Finally, Mamma stops rocking, stops repeating the word leave. She looks up at her mother and parts her mouth. Nonna helps her drink the sour berry tea, running a knuckle over Mamma’s chin to catch renegade droplets.
As though it held actual magic, the concoction soothes my mother and weighs down her lids. Her lashes, burnt umber like her thin brows, lower. I think she’s about to fall asleep when her eyes flare and set on me.
“May the winds carry you safely home.” And then her lids plummet, and she leans her cheek against the pillow Nonna propped behind her head.
Nonna and I blink at each other. It’s the first time Mamma has articulated a full sentence. At least, the first time I’ve heard one.
“Did she—did Mamma just—” My mind reels with her strange blessing, because that’s what it was, right?
“She did.”
“Have you ever heard her say . . .that?”
“When she was pregnant with you, I caught her whispering it to the sky. I assumed she was wishing your father a safe passage to wherever he’d sailed off to. I once confronted her about it. She told me we were all allowed our secrets.” Nonna’s lips thin as she stares between me and her resting child.
I think of the bargain Nonna struck with my grandfather, but speaking of it will necessitate an explanation as to how I found out, and she looks haggard enough. “You think my father was a sailor?Isa sailor?”
“I don’t know, Fallon. She never did tell. I just know she met him during one of her trips to Rax. She used to go there every day to succor the needy.” Nonna smooths Mamma’s hair. “She had such a big heart. Wanted to save everyone and their sprite.”
“Has. She has such a big heart. She’s not gone, Nonna.”
“A part of her is.” Nonna sighs, staring down into the mug of tea as though to divine Mamma’s future like Beryl does every time I brew her a cup of coffee.
Although her tales are always entertaining, she’s never envisioned me as a queen. Then again, why would she? I’m but a lowly halfling. How glad I am that she’s a conniving siren instead of a demonic one.
“Why did Dante’s friend drop you off?” Nonna’s offhand comment blows my mind off Beryl.
Did she also see my port of departure? I wait for her to say more. She doesn’t make me wait long.
“What were you doing in the barracks?”
“Dante invited me over for a visit.”
She squeezes the bridge of her nose. “And you went?”
“I did.”
Her disapproval is as pungent as the smell of rowan berries. “Goccolina . . .”
Before she can call me a fool or whatnot, I blurt out, “You know where else I went today? To Isolacuori.”
The mug falls from Nonna’s hands and shatters in thick, sharp pieces. What little pinkish liquid remained flows between the shards and her slippers. The sound makes Mamma jump but somehow doesn’t wake her.
Nonna’s mouth opens. Shuts. Opens. Her irises darken as suddenly as the Racoccin forest during storm season. “Ptolemy . . .” The name of the marquess comes out no louder than the steam from our teapot.
Since I’m still on my knees, I gather the pieces of the mug, careful not to let the infusion stain the pretty pastel fabric of my dress. “He told the king about my sympathy toward the serpents, and the latter demanded a hearing.”
“And . . .?”
I layer the chunks of ceramic inside my palm like fallen rose petals and look up at her. “And King Marco would like me to use my gift to bring peace between land and sea dwellers.”
Horror rearranges Nonna’s lovely features, giving her the air of someone older. “You told him about your gift?”
“Of course not, Nonna. Besides, I don’t even know if I actually have one.”
“Was Justus—”
“Yes.”
