House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(54)

Gabriele’s gaze tracks my approach before lifting to the five feathered giants eddying above me like a storm cloud. Their bodies cast shadows upon the swarm of nervous sprites escorting me toward the sturdy pontoon and the thickening crowd that white-garbed soldiers hold back.

Antoni’s new black ship lists over the turquoise Tarecuorin waters, berthed beside a varnished gondola packed with silken pillows—Ptolemy Timeus’s. Although childish, I have half a mind to hop aboard and toss every pillow into Mareluce. Since I am trying my best to act dignified, I shelve my juvenile revenge for later.

The tension is so thick that it makes the bowl of grapes Imogen insisted I eat—after testing one—bounce around in my stomach.

“Signorina Rossi.” Gabriele inclines his head.

“Signore Moriati.” I incline my head back.

Unlike Tavo, Gabriele does not insist I call him by his new title: Commander.

I pinch the fluid skirt of the gold dress composed of a mix of silk and glittery chiffon, and step aboard the military vessel without touching his proffered hand. I settle at the back of the ship with Syb and a glowering Imogen, whose presence aboard sends the four soldiers manning the boat pedaling backward.

Although not the most frightful Crow I’ve encountered, Imogen does carry a murderous clout that makes me glad not to be her enemy. As the gray-eyed captain powers us away from Tarecuori, Gabriele braves the frightful Crow to come stand beside me.

“You have tits of steel, Fallon,” he murmurs.

Since he does not glance at my cleavage, I imagine it’s an expression. “Because I returned?”

“Do you know how many people want you dead?”

“Do you want me dead?”

“However convenient, no. I do not. Thanks to you, I’ve become Commander of Luce.” A blond strand flogs his forehead. He presses it back behind his peaked ear. “Why did you return? Did your winged king not treat you well?”

“I returned because I’ve lived my entire life in Luce. This is my home.”

The tainted walls of my house light up the backs of my lids. I blink them away, focusing instead on the powerful body of the emerald serpent that’s jumping in the foamy wake of our vessel like a child playing hopscotch.

Although threads of sparkling magic vein the palms of two soldiers, neither hoses the beast with their fire. If one so much as tries, so help me Gods—

“Why did you wake them?” Gabriele’s platinum gaze is set on the circlet of giant crows.

Since I prefer he not find out about my foolish prophecy-go-getting, I say, “Because I wanted to meet my father.”

“Is he one of the crows trailing us?”

“No, he’s searching for my mother.”

“The Shabbin one?”

I don’t bother acquiescing.

He lowers his gaze to the cobalt fault line that runs from Tarecuori to Isolacuori. “I was not aware Crows could swim.”

“Swim? I suppose they can float and paddle well enough, but they’re far better at flying. What does swimming have to do with my mother?”

“I heard Meriam killed her before Marco and Justus managed to trap her. I heard she tossed her own daughter’s exsanguinated body into Filiaserpens.”

I jerk my attention to the seam in the ocean floor. “You heard wrong.” My heartbeats are so strong that each feels like a punch to the ribs. “Meriam portaled her someplace.”

“Someplace in Luce?”

“My father has yet to find her.”

Unless he’s made progress on his quest?

I glance toward Imogen for an answer, but her full attention is on the solid gold pontoon shimmering like the rest of the royal isle.

Imagining Lorcan is nearby—in some form or another—or at the very least, eavesdropping as he does on the regular, I ask for an update. When he does not give me one, I surmise he’s either not listening—for once—or doesn’t know.

As the boat slows, Gabriele asks, “Don’t the wards magnetize Shabbin blood?”

“They do.” The surface of Mareluce is so placid that it looks as though a god has taken a hot iron to it.

“Then she must be in Shabbe.”

“She isn’t.” I turn to stare at the stately male. “Lorcan believes Meriam may have bound her magic.”

“Like she bound yours?”

“Meriam didn’t bind mine. My mother did.” Or another Shabbin witch. Unless it was Meriam?

Lore never did say who stripped my blood of its magic. Granted, I never asked.

Who bound my powers, Lore?

I wait for him to answer.

And wait.

When we dock, the Sky King still has not answered me. I surmise that he must be out of range or busy. Perhaps he’s in Glace, wooing his princess and her father. After all, he’s not only marrying a woman; he’s also marrying her kingdom.

To think that she will become Queen of Luce . . .

Well, of a significant part of the land.

To think she will hold the title I once believed was meant to be mine.

“So, tell me, why am I being summoned, Gabriele?”

“For a diplomatic lunch.” Dante’s voice reels my gaze toward where he stands on the pontoon, shimmering like a Fae idol in his golden tunic and sunray crown.

Here I’d believed he’d elect a more sober outfit than his brother’s. “Good morning, Maezza.”