House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(68)

My jaw aches from how hard I clench my teeth. How relentless can one person be?

Once Arina has settled, I head up to my bedroom and attempt to sleep, but every creak outside my door makes me startle, every brush of a branch against my window ignites my pulse.

I end up lying awake all night—for nothing since Lore never shows—and yawning through the next day. Although I wonder what Antoni and he discussed, when I ask the sailor over supper the following night, he remains tight-lipped.

And moody. Gods, he is moody. He mustn’t have gotten much sleep either.

I trail after him when he leaves the dining table, and Aoife trails after me, but she’s kind enough to keep her distance.

“Antoni, stop.”

He keeps pounding up the stairs.

“Godsdamnit, Antoni.”

He finally stops and spins around. It’s so sudden that I smack into his chest. His hand snares my bicep, keeping me from tumbling down the stairs and breaking my neck.

“Do you really care so little about me?” His rough murmur scrapes across my furrowed brow.

“What? Why would you ask that? Why would you even think such a thing?” I stare into the blue depths of his eyes and catch the hard shine of his frustration.

“Because, Fallon. Because.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, inspecting the waning crystal on my hoop.

“Because what?”

His touch is warm yet gentle in spite of his many calluses, which, unlike mine, have not begun to soften. Probably because of his Racoccin activities that I so wish he’d share with me.

“Let me come to Rax. Let me help.”

His Adam’s apple rolls up and down twice before he says, “Ríhbiadh would kill me, wouldn’t he, Aoife?” He doesn’t break our stare as he addresses my Crow guard.

Her lack of answer is answer enough.

I grit my teeth. “I wouldn’t let him.”

His lids slide shut, and his hands drop away from my body.

“Antoni, please let me help.”

When his eyes open, his irises have deepened to the indigo of night. “The best way you could help is by leaving.”

“How would my leaving help you?”

He starts up the stairs again.

“Antoni, how—”

“Because I’m a man, Fallon. A man with cravings, and what I crave belongs to another. That’s why!”

I clutch the handrail as he storms up the rest of the stairs, his footsteps loud on the buffed stone, but not as loud as my heart. “I don’t belong to anyone!”

Again, he stops. “Gods, Fal, you’re his mate. His fucking mate.” He does not speak loudly, and yet his words feel as though they resonate through all of Tarecuori. “I cannot compete with that.” And then he’s gone.

And I am left to contend with the aftermath of his announcement.

“Immy was right.”

“No. Antoni’s mistaken.”

I’ve become familiar enough with Aoife’s facial expressions to know that she doesn’t buy my grumbled answer.

“I need wine.” I trundle back down the stairs, shouldering past her.

What I also need is to throttle Lorcan Ríhbiadh for spilling a secret that, in part, belongs to me. Especially since he’s betrothed! It’s fucking unfair and fucking rude.

Since I cannot throttle him at the moment, I will drink away my anger. That seems like a solid plan.

On my way to the cellar, I bump into Catriona. Not literally. Not like I bumped into Antoni. It’s our paths that collide; not our bodies, even if she pants like we’d collided into each other at terminal velocity.

When she spots Aoife over my shoulder, her chest only pumps harder. Though my mind whirrs with murderous thoughts, I’ve enough mental wherewithal to wonder why Catriona looks as though I’ve caught her doing something wicked.





Thirty-Four





The pulse point in Catriona’s neck throbs so hard I worry her heart may derail.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Absolutely. You just spooked me, that’s all.”

“Is that really all?” Aoife voices the question that sits heavily on my tongue.

“Yes. That’s fucking all, corvo.”

“Don’t reduce Aoife to what she is, Catriona. It’s unnecessary. I know times are tense, but we all live under the same roof, so let’s try to get along. That goes for you too, Aoife.”

Catriona’s mouth tightens. I’ve no doubt Aoife’s, too. I don’t glance over my shoulder to find out, though.

I keep my gaze on Catriona’s shrunken pupils and pulsating lips. “What were you doing down here?”

Her eyes tighten on mine. “If you must know, I was cleaning the kitchen.”

Odd, considering Giana mentioned no one but her ever tidied the kitchen.

“Hmm.” Aoife steps in front of me and clutches Catriona’s wrist, lifting it between two fingers. “Seems like you forget put away knife.”

I take a small step back at the sharp shine of Catriona’s blade.

“I heard loud voices.” She tears her hand from Aoife’s hold and falls back a step. “You may not be able to grasp this, Aoife, but I’ve no talons to rely on if our house is breached by ill-willed Fae.”