I may still detest my situation but at least, now, I understand the reason I’m caged. “So once the wards fall, I’ll be free?”
The two males exchange a loaded look that makes my vertebrae click into a straight line.
Don’t keep me in the dark. Not after all I’ve done. Not only is it unfair but it’s also unkind.
“Once you’ve undone my curse for good, you’ll be . . . free.”
His hesitation makes me wonder what type of freedom he’s alluding to.FYI, I don’t consider death a form of freedom.
There’ll be no dying.Lorcan’s sullen mood gentles the slightest bit.I promise, Behach Éan.
I nod, somewhat appeased. There’s still the subject of curses and breakers of curses—aka, me. “What did you mean by,for good?”
My father is still toweling his fingers even though I suspect no wine lingers. “Before you were born—before you were even conceived—Bronwen foresaw Daya and I having a daughter who’d possess the power to break the Crows’ obsidian curse forever.”
I gape. “That’s why you called me the curse-breaker? Not because Iunstaked you.”
Correct.
Wow. So much for believing myself powerless and useless. “And do tell, how will I swing this curse-breaking?”
Lorcan sighs. “Bronwen hasn’t yet seen how you’ll do it.”
“Let me get this straight. You plan on keeping me in the Sky Kingdom until Bronwen gets a vision?”
Yes.
“What if she onlyseeshow I break your curse in like, six decades from now?”
“We were trapped for five hundred years, Fallon. And then again for twenty—”
“I’m not spending the best years of my life trapped in a cavern in the clouds, away from civilization.”
Lore releases a muted snort. “Are we not civilized enough for your taste?”
I joggle my head.
My father doesn’t seem to mind my comment as much as Lorcan, because what he plucks out from all I said is: “The best years?”
“Unlike you, I’m not immortal.” My origin smacks me upside the head. “Or am I?”
“As long as your magic is bound”—the Crow King gazes toward the glassed-in openings that overlook the dense spill of the Racoccin woods—“you are not immortal.”
My father swallows, probably because my unfortunate state reminds him of my mother and her bound magic. “Another reason you must stay here,ínon. No harm can come to you up here.”
“No harm, perhaps, but also no good,” I mutter, calculating how many slippers I’ll go through pacing these stone hallways. “I will grow dottier than a Fae high on sprite urine.” At Kahol’s rumpled brow, I add, “I’ve not tried it; I was merely told about its effect. Besides, I’m not Fae so pee probably wouldn’t affect me. What will affect me, though, is being trapped up here. I’ll develop highland fever. You do not want that. Trust me. Ask my friends. They’ll tell you how impossible and maddening I can become.”
Come to think of it, losing my mind may incite them to toss me from their nest . . .
My predicament draws a smirk to Lorcan’s lips. “It is not your predicament that amuses me, Fallon, but your thought process.”
Kahol makes a choking sound, and his face reddens . . . purples. Oh, Cauldron, what did he ingest?
“Lorcan!” I yell because Lore’s ass is still in his seat.
Kahol lurches to his feet so suddenly that it topples his bench. The bang thuds as loudly as the frenzied beats of my heart as I also leap to my feet, ready to vault over the table and pump his chest. I’ve only just found the man. I cannot lose him to—to—
I scan the food platter to figure out what he could’ve eaten . . . an asparagus? A carrot? I cannot lose my father to a vegetable.
