. I’d petted the little creature, then shooed it off before Syb awakened because mice terrified her.

A tiny smile flickers across Giana’s tense expression. “You, Syb, looked about ready to pitch me into Mareluce.”

Syb had been rather murderous. I’d been too exhausted and relieved to contemplate murder. Besides, Gia hadn’t done it on purpose.

Cellar sleepover aside, I get her point. If the Shabbins ever get ahold of my grandmother . . . if my father or Lore find her . . . Gods, they will quarter her.

No if. When. Lore’s jaw is so tight and sharp he could probably cleave someone’s head off without the use of his iron beak.

“Do you think she’s coming after Fallon?” Syb asks. “Since she hates Crows and all, and Fal is the only one who can ‘wake’ you?”