House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(76)

Eponine snatches a glass, paying the woman’s offer no mind. “And, Cati, get yourself a pair and put it on my account. It’s the least I can do.”

Catriona’s eyes flash a brutal shade of green at the nickname Eponine has just flung her way, but she dips her head and abides by her future ruler’s directive.

The platter of drinks is extended my way, but I shake my head.

Once she’s retreated through a door built into the wallpapered wall, Eponine murmurs, “You shouldn’t trust that woman, Fallon.”

I assume she means Catriona. “Why do you say that?”

“Because she’ll do anything for coin.”

“Like most people in Luce.”

“I’d still be wary of her if I were you.”

“I assure you, I’m wary of everyone. Even of you.”

A smile quirks her lips, which are painted the same hue as her amethyst circlet. “As you should be. You are, after all, the most loathed person in Luce. Word has it, you’re even more loathed than the Sky King.”

“So I hear.”

She flicks her gaze around the room as though to ascertain that no one stands too near. “But not as loathed as Meriam.” She tips the glass to her mouth and takes a long swallow, keeping her eyes on mine.

I wait for her to say more. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Do you really know where she is, Princcisa?”

“Please, call me Eponine. And I do, but my knowledge comes at a cost.”

My heart pounds so loudly that I can feel it palpitate in my tongue. “I was told of the cost.”

“And?”

“It will be done.” Sure, Lore hasn’t agreed to it—yet—but do I really need him? Obviously, he’ll have a strong opinion on my decision to take this project upon myself, and his opinion will go something like this: You’re not actually contemplating murdering the King of Nebba yourself, my foolish little bird?

“Wonderful.” She downs the contents of her glass, then taps one pointy nail against the etched crystal to indicate she desires a refill.

Something scratches at the walls of my mind. “Who’ll rule Nebba?”

“Why”—the princess’s eyes glitter like the wine being ferried back her way—“me.”

My heart slow-twirls as I picture a woman rising to such a position of power. “What about Dante?”

“What about him?”

I side-eye the pointy-eared female attendant replenishing Eponine’s flute, waiting until she scampers away before asking in a hushed tone, “Will you take him with you?”

“Gods, no. I’ll leave him to Luce and the women who want him.” She wriggles her long, arched brows. “I hear one of these women might be you.”

My heart twinges. “Once upon a time, but Gods, not anymore.”

She tilts her head to the side, which sends her long, silken hair cascading over her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you’re far more interesting than that frigid Glacin scarecrow. If I thought you had any interest in women, I may have invited you to rule at my side, but I sense your heart is already taken.”

A blush scampers across my cheeks at her perspicacity.

She places her hand on my knee and squeezes my leg, then raises her glass. “To the future queens of this world, Signorina Rossi.” With a wink, she adds, “To us.”

My spine prickles at her toast.

Is she referring to our agreement to remove her father from power, or to me sitting upon a throne of my own?

“Eponine, you swear to never poison our oceans?”

“On my life, Fallon.”

I suddenly wish bargains could adhere to my skin, for I want this one inked in magic. As an ebullient Syb bursts up the stairs, sallow-faced sister in tow, I begin to plot how I will go about murdering a king.

Gods, who have I become?

My mind whispers: “King-killer.”

I hush it, choosing another qualification for myself.

One that doesn’t make my stomach convulse: “Queen-maker.”





Thirty-Eight





A familiar Crow finally shows up the next day.

That Crow isn’t Lore.

Still, I’m glad to see Aoife, especially when she brings me a bottle of Crow wine to make up for her prolonged absence. Although she owes me nothing, neither wine nor her company, I’m glad for both.

Asking her about Lorcan’s whereabouts is on the tip of my tongue, but I swap my query with one that won’t make her wonder why I care that he hasn’t come to visit. Just because he hinted that we were due for a talk doesn’t mean he’s in a hurry to have one.

He’s a king with much to do.

Of course, my mind hops right over the missing Crows and goes straight to Alyona. I catch myself hoping that he isn’t doing her. If he is, it would make our talk very short.

I close my eyes and attempt to steady my thrashing heart. I may be Lorcan’s mate, but I’ve no claim on him, especially since I rejected him.

“Adh fin,” Aoife says as she scratches the sheet of vellum between us with the tip of her feather-tipped fountain pen.

I give my head a rapid shake to bring myself back to the here and now.

“Aww fion,” I repeat, trying my best to mimic her pronunciation.