“Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to tag along on that trip.”
As I tell them about Justus, the king, and the commander’s suggestion to toss me into Mareluce, Syb’s mouth widens and widens until all her pearlescent teeth are on display. Her sister, on the other hand, displays not a gram of shock.
As we dim the glow of the lanterns that are strung up from fishing ropes helter-skelter across the room, I ask Giana, “Do you think it’s true? About the princess of Glace?”
She side-eyes me. “Steel that sweet heart of yours, Fallon, or our world will end up licking away all of its honey.”
However poetic, it doesn’t answer my question. “Does that mean yes?”
“No, I hadn’t heard of their tryst. Am I surprised by it, though? No. Eponine comes from Nebba. It’s only natural that Marco would seek an alliance with the last kingdom.”
“Marco can’t force his brother to marry if he doesn’t want to.”
“Perhaps. But what if Dante does want to?”
Anger gnaws at my insides like a ravenous animal, siphoning all that is sweet until I’m left with a writhing, rabid hunger to dethrone Marco immediately.
Perhaps, in the end, Dante won’t choose me, but the least I can do is make sure he gets to choose for himself.
Thirty-Eight
After receiving bone-crushing hugs from Defne and Marcello, I head out with Syb onto the moonlit pier, the note her parents inked and sealed with wax tucked into the satchel I’ve knotted across my drumming chest.
My heartbeats are so close together, they rattle the handful of coppers, and jostle the food and water that’ll keep me going during my mountain crossing. At least the food and water will. I may run out of coin before then if the vision I had of Bronwen with a horse was brought on by low blood sugar. Here’s to hoping it wasn’t a hallucination but an augur of my future.
Although the wharf is still calm at this hour, many fishermen are already up and about, readying their lures and nets. As we walk toward the ferry’s berth, the moonlight tangles in Mattia’s shoulder-length mane. He’s crouched on the deck of Antoni’s boat, scraping barnacles off a cage. His movements slow as his head tips up and he sees us.
I wave. Antoni must not have told him we were already over because I get a tentative smile and a wave back.
Syb leans into me and whispers, “You think it’d be weird if I asked him out on a date?”
“Why would it be weird?”
She arches an eyebrow. “Because I slept with Antoni.”
“Over a year ago.” I study the delicate lines of my friend’s profile, the thick lashes, pert nose, and full mouth that’s one shade darker than her deep-brown face. “I say, go for it.”
“What if he rejects me? Who’ll hold my hand if you’re gone?”
“Phoebus.”
She pouts. “What about my other hand?”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t be gone long.”
“I wish you’d tell me where exactly you were going.”
“Where the winds blow me.”
“What if the winds blow you off a cliff?”
“I’ll make sure not to stand too close to one’s edge.”
“You really should head to Tarespagia by sea. I’ve heard people disappear in Monteluce.”
“There’soneroad, and it’s constantly patrolled. Can you imagine the odds of getting lost?”
“You’re good at defying odds.”
