His mouth, which was ajar, ready to deliver his wisdom, snaps closed, and his nostrils pulse the balmy air. For a moment, he stares at me, his pupils throbbing in irate astonishment. Then he leans over and clasps the nape of my neck. “You’re playing with fire, Fallon.”
My skin crawls beneath his tightening grip. “Unlike you, I have no fire to play with, Silvius. Now, unhand me.”
“Commander.” He gives my neck a harsh squeeze to convey his displeasure before finally removing his hand and straightening. “I’m neither your friend nor your equal.”
“Cauldron forbid.”
A nerve feathers his temple. He’s right. I am playing with fire.Hisfire, and since I’ve no water to put it out or crown on my brow, it’s a perilous game.
A low keening followed by a hearty splash has my head spinning sideways. Parallel to the boat, a large pink body dives in and out of the jeweled sea like a needle gliding through fabric. My heart climbs into my throat, skidding farther when I catch white bands of flesh amidst the pink.
Minimus. I give my head the minutest of shakes, the wordhideteetering on the tip of my tongue.
Silvius follows my line of sight to the ivory horn threading in and out of the great blue. “That’s right. You only play with serpents.” My airway tightens when Silvius turns his simpering gaze back on me and adds, “Scarred, pink ones.”
Twenty-Six
As we approach the gilded isle with its metal pontoon and verdant flora, Silvius’s threat clangs between my temples. If he so much as lays a finger on Minimus—
“The jewel of Luce.” The commander’s amber gaze is finally turned away from the ocean that hides my pink beast. “Home to our venerable king and his esteemed general.”
My thoughts veer off one loathsome male and onto another. I’ve never considered myself a particularly resentful person, especially toward strangers, yet I simmer with rage as the man who carved my mother’s ears and crushed my grandmother’s faith in men, comes into focus.
Justus Rossi stands on the lustrous dock, hands linked behind his back, rigid body casting a long shadow over six guards. As I behold the monster garbed in burgundy and gold, I never wished so hard to be a changeling.
Silvius leans over to whisper. “Look who awaits, Fallon.”
Without breaking eye contact with my grandfather, I deadpan, “Signorina Rossi. Like you said, Commander, we’re neither friends nor equals.”
I don’t miss his staggered swallow over the wavelets lapping at the hull. “Think of your monster, Fallon. Think of him next time you address me with such impertinence.”
I grit my teeth at his threat but don’t bite out an answer for Minimus’s sake. The day my station is above Silvius’s cannot come soon enough. Oh, the vengeance I’ll seek. First, I’ll strip him naked on the Tarelexian wharf so his body can be stared at like boxed goods and touched inappropriately, and then, once his shame is complete, I’ll toss him to Minimus.
The boat slows and pivots, then glides expertly into its berth, the bulwark never making contact with the stone embankment. If only I possessed the ability to control my element . . . I’d steer the boat away. Perhaps even make it tip.
Justus runs me over from forehead to toe. I do the same.
He’s broader and taller than I imagined from the few sightings I’ve had of him over the years, with frighteningly severe features and hair the color of burnt orange rind, a darker shade than Mamma’s, threaded with silver strands that reveals the century of life he has on Nonna. He wears his locks in a strict ponytail, and although he faces me, I’ve no doubt the ends of it skim the bottommost edge of the gold baldric holding a jeweled sword.
My grandmother isn’t a soft person, not in character and not in behavior, but in comparison to this man, who’s yet to even speak, she’s all petal and syrup.
“Good afternoon, General.” Silvius stalks away from me, white slacks barely creasing when he lunges up onto the quay.
Justus doesn’t acknowledge him. I own his full attention, even though I’d gladly share it.
Two other soldiers on the vessel step onto the platform, leaving me alone with the faerie driver.
Justus and Silvius watch me, urging me to stand without asking, which is the reason I don’t. I may be a bastard mixed breed, but I’m not a spineless subject. If they want me to stand, they must ask. And if I want to stand, then I will.
Our stare-off lasts forty-three seconds. I count them.
Silvius breaks first. “Signorina Rossi, please proceed onto the quay.”
I glance from my grandfather to the commander, whose posture is as taut as a bow string and yet whose face ripples with nerves. Incredible how the presence of a superior can impact even the greatest brute’s composure.
“Signorina Rossi, did my command not reach your ears?” Silvius all but growls.
“Hmm. Which one? You give many.”
