House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(92)



“Of course, Fallon.”

“Is there a way to tell whether I—whether I’m—” I battle back my shoulder-length locks that are in dire need of a brush.

“Whether you’re . . .?”

I drop my voice. “With child?”

The ancient man blinks, his gaze roving to the closed door. Does he think I’ve lain with Lore? I’m about to set him straight, but the truth is so pathetic that I let him run with his assumption.

He gestures to my stomach. “May I?”

I’m not quite sure what he’s asking permission for, but I nod. He kneels before me, opens my robe, then presses one of his peaked ears against my abdomen. Anyone else and I would’ve burned with embarrassment, but Lazarus doesn’t inspire that feeling in me.

After a few excruciatingly long seconds, he rises back to his feet. “Your womb is empty.”

“Thank Gods.” Actually, thank Nonna . . . Thank that awful decoction she made me ingest.

A soft smile sprouts onto his haggard face. “I suppose we should thank the gods you haven’t made that man a father yet. Considering how disposed he is to raze the world for you, it begs the question . . . what would he do for his child?”

My frenzied pulse deepens the ache at my temples. “It wouldn’t have been his.” I confess in order to put an end to his assumptions. “The Sky King is all but married, and it isn’t to me.”

“But aren’t you”—a deep furrow appears between his graying eyebrows—“aren’t you mates?”

“No.”

“I thought—”

“I’m just his curse-breaker.”

Lazarus stares steadily at me, and I stare steadily back because averting my gaze would hint at a lie, and I don’t want him spreading his theory to the rest of the Sky Kingdom.

The healer’s forehead pleats, smooths, before pleating again.

I’ve confused him. Good. “Thank you for saving my life, Lazarus.”

He rolls his lips. “Glad I could be of service, Fallon, but please avoid getting shot or knifed or drowned for my ears are now bare.” He gestures to them, to the twin columns of hoops that no longer hold remedial stones.

“I penned this promise earlier.”

As he takes my arm to lead me out of the bedroom, he asks, “Who told you Meriam was in Tarespagia?”

“Eponine. I salted her wine so she’d spill her secrets.”

He draws open the heavy door and bares my weight as I hobble toward the air hub where a giant crow with golden eyes awaits. “I wasn’t aware you two knew each other.”

“In spite of what many may think, my trip to Luce wasn’t for pleasure.”

His knotted eyebrows tell me that it is exactly what he’d thought.

Lore crouches so I can climb onto his back. Once astride him, my forearms sink into his soft feathers as I harness his neck.

Hold on tight, Little Bird, he whispers as he takes off for the beach I don’t have many fond memories of. For good reason. After all, I was almost gulped down by the ocean.

I’m hoping to make new memories tonight.

Better memories.

Memories where a kindly serpent swims up to me and licks the nightmarish wounds that stick to the black robe like a clew of thirsty leeches.

Although the air is heavy with moisture, the clouds have scattered, revealing a moon as thin as a fingernail clipping.

Lore flies me down slowly, wings never once retracting. Although impatient to reach the white-crested ocean, I’m grateful for the gentle descent because I doubt my trembling arms would’ve survived a nosedive. Around us, other dark shapes eddy through the air. More Crows, I presume.

When we finally land, Lore dissolves into smoke. I shut my eyes, preparing myself for a faceful of sand, but all I get is a faceful of cool shadows that harden into a solid chest full of heartbeats. As I reel my lids up, I find I am standing with my face cradled in the slope of Lorcan’s neck, the tip of my nose against his pulse point and my cheek pressed into the hard ridge of his collarbone.

I arch my spine to pry my body away from his—well, as far away as his arms will allow. “You can let go.”

The breeze ruffles his black hair, tossing it into the golden eyes that are inspecting me, assessing whether I am, indeed, fit to stand on my own two feet. “And have a serpent swim away with you? I think not.”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip and glance over my shoulder at the ocean. “Do you really think they’d try to carry me down to their lair?”

“The only thing I really think is that this plan is madness and that I’d prefer not to have to wrestle you out of their hold like the last time one took a liking to you.”

I sigh, but it comes out all choppy because of my chattering teeth. “Fine.”

I pivot, forcing his hand off my waist and onto my elbow. Although I try my hardest not to put any weight on him, a bolt of pain shoots up my shin and thigh and does away with both my balance and breath.

Lore curses low in his throat, shifting his hold on my body. He’s so well acquainted with my injuries that he manages not to touch them. Another few strides and I am knee-deep in the ocean.

I hiss at the sting of salt, but push through the pain before Lorcan can decide to whisk me back to his bed.

The chilled seawater laps at my warm skin, needling goosebumps to the surface. I hold my breath as I stride in deeper, as the salt saturates the robe and chews into my injuries.

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