Morrgot just stares back, awake now.Obviously, since he sent me a vision of Bronwen and Lore.
“What happened to Bronwen’s face?”
Morrgot keeps staring and staring, and I’m tempted to dig my pinkies into my ears in case water’s lodged in there and I missed his answer, but Morrgot doesn’t speak out loud, so that’d be rather pointless.
“She was so beautiful. What happened to her? And Keeann? Who’s he? Besides her mate. Wait, does mate mean husband?” Silence. “Why are you gawping at me as though I’ve lost my mind? Didn’t you—” I look around, gathering some of the fronds and pressing them against my bared breasts, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’tyousend me that vision?”
A twig snaps and my heart pinwheels. When I see Furia walking around, my pulse slows.
We need to get going.
The sky has deepened and darkened while I slept. It’s now streaked in liquid golds and velvety oranges, the color of the fire crackling in the vision of Bronwen and Lore.
Sighing, I gather my clothes and drag them on. Although they don’t smell any nicer, they look brighter. How I miss the scent of soap, the slide of it across my skin. Perhaps once we reach Tarespagia, I’ll get the chance for a proper bath.
As I stuff my brassiere into my satchel, not caring all that much if it ends up slipping out, I ask again, “So, what happened to Bronwen? And to Keeann?”
It’s her story to tell, Fallon.
I growl in frustration. “Well, she’s not here to tell it, now is she?”
Morrgot circles me.
I blow away a piece of hair that is molded to my cheek. “She knowseverythingabout me; it’s only fair I knowsomethingabout her.”
More silence.
“I won’t get on Furia until you—”
Cian is Cathal’s brother.
I’m so stunned that he’s indulged me that it takes my mind a full minute to wrap itself around that kernel.
“That makes her my . . .? Oh my Gods, Bronwen’s my aunt?” I yell this so loudly that I startle two scarlet birds from a tree. I’m sort of surprised they hung around, what with an enormous, scary crow lording about. I suppose Morrgot isn’t in the habit of attacking his own species.
I gave you something. Now please, get on the horse.
I don’t move because Icannot. I’m still processing that I have a relative I’ve never heard about. Although women claim themselves capable of doing two things at once, this skill obviously passed me by, same as my Fae power. I really got the short end of the stick during the genetic selection. Maybe my father’s crow affiliation nulled all the good stuff.
Furia hooves the grass and huffs.
“I’m hurrying. I’m hurrying.” I slip on my boots and sling my satchel around my chest, and then I grab ahold of the reins and pull myself up with ease. Furia must sense my newfangled adeptness because he starts walking before I’m seated in the saddle.
We’ll reach Selvati by sunrise, spend the day, then set out for Tarespagia.
Selvati is the equivalent of Racocci on this side of Monteluce, except four times more populated, poorer, and dirtier. I hear most humans live in squalor and racketeer unsuspecting Tarespagians for a living.
“Where will we be spending the day?” I’m praying he doesn’t suggest under a piece of rusted metal.
In the home of a friend.
I’m tempted to say,you have friends? but swap it for a more pleasant question. “With walls and a roof and a bed?” I almost add a bathtub to my list but don’t want to come across as demanding or prissy. Which is odd, really, because it isn’t like I actually care what Morrgot thinks of me.
With walls and a roof and a bed.
I take in a deep lungful of dusky air, the tightness in my chest easing. “Now I’m actually excited to discover Selvati.”
Don’t let excitement run away with your gumption. The Regios have smothered humans for so many centuries that they’ve become wretched.
