House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(60)

“I—”

“She’s our guest, Eponine,” Dante says.

“But I need a crutch,” she whines, “and she’s the perfect height.”

Syb blinks up at Eponine. “I—um—”

“We’ll only be gone but a minute. I’ll make it worth your while, Bibble.”

Bibble? My nerves are so shot that a grin drapes across my lips.

“My name is actually Sybille,” I hear my friend mutter as she stands, and my chest spasms.

Not the time, Fal, not the time, I chide myself, focusing hard on the painted grapes on my plate.

“I’m sorry about your pets, Signorina Rossi,” Eponine says.

My hilarity withers. “My pets?”

The future Queen of Luce winds her fingers around Syb’s forearm. “Your serpents. I may not be Shabbin but I do care about the balance of our world.” She wobbles as she heads toward the stairs.

“Perhaps you should care more about your own balance.” Pierre looks about ready to hurl her onto a Crow’s beak.

Although his voice is low and she gives no reaction, I’ve no doubt she’s heard him. After all, her ears are pointy.

“Why is Eponine sor—” My palm rises to my lips at the same time my heart rises into my throat.

Serpents cannot live without salt! By ridding our oceans of salt, Dante and Pierre will also be ridding them of serpents.

“You cannot do that!” I blurt out.

The soldiers in forest green shift closer to Pierre. Are they worried I’ll spring out of my chair and claw his face out with my very human nails, which, granted, are sharper than they’ve ever been, but still not as useful as iron talons?

“We are kings; we can do anything.” Pierre Roy polishes his crown of golden thorns with a long thumb. “Besides, we will be augmenting the supply of potable water.”

Still care to pledge yourself to this man? Lore’s mild tone sparks my already fiery temper.

I shoot a glare his way. Why don’t you worry about your own fucking betrothal?

His mouth bends with the murkiest smile, one that says: Look at you breaking your vow never to speak into my mind again. Or maybe his warped lips say: Enjoy lying in the filthy bed you’ve just made for yourself.

“What are your thoughts on this salt-blasting compound, Mórrgaht?” I snap.

Lore presses his chair back as though to stand, but he doesn’t. He merely hooks his ankle over his opposite knee and reclines in his seat, settling in. “Crows have no need for salt or serpents, so it matters little to me.”

“Except”—I match his smile with a frigid one of my own—“you’ve need for me still. You said so yourself.”

“Only until Meriam is found.” Wisps of darkness rise from his iron pauldrons. “Which should be soon thanks to Dante, who’s put his very best trackers on the job. How fortunate that our ambitions align.” Lore’s gaze wanders toward the Lucin Fae King, who sits erect and quiet on his chair. “Both of us desiring a wardless world. How spectacular it will be once the Shabbins roam free.” Lore plants his elbow on his armrest and rests his chin on two curved, iron-tipped fingers. “Right, Regio?”

Why does it feel as though Lore is taunting Dante?

The embellishments in Dante’s braids clink as he squares his shoulders. “Who isn’t eager for Shabbins to roam freely once more?”

Um . . . him.

When serving girls approach, balancing plates covered by gold cloches, I tear my attention off the goading monarchs.

If the food is here, then why aren’t Sybille and Eponine?

Dread begins to froth behind my breastbone as I scan the castle grounds for two women in fancy gowns. Did the Nebban princess really take my friend to the kitchen, or did she lead her into some dungeon?





Thirty-One





As our decorative plates are swapped for ones topped with food, Lore says, “Actually, Pierre, questing to retrieve Meriam aside, a marriage with Fallon would prove an advantageous alliance for our two monarchies. If you’re still interested in binding yourself to Zendaya’s child, we can work on drafting a proposal after lunch.”

“I’m very interested.” The Nebban King’s eyes slither over what he can see of my face, which is not much considering I’ve swiveled fully toward Lore to better glower at him.

Unlike you, I didn’t actually have the intention to bind myself to someone for personal gain. I press out of my chair. “I’m afraid the heat is making me feel faint. Thank you for this enlightening get-together, Maezza. Where do you suppose I can find Syb and Eponine?”

Dante brackets his plate with his forearms, slender braids rushing over his gold jacket as he looks left and right. “That is an excellent question. Guards, where have the women gone?”

“To the healer’s,” one of the white-robed men announces. “The princess was feeling under the weather.”

Dante clicks his fingers. “Escort Signorina Rossi there, and see that she is given something to counter her lightheadedness.”

Pierre rises from his seat. “Mademoiselle Rossi.” He shoots me a smarmy smile as he takes my hand. “Such a pl—”

A dark shape coalesces between Pierre and me, all at once springing his fingers off mine and forcing my body to fall back.