House of Pounding Hearts (The Kingdom of Crows #2)(97)

He expels a slow breath. We’ll talk when I return.

Don’t bother.

I assure you, it’s never a bother. He strides toward the door Imogen is holding open now that she’s deposited the platter on my bed.

The door shuts, and I think I’m finally rid of him, when a frosty draft winds around my body and forces my neck to tip back. I glare at the lambent eyes staring down at me from a cloud of writhing smoke.

Your safety is my paramount priority. You may not approve of how I go about it, but know that everything I do, I do it to protect you.

I don’t unfold my arms even though my desire to claw at his icy shadows burns strong. So you’re marrying Alyona to protect me? I mutter through the mental bond, which I again wish we didn’t share.

I wrench my head from his grip and storm into my bathing chamber, slamming the door shut behind me, then walk to my sink and study my reflection in the speckled mirror over the sink. My face is distorted with so much anger that I barely recognize the girl beneath the ire.

The girl seemingly not worthy of her own mate’s trust.

Best of luck to Alyona.

May he drive her just as crowshit crazy as he’s driven me.





Forty-Seven





After scarfing down all the food Imogen brought to my bedroom—grilled vegetables and a plethora of cheeses that taste completely different from the ones back in the Fae lands, thanks to the addition of salt—I curl onto the armchair in front of the still roaring fire and pick up a book.

And I read.

And read. I don’t understand three quarters of what my eyes are deciphering, nevertheless, I push on, inferring the meaning of a lot of things and learning new words in the process. I’m two-hundred pages into a thousand-page historical tome titled RAHNACH BI’ADH—Kingdom of the Sky—when the lavender of dawn washes over Luce.

I manage to flip through three more pages before my lids collapse and I black out.

When I awaken hours later, the sapphire ocean is flecked in the gold of the setting sun. I rub the grit from my eyes, then at the dried trail of drool on my chin. And then I wrestle my chaotic hair back and blink around the room.

And everything comes back to me.

Catriona.

The arrow.

Lazarus.

The serpents.

My fight with Lore.

I pick up the heavy book that’s toppled beside the armchair and smooth out its silken sheets, then place it reverently atop the others.

Over the scent of the cold fire, I smell the brine of the ocean and the mineral scent of the mountain I’m now confined to. I smile to myself because I’m not shut inside Monteluce alone.

As I shimmy off the broken-in armchair and stretch my neck from side to side, I decide I’m ready to seek out Phoebus and endure his dissatisfaction. I contemplated going out to find him last night, but I was so stinking furious and focused on me that it wouldn’t have been fair to reconnect with him when I couldn’t have given him one hundred percent of my mind and heart.

Tonight, he will be the sun to my planets, the moon to my tides, the—

Clearly, I’ve energy to spare. Which I suppose is not a terrible thing to have before going into battle to reconquer a lost heart.

I toss on a new dress, an opaque gray frock that clings to my chest but not to my waist or hips. It probably should be belted but I can’t be bothered to crush my waist. Besides, I have a friend to conquer, not a lover.

When I sweep open my bedroom door, I startle Aoife whose fist was poised to knock. I smile at her. “Hi.”

“I come to check if you alive.” Her eyebrows scrunch as she studies my expression. “You look . . .”

“Happy?”

“I was going to say determined.” She tilts her head as though a new angle may give her a peek into my intent. “To do good or no good?”

“When am I ever up to no good?”

“Last week. When you lie about Lorcan saying good idea to wander in open so you trick Eponine.”

“It’s been one week?”

“Tà, Fallon. I thought you dead and say goodbye to all friends for my final voyage.” Her face is stark white beneath her black makeup, and her eyes shine with what I soon realize are tears.

A wave of shame and guilt closes over me at the stress I put this wonderful, sweet woman under. “Oh, Aoife.” I take her hand and squeeze it tight. “I’m so sorry I lied. I didn’t mean to cause you so much grief.”

“Ha fios.”

“I know you know, Aoife, and I know apologizing won’t erase all I did, but I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She expels a deep sigh and squeezes my fingers back. “I not angry with you. I angry with myself. I knew Catriona wanted harm you, and I didn’t do what I should do.”

My fingers drop away from hers. “What do you think you should’ve done?”

“Make her leave Antoni house. Make her talk.”

“The fact that you didn’t may very well have saved my life.”

“How so?”

“Dargento would’ve found another way to hit me. Catriona may have owed him, but she was strong enough to drag her repayment out. She was brave enough to wear the wig that was supposed to grace my head.” My heart lets out a dull beat. “She sacrificed herself to save me.”