I return my attention to Giana. “I’m uncertain as to what I want.” Well, besides rewinding this entire evening. This entire week.
I wish Mamma had never mentioned Bronwen and that I never went looking for her, because the blind woman’s managed to both befuddle and unsettle me. Could I, a halfling, lawfully become Dante’s bride thanks to a treasure hunt?
Bronwen asked me not to speak of my quest or of her, but she didn’t specifically tell me I couldn’t ask about bird statues.
I lift my eyes to the twinkling sky. “Gia, do any blacksmiths in the kingdom work with iron?”
She tucks her chin into her neck. “Only the one in Isolacuori, who supplies steel blades to the military.”
My pulse skips. Bronwen said the iron bird was in Isolacuori. Could it be in that man’s forge?
“Why?”
I frown as an inconsistency hits me. Only pure-blooded faeries can live on Isolacuori, but faeries can’t handle iron. “The blacksmith is Fae?”
“No. He’s human. Fae can’t touch iron.”
“A human lives on Isolacuori?”
“Like a king. Generation after generation.” Her eyes narrow. “Why the sudden interest in blacksmiths?”
A skein of teal-feathered ducks takes off behind her, water collapsing like dropped diamonds from their wings, spattering the serpent who disturbed their rest.
“Maybe I want a weapon? A girl should have one on her person, shouldn’t she?”
Giana’s voice drops to a hard whisper. “Did Dargento hurt you?”
I startle that she drew that conclusion. “No. I promise he didn’t.”
“What’s going on over here?” Antoni sidles in beside us.
“Nothing,” I mumble at the same time as Giana says, “Fallon wants a weapon. Anironweapon.”
I snag the inside of my cheek with my teeth. Why did she have to go and tell him? Instead of making a big deal of it, I say, “Fine. Yes. I’d feel safer.”
Antoni looks at Giana. After a pregnant pause, his gaze returns to me. “The possession of anything made of iron is an instant death sentence. And considering your history with serpents, they wouldn’t make you walk the plank.”
“I’m aware. It was a stupid idea.” One that led me nowhere. Or rather, to Isolacuori, where I need to go anyway. “Can you both please forget it?”
They exchange another lengthy stare that makes me arch a brow because it feels laced with more than just concern; it feels laced with connivance and secrets.
Riccio and Mattia amble over to us, chattering boisterously about their human conquests. Riccio slugs freckle-faced Mattia on the back. He must be teasing his cousin because Mattia’s forever sunburnt face appears ruddier than usual.
“How about we go inside for a nightcap?” Giana hooks the golden chain around her neck, lifting the tavern key tucked inside the bodice of her dress.
Riccio and Mattia readily agree and follow her.
Antoni cants his head to the side. “What would you like to do, Fallon?”
If I go home now, I’ll run into Nonna, who’ll sense my turmoil and confront me, and that woman knows me inside-out. If I loiter about another hour or two, the odds of her being asleep will be higher.
Wait . . .Antoni wasn’t suggesting walking me home, was he?
I smooth my clammy palms down my skirt. “I’m not ready to go home.” Neither to his, nor to mine.
He nods to the tavern. “After you, then.”
I stride ahead of him, the mud on the hem of my dress weighing down the fabric.
