Speaking of which . . . “Does obsidian shatter?”
Why do you ask?
“Because of the bowl Marco made with one of your crows. I was just wondering how to free him. I was thinking I could drop it when I’m brought to the trophy room. You know, after I’m arrested and dragged to the dungeon.” I tip my head to the side. “Right before Dante saves me and makes me his queen.”
Morrgot studies Furia, who’s happily munching on a palm frond.
“How exactly will you dethrone Marco?”
How are kings removed from power, Fallon?
My head snaps straight. “You’re going to kill him?”
I should for what he’s done to me and my people, but Priya has asked me to deliver the man to her shores so she may deal with him as she sees fit.
“Priya?” Beads of water trickle down my arms and around my breasts, running down my hollowed stomach. When it releases a low, short growl, I palm it and scan the trees for something to eat.
The Queen of Shabbe.
“You’re friends with— You know her?” I’m half-awed, half-perplexed. “I hear she dismembers men, starting by their most private parts.” I picture Marco at her mercy, but the thought is so horrid, I force it away. “I hear the sand in Shabbe is pink because of all the blood spilled.”
Impressive.
“What is? Her manner of torture, or her ability to take lives without a care in the world?”
Neither. I’m impressed by how the Fae have turned the Shabbins into veritable creatures of nightmares.
“Are you saying it’s all hearsay?”
Not all of it.The Shabbinsareruthless and formidably powerful but they’re also clever and fair.
“If they were clever, then why let the world believe they’re monsters?”
What choice do they have? They’ve been prisoners of their island for over five centuries, and the few brave, or foolish, souls who dare penetrate the wards become stuck right alongside them.
“I hear they turn them into slaves.”
You’ve heard wrong.
“How would you know?” I snap.
Why so peeved?
My forearms dig into my abdomen which rages, but no longer for food. “Because you’re implying I’ve gobbled up lies my entire life.”
It isn’t your fault, Fallon. You didn’t know any better.
His answer cools my simmering frustration until I realize that I’m licking up his words the same way I licked up my professors’ teachings and the rumors spilled atBottom of the Jugover tankards of faerie wine. “How do I knowyou’renot the one lying?”
I suppose you don’t. You’ll have to visit Shabbe to make up your own mind.
I snort. “Oh, you’re good. You’rereallygood. But the thing is, Morrgot, I’m not the dumb girl you believe me to be. I’m not taking a one-way trip to a land you claim is pretty and fair.” I notch my chin higher. “And if you try to drag me there, I’ll stake every last one of your crows and drop them into Filiaserpens where they’ll rot for all of eternity.”
The gold in Morrgot’s eyes churns.Once you make me whole, I will owe you my life, Behach Éan. You’ll have nothing to fear from me.
Again with that nickname . . .If he’s calling me names, then I demand he shares their meaning so I can make up some of my own. “What doesBeyockeenmean?”
Are you averse to coconuts?
