I frown.
“And what mother?”
Although my heart doesn’t break, it crackles. Especially considering all the anecdotes Nonna shared with me over the years of how close her daughters were. Domitina used to revere Mamma, who would take her baby sister everywhere.
I back away from the beautiful woman with the ugly heart and cross the threshold. Outside the front door, I peer around the grounds.Where’s the grove, Morrgot?
Follow the torchlit path.
I walk fast, casting glances over my shoulder. No one follows me.What a rotten family I have. It’s a wonder I turned out the way I did.
You mean, humble and compliant?
I snort at his humor.How in Luce did you wreak all that chaos? Did you fly back to Luce while I slept?
I’m hoping he says yes. Then, at least, he wouldn’t have observed my lively slumber.
I did not.
Well, damn.Bronwen?
Not Bronwen, but the people she entrusted with recovering the piece of me locked in the throne room.
I stumble on the hem of my dress and catch myself on one of the golden torches. I hiss as my fingertips connect with the flame.
What’s wrong?
Nothing. Clumsiness.I grip the folds of my heavy skirt and hike it up as I break back into a run.Did they manage to get the bowl?
They did.
And?I ram my shoulders back to prevent as much bounce as possible in the front area of my torso.Did they free your crow?
Only you can do that.
My heartbeats swell and invade my mouth.Why is it that only I can do it?
Because of your immunity to both obsidian and iron.
How come I’m immune?
After a full minute of silence, I call his name through the bond. He doesn’t answer, so I concentrate on the path that keeps twisting to the point where I wonder if I’m running in circles.
You’re not. Look up.
The sight of his darkness soaring over me settles my jangling nerves.Go to Sewell. In case—
Sewell’s fine, Fallon.
You told him not to touch the obsidian, right?
He knows, Behach Éan.His voice is as gentle as the rush of wind through my hair.
I really despise running.
You’ve almost arrived.
I hope he’s not pulling a Nonna. Whenever I complained that something dragged, she’d tell me it was almost finished. It was never even close to being done.
