“Of course, sire. I’ll get one of my lads to watch over them.” She whistles, and a young boy in patched-up blue coveralls pops out of what I assume is the kitchen. “Orian, see to our guests’ horses.”
Tavo sizes him up with a hiked-up lip. “Not much meat on this one. Are you certain he’s big enough to fend off potential thieves?”
The woman winds a protective arm around her youngling’s neck. “There are no thieves in this part of the kingdom, signore.”
Even though she’s two heads shorter than Tavo, she holds herself with such dignity that she wins my full admiration.
Tavo mutters, “You’re lucky. Our side of Tareluce is infested with filchers.” He looks straight at me as he says it.
I narrow my eyes. What exactly is he accusing me of having stolen? The crows? You can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to the person who had it. “Just mortals trying to survive, Tavo.”
“What about beds and baths?” Dante asks, probably to defuse the tension.
“We have three rooms available. Do you suppose that will suffice? Otherwise—”
“We’ll make it work.” Dante drops a heavy arm around my shoulders and reels me into the crook of his body. Unlike in the past, my body goes as rigid as a day-old corpse.
I don’t say anything as the little boy goes out to our horses and the matron of the house bustles about, clearing the end of one table by shoving diners off benches. Once we’re seated, though, I hover my mouth by Dante’s stud-lined ear. “One of those rooms will be mine.Onlymine.”
“You must be watched.” He grabs a bread roll from the fabric basket a serving girl deposited between the four of us.
Even though my appetite is nonexistent, I take a piece of bread and chomp into it as though it were an apple. “Afraid I’ll make off with your enemy and your crown?” I throw him a saccharine smile.
He stiffens so suddenly that his bones creak as he shifts his torso toward me.
I drop the fake smile and the attitude, and concentrate on the bread, which is delicious and fills one of the holes inside of me. “Luckily for you, I’m uninterested in the Lucin crown.”
To plug more of the holes the prince and the Crow have torn, I think of everything I love, everything I’ll get back once this is over—Phoebus’s squishy heart, Sybille’s contagious laughter, Nonna’s unwavering affection, Mamma’s fiery hair, the crackle of old books, the sweet tartness of berries, the temper of storms, the color of rainbows, the sparkle of stars, the fragrance of the ocean.
I’m sorry, Behach Éan.
I slip more bread between my lips, then chase it down with some water.Don’t hurt the boy tending to the horses.
His answer seems to take forever to reach me:I would never hurt a child.
A pitcher of faerie wine arrives, along with another basket of fresh rolls. And then the food. Although Nonna taught me manners, I heap vegetables and stewed grains onto my plate and dig in before the prince has even served himself.
Stomach blissfully full, I ball my napkin on the table and rise. “I’ll see you in the morning. Wake me when it’s time to leave.”
Tavo shakes the empty bottle of wine over his glass. “Fetch us another jug before you leave, eh.”
Is he speaking to me?
He glances past the girl straddling his lap, seemingly perplexed by the fact that I haven’t done his bidding. “Oh, right . . . I forgot to add the magic word.Pefavare.”
As though tagging apleaseonto his demand makes his request more palatable . . . “I know this may be confusing, what with this being a tavern and me working in one back home, but I’m not employed by these kind folks.” I keep my voice low enough not to stoke up any gossip fires. “But I’ll ask Rosa for one on my way up.”
Rosa is the grown daughter of our hostess. Together with her mother and four younger brothers, they run the inn her half-blooded father built before he ran off with a Tarespagian pure-blood. I learned all of this from a loose-tongued neighbor, who’s been scooting closer and closer to our group since we sat down.
Tavo’s been jesting that the man will end up climbing atop Gabriele’s lap if his friend doesn’t set boundaries, but Gabriele is affable, and although he doesn’t strike me as someone who’ll let another walk all over him, much less sit all over him, he’s kept his elbows firmly atop the table.
I stroll away with reinvigorated spirits. “Hey, Rosa, my lovely companions would like another jug of wine.”
Rosa, who’s three years older than I am—again, a fact I learned from our chatty dinner companion—glances over at them, then back at me. “I’ll bring one over. Do you need anything, milady?”
I startle at being called milady when my ears are as round as hers. “Fallon.” At her frown, I add, “That’s my name. As for whether I need anything, if you could show me to a bedroom and bath, I’d be eternally grateful.”
She smiles and grabs a filled jug that she carries over to my riding party. Dante glances away from me long enough to thank her, but then his chary gaze is back on me. It would be a lie to say I don’t miss the way he used to look at me, but that gondola has sailed.
