Lore rises from the bed in one fluid movement that has all his muscles rippling, and then he’s walking toward me, hard cock bobbing, and the bruised walls of my reproductive organs clench and dampen.
It would really help if you could shift into your crows right now.
How would it help?When he reaches me, he’s still in skin, and I’m still helpless to move.
“It would help me concentrate on what I’m supposed to do,” I mumble.
He slides a bent knuckle under my chin to tilt my head, then presses a kiss to my already parted lips.Your father is still standing in front of your door. He knows there’s only one place I’d be, and that’s right here, with you, Behach Éan.
My gaze shoots to the studded wood that suddenly seems too thin.
He’ll stay out, for there are some sights a father prefers not to see.
I tow my gaze back to Lore’s.
I advised him to stroll the hallway and reflect on how lenient I was with him when Daya finally accepted their mating bond.
The reminder of my mother crushes my crackling nerves. “I hope she’s alive.”
Although Lore’s golden gaze drifts to the door, I don’t think he’s seeing it. “I hope so, too, Little Bird.”
It strikes me that it’s the first time he’s sounded unsure of her fate, and his uncertainty carries Gabriele’s words to the forefront of my mind.
She cannot be dead.
Iwillher not to be dead.
* * *
Showering takes longerthan expected because, after cleaning me, Lore dirties me anew. I hadn’t thought my body could take it—takehim—but apparently my body can endure a lot. And enthusiastically, at that.
It’s laughable that I feared having sex with this man.
As I finish tying on a pair of high-waisted, pearlescent pants over a snug white top that feels woven from clouds, I find myself grinning and impatient to wake Phoebus to tell him how wrong he was about kings being selfish in the sack.
My smile wanes when I remember that Sybille won’t take part in this conversation.
Since Lore is keeping my father company, I’m not awash with guilt when I take a few extra minutes to tidy up my room. I make the bed until it looks less battlefield and more place of slumber, then do away with the tell-tale battle Lore waged against my dress, discarding it in the laundry chute instead of the wastebasket. Even if I don’t succeed in mending it, I want to hold onto it, for objects contain memories.
Like Mamma’s rock . . .
My fingers close around air because the engraved rock sits in Antoni’s home. Although it exists in the same land as I, it feels an ocean away. As far from me as the two Rossi women I miss with all my heart. I touch the window, watching as dawn pinkens the horizon and gilds the Queendom of Shabbe.
Though I wish they were here with me, I’m grateful they’re safely tucked behind the wards, for war is coming. It hangs over Luce like the mist rolling off the gray rock of Lore’s mountain. I spend a second longer gazing at the sun rising over the distant pink shores before finally exiting my bedchamber to face my father.
He and Lore stand in the hallway, discussing something in low tones. I read their bodies to decipher the current mood. My father’s posture is stiff, his features tight. Although Lore isn’t quite as relaxed as he was after our shower, when he senses me approach, he raises a smile.
My father’s dark gaze tracks my approach. “Good morning, daughter,” he says in Crow.
“Álo,Dádhi,” I reply in his tongue.
A weary smile crimps the corners of his mouth and eyes. He may have retired early, but the shadows smudging his blackened eyes speak of a short night, perhaps even shorter than my own.
“So, where are we off to?”
“Moath’Thábhain.”
Mof hawben.My mind manages to translate the second word:tavern. I’m unsure what the first one means, though.
