I wait for him to say more. “What did I promise?”
“Not to get into any trouble.”
“And you promised not to kiss another woman.”
I wait for him to tell me he didn’t, but the words never come, and his silence is a punch to the heart. “Is she nice?”
Please say no.
He shifts his gaze from my face to the road, but I don’t think he’s seeing the flagstones or the line of palms that hem them in.“She is.”
Battling down my jealousy, I stare at the trees. They’re so straight and thick and tall that they resemble solemn giants with their massive, waving fronds. I’ve no doubt they were nurtured by earth-Fae, the same way I’ve no doubt the vines of flowers icing the top of the ramparts are Fae-made.
“But she’s not you.” His belated answer hooks my sinking heart and reels it back up.
Its thuds, loud as the thrashing waves, must penetrate his ears because a tentative smile reshapes his lips.
And yet, he still kissed her,comes an unsolicited voice.
“We’re here.” Dante tugs on his horse’s bridle, leading the way down a path paved with the same shimmering sandstone that adorns the rampart-like walls and the broad roads between them. “The revel is in Marco’s honor. He’ll be in attendance.”
“That’s fine.”
If he’s surprised by my willingness to spend time with his brother, he doesn’t mention it. “Does your great-grandmother know you’re coming?”
“No. It’s a surprise.”
“She isn’t the type of woman you want to surprise.”
His counsel doesn’t irk me because, in my head, I’ve built her up to be the feminine version of my grandfather. Just as callous and ashamed of Mamma and me.
Gods, if she knew who my father was . . . if anyone knew who he was . . .
Even Dante would look upon me with stark horror.
I chase the thought away immediately. Dante has always accepted me the way I was, round ears and all. He’d never think differently of me if he found out the origin of the blood in my veins.
Which he will find out.
Soon.
We come to a stop in front of an estate that puts the Acoltis’ to shame. Unlike the homes in Selvati, this one is made of a mosaic of turquoise glass and mother-of-pearl that shimmers like the Isolacuorin canals.
Dante reaches up. Although I can now swing off Furia with a modicum of grace, I still seize his hand. Any excuse to touch him.
He releases me the moment my boots meet the ground. Yes, I wear boots. Sewell, in his haste, forgot fancy shoes. Without a doubt, they’ll attract many a sneer from the crowd within. I don’t much care if my fashion faux-pas sparks whispers because I’m not here to make a favorable impression, or to form bonds with relatives who couldn’t care less about me.
I’m here as a distraction.
I turn to Sewell and hand him Furia’s reins. “See that he’s fed and given water.”
Our eyes lock for a long minute.
“Of course, milady.” He lays a Selvatin accent on thick.
The temptation to look up is harrowing.What now, Morrgot?
Now, you dazzle the reveling Fae with your charm.
