She lingers a moment, whispers, “I love you.”
She waits for me to say it back, thin frame denting my mattress, floral fragrance assaulting my senses. Realizing she won’t get tender words from me, she stands and pads out.
The rusted hinges creak as she pulls the door to my small bedroom closed. It’s only when I hear the click of wood settling into the frame that I press my mouth into the pillow and release my bone-jarring sob.
* * *
The tavern,like most shops and businesses, closes the day of the revel.
Gondola after gondola draped in white blooms and bolts of sparkly organza traverse the canals, carrying partygoers to Isolacuori. Each time one passes under Mamma’s bedroom window, my heart cramps.
I watch the lucky few carve across the canal in their glamorous silks and glittery jewels, pitches high and bright. Some even sing bawdy tunes, commencing the party in their boat.
As though the lizards that roam the wisteria vines of our house sense my sadness, four dart over the windowsill, golden scales refracting the sun’s rays, and scurry up the walls, putting on a show for Mamma and me. One even swings itself onto Mamma’s lap and crawls onto her clasped hands until it’s found the ideal indent for his miniature body. The corners of Mamma’s mouth twitch, and it blows away some of my sadness.
The reptile’s lids shut as I read words that glance across my mind like a tossed pebble. Hopefully, they penetrate my mother’s. Once she falls asleep, I carry her new friend back to the sill and shut the window, then head outside for a walk. It’s a terrible idea because the streets are empty and quiet.
Sybille and Phoebus aren’t aware I haven’t been invited, and I haven’t dared confess it for fear it’ll alter their plans, or worse, that it won’t. As the sun bastes the sky in oranges and pinks, I end up at the wharf where I find Giana locking the tavern door. I try to turn down an alley before she spots me, but I’m not quick enough.
“Syb left with Mother and Father over an hour ago.” She scans my attire. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
I look down, petting my simple frock. Instead of wallowing in more self-pity, I widen my eyes in mock horror and whisper, “Have I worn my invisible dress again?”
Giana has the decency to chuckle at my paltry joke.
I nod my chin at her simple attire. “What ofyourgown?”
“Gods, you thought I’d attend an Isolacuorin revel? Not in this lifetime.”
Since we don’t have more than one lifetime, I take it she never plans on attending one. “Where are you headed?”
“To Rax. Humans are throwing a party of their own since ribbons never made their way across the canal.”
Unsurprising.
Humans aren’t even allowed to navigate the waters surrounding the royal isle. “How are you getting to Racocci?”
She slides her lips together. Once. Twice. Finally, she sighs. “On Antoni’s boat. He and his friends didn’t make the list.”
“I didn’t either.”
She lifts a single eyebrow. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Believe it.” I lick my lips. “Can I come with you?”
The setting sun outlines Giana in gold, darkening her brown skin until it appears pitch-black. “Your grandmother—”
“Doesn’t need to know.”
“Fallon . . .”
“Please, Gia. I beg you.” I walk over to her, palms joined in prayer. “I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”
A deep breath gusts out of her. “Just save me from becoming a serpent’s meal when your grandmother tosses me into the canal, all right?”
“Yes!” I all but shout before lowering my voice and adding, “But she won’t toss you in. I swear it on all our faerie gods.”
Giana smiles and shakes her head but then points to the wharf where Antoni stands, his gaze riveted to us.
