My chest prickles every time she tells me, not out of jealousy, but out of disappointment that my one and only experience was so . . . disenchanting.
However hard I attempt to repress the thought, I cannot keep myself from wondering if Dante didn’t bother pleasuring me because I wasn’t worth the effort. After all, he neither needed to impress nor seduce me.
I shake these glum thoughts out of my mind as Aoife explains how to conjugate verbs in the present tense.
As she dips the pen in the ink well, I finally cave and ask, “Have the missing Crows still not been located, Aoife?”
“They were found long time ago.”
Both of us startle at the answer. I’m guessing not for the same reasons.
She slaps her palm over her mouth. “Me and big mouth.”
If they’ve been found, then why hasn’t Lore returned like he promised he would? Well, more like threatened he would. Why hasn’t he answered any of the questions I’ve tossed into his mind? Why hasn’t he let me mind-walk? Gods know I’ve tried.
I swipe the tip of my tongue over my teeth, reasoning that he’s possiblyjustfound them. Done with assumptions, I ask, “When?”
“When what?”
“When did he find them?”
“I not supposed to discuss Crow matters here.” She crinkles her nose.
“Here or with me?”
“Here. You Crow, so you fine to hear.”
Although it warms my heart that she, unlike her sister, considers me one of them, I cannot help but lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “When were they found, Aoife?”
“Why matters?”
“Please tell me when.”
She sighs. “The night they disappear.”
Her confession loosens the knot of my arms, making them flop onto the armrests.
That was . . . that was five days ago!
I grip the wood so hard, it’s a wonder I don’t pulverize it like Lore did to my bedroom armchair the night I—
The night I thought—
The night I—
Gods, I cannot even think of that night without wanting to scream.
Aoife’s brow furrows. “Why so upset, Fallon?” Her voice is soft like Marcello’s when he was trying to lead Sybille away from the brink of a tantrum.
Although I’d prefer to worry about him and Defne, my mind and heart are wholly focused on Lore.
Since I cannot tell Aoife about hispromisethreat of a long talk, I say, “I just expected him to check on Antoni and the rest of the rebels, that’s all.”
“Oh. He busy in Glace. Finaling alliance.” Again, she smacks her palm across her mouth. “Shoot. I not supposed to talk about that, too.”
After starting and stopping a great many times, my heart turns quiet. What is it they say about insanity? Oh right, it’s doing the same thing twice while expecting a different outcome.
I fell for Dante, and he jilted me. I will not fall for another man whose promises and actions diverge.
