“And serpents need to stop being hunted.”
My suggestion is met with silence.
I twist around in the saddle. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you, but as long as they attack us—”
“If we stopped attacking them, they’d stop attacking us.”
“We’re not all Shabbin.”
“I’m not Shabbin, Dante.”
“You can talk to serpents. For Cauldron’s sake, stop denying it!”
I gnash my teeth at his tone. “For the last time, Icannottalk to serpents, but I do feel a connection to them, the same way I feel a connection to most animals.”
Because you’re Crow, Fallon. Animals scent what we are through our blood.
My lids pull up as I remember Minimus’s reaction to my wound. Morrgot, too, had—
I’ll never get his name straight.Lorcan. Lorcan. Lorcan.I hammer the word into my mind, evicting the other.
Lorcanhas finally solved one mystery. HowIfailed to elucidate it the moment he showed me who fathered me is beyond me. Is it because I hadn’t yet come to terms with my heritage?
Not that I have accepted it yet.
“How do you know you’re not Shabbin?” Dante’s rough timbre scrapes over the side of my head. “Have you met your father? Is that another secret you hoard?”
Even though I bristle, I remind myself that Dante must still be in shock.“I know I’m not Shabbin, because Lorcan—”
“Is your father.” The noose of Dante’s arms loosens, undoubtedly from disgust. “That’s why he’s so protective of you.”
“What? No. I amaCrow’s daughter, but not”—I nod to the sky—“his. Lorcan’s just protective because I’m the only person who can free him.”
“The only person, huh?” Tavo says, right before his face contorts with such pain that I think Lorcan planted his iron talons into a soft area on his body. “I wasn’t planning on killing her, you godsdamned psycho.”
Gabriele is looking at me, too, but he has the good sense, or the good manners, not to speak.
“A Crow . . .” Dante murmurs, eyes slightly glazed.
Since his grip stays slack, I mutter, “It’s not contagious.”
He glances at my face, something hard and guarded in his eyes. He’ll eventually see past it, but in the meantime, it hurts.
“I’m still me.” The silence becomes as thick and sticky as the humidity.Ugh.I shouldn’t have told him.
Never be ashamed of who you are, Fallon.
I’m not ashamed,I growl.And butt out of my head. You aren’t welcomed!
As the distance between houses shrink, Dante asks, “How have you hidden your shapeshifting for so long?”
His query sounds like an accusation. “I haven’t hidden it. Icannotshapeshift; the same way Icannotcontrol Fae magic.”
“And why is that?”
I lick the salt of the sea and the frustration of my impotence off my lips. “My magic was bound in utero.”
