“Fallon.” His jaw, I note, is as hard as the walls surrounding us. I also note that it’s ticking. “Fallon Báeinach.”
“Rossi. But I guess I’m a Bannock, too. You’re Lore, then?” I stick out my hand. “I’ll admit, it’s a little odd meeting like this”—I nod to my unclothed body—“but still a pleasure.”
“How are you here?” Lore doesn’t make a move to shake my hand, merely watches it, stiff jaw ticking away.
“Your bird sent me. I guess he wanted to introduce us. Not sure why he shipped me over naked, though. Perhaps it’s symbolic?”
His gaze rises and falls over my body. “Symbolic?”
I feel my body pinkening. “You know . . .”
“I’m not certain I do.”
I snag my lip between my teeth, then pop it free. “I can mean you no harm, since I have no weapon on me.” I nod to my still outstretched hand. “My fingers aren’t made of obsidian, Lore.”
His eyes snap back to mine, pupils distended against the sunset irises.
Assuming it mustn’t be Crow-custom to shake hands, I lower my palm and scrape it down my hip. My skin is clammy even though my body is hot, made hotter by the intensity of Lore’s black-rimmed stare. It wouldn’t surprise me if his irises were made of actual flames. I’ll have to ask Morrgot once he carries me back to reality.
Since he hasn’t yet, I fill the silence with idle chitchat. “It’s a nice grotto you have here. Very”—I gesture to the austere decor, trying to come up with a word to encompass it—“crowish.”
“Crowish?” A side of his mouth lifts, which is a welcome change from all the ticking.
I shrug. “Au naturel. Rugged. Devoid of Fae artifice. Masculine.”
The corner of his mouth turns up a little more. “You detest it.”
“Detest is a strong word. Would I choose to live here? Probably not, but that’s rather irrelevant since it’s your home, and although we might become fast friends once I revive you, you probably won’t want to hang out in your private quarters with me.” I’m tempted to grab a pelt from his bed to toss over my shoulders, but figure it’ll fall through my fingers. “So, what was it you were looking at?”
I approach the window and peer out, and my breath . . . it’s snagged from my lungs because the view is spectacular. Crystal-blues, pearlescent sand, and foamy waves spreading into an ocean that shimmers like a carpet of cut sapphires toward an island pinkened by the sunset.
“Is that Shabbe?”
“It is.”
Which means . . . “We’re in the Sky Kingdom!” My gaze hurtles back to Lore’s. “I cannot believe Morrgot allowed me inside these walls. He was so adamant about keeping me out.”
Lore is quiet, contemplative, and it isn’t the land that he contemplates but me. I suppose that if a naked stranger pranced around my bedroom, I’d be observing them as well. Not that I’m prancing, per se.
With his face in full light, I can make out his lashes against the black makeup. They’re indecently long and thick, like curved down. His nose is long and sharp, not beak-like, just really straight. I bet it’d indent my skin if he ran it along my cheek.
Which. . . why the underworld would he?
My face grows so hot I’m tempted to press it against the stone wall, which I’m certain will be cool, but that would surely strike him as odd.
I turn back toward the window and cross my arms, concentrating hard on the view below. “So, um, what do you want to talk about?”
“You tell me.”
My gaze flicks back to his. He’s no longer smiling, but his features aren’t half as hard as they were when I first showed up.
Except for his cheekbones.
And jaw.
And nose.
What is this fixation I have with his nose? It’s notthatdifferent from most noses. It probably just stands out more because of the makeup, like an island in the middle of an ocean. “How should I know?”
