He’s wound awfully tight for someone who spent his night fornicating. I don’t mean to hurl this remark into his mind but that’s where it goes.
Fornicating? You must have me confused with the male whose eye sockets I’m about to hollow.
My neck cracks from how fast I whirl my attention back around to find Antoni staring fixedly at my legs.
“The tides are turning, Greco, so speak your goodbyes quickly.” Lore’s voice slithers off the gray stone, as dark as the cloud he’s slowly turning into. “I wouldn’t want your new vessel to end up docked in Shabbe instead of the Tarecuorin wharf.”
I suck in too much air.Are you threatening them?
I may be possessive of what’s mine, Behach Éan, but you’ll learn I’m not petty.
Says the man ready to spoon out eyeballs. And—once more—I’m not yours.
A beat of silence vibrates between us, rife with many unsaid things.
Your friends would be safer in Shabbe, so it’s hardly a threat.
Giana grips one of my hands and lifts it, clutching it tight. “Promise you’ll behave?”
I’m taken aback by her parting words.
My expression must display my frustration because she sighs, “I know how much you want to leave this place, but please don’t.” Although she speaks quietly, I’ve no doubt the Crows surrounding us can hear her. After all, their hearing is unparalleled. “There’s still so much left to do, and I don’t want to have to worry about you on top of everything.”
Whose side is she on? Clearly, not mine. “Then don’t worry about me.” I tug my hand free.
Her gray eyes flash silver from the sting of my retort.
“Pheebs is staying. He’ll ensure she doesn’t get up to too much trouble.” Sybille tightens her arm around mine before letting go.
“I’m not some rambunctious child,” I mutter.
“Yes, Fallon, you are exactly that.”
My ego splatters at my feet. I may be young in age, but that’s no fault of mine. As for rambunctious—
“What Gia means to say is that you’re spirited and a tad stubborn.” Syb glares at her sister, who merely shrugs a shoulder.
“Take good care of yourself, Fal.” Antoni shifts on the mirror-smooth stone as though debating whether to approach therambunctious child.
I shove away Gia’s hurtful comment. “I’m going to miss you, Antoni.” Although I don’t say it to anger Lorcan, I can sense the Crow King’s discontent through our mental bond.
Gods, to be free of it. . . Will it fade, I wonder, or must I actively work on shielding my thoughts from him?
Two more people arrive. Although the man is a stranger, the woman isn’t.
“Thank you for all your help, Bronwen.” Gia touches the older woman’s shoulder. “I wish you much bliss and happiness with Cian.”
My sour mood momentarily lifts as I follow her gaze to the male at Bronwen’s side—her mate, my uncle.
Granted, Keeann seems as warm as the stone beneath my bare toes, but still . . . I have an uncle.
Who’s married to the woman who led me astray.
She did not lead you astray.
She said I’d rule Luce beside Dante.
She said you’d be queen. She never once mentioned Dante.
