“Let me go, Lore,” I growl.
Suddenly, as though someone is reversing time, Phoebus’s body lifts. It’s only when I see the giant bird pinned beneath his torso, levering him back onto solid ground, that I stop fighting Lorcan’s hold and allow my heart to squeeze back down my throat and into its original cavity.
The second Lorcan’s clinch slackens and the Crow that saved Phoebus soars high, I snap forward and fling my arms around my friend’s neck, dragging his big, trembling body down to mine. He’s crying, great, racking sobs that paint the whites of his eyes red.
In that moment, I do something I never imagined myself capable of—something I loathed Lorcan for when he did it to me—I take the decision to stay in Luce out of his hands.Take him back. I cannot lose him. I cannot—My mind’s voice splinters.
Connor will carry him home, Behach Éan.Lorcan must pour the command into his fellow Crow’s mind because the mammoth bird who saved Phoebus from a dip in the ocean swoops low.
Before Phoebus is snatched away from me for Cauldron only knows how long, I cup his wet cheeks and kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”
He jerks his head free from my palms. “You’re leaving?”
“No, Pheebs, you are.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Fallon—”
But it’s too late. Connor hooks gleaming talons around Phoebus’s belt and lifts him.
“Fallon! How could you?” he yells. “How could you?!” His body shrinks, becoming no larger than the yellow balloon Nonna gifted me on one of my birthdays and which slipped from my cake-speckled fingers on our way home from the tavern where the Amaris had treated me to a frosted concoction, ablaze with rainbow candles.
Your turn.
I lower my head and lids. “Not yet. I have to find Syb and the others.” I keep my grandmother’s name out of my thoughts. I cannot let him see my true intent, or he will whisk me back to his castle and toss away the key.
His citrine eyes gleam as his insubstantial form gains substance.
When the dark cloud of a man coalesces into one made of flesh, I hiss, “Shift back. You’re a sitting duck.”
“Crow, actually. Not the same genus.”
I gape at him. “I really don’t think now’s the time to debate avian species.”
A small smile slides onto his mouth as he turns toward Dante. “Good afternoon, Regio. Apologies for dropping by unannounced. With a Crow sentry, no less. I didn’t think I’d have to intervene, but your men are decidedly lousy listeners.”
An abrasive guffaw escapes through Tavo’s parted lips. “The gall of the—”
“Tavo, please head back to the castle.” Dante’s ship doesn’t wade closer. Because he fears the male standing beside me, or is it the zigzagging serpents that make him keep his distance?
Although they’ve calmed, the beautiful beasts haven’t swam off, as though waiting for my command to disperse.
To think I can—sort of—command beasts.
“Mind taking the former commander with you, Diotto?” Lorcan’s charcoal-streaked face swings in the direction of Dargento, who takes a nominal step back. “I fear Fallon, who is most wily and stubborn, will obliterate our armistice should he keep hovering.”
I snort.With what weapon?
Me.He adds a wink that is so at odds with this entire situation—this entire day—that I cannot smother the grin that lifts my cheeks.I hear I’m a skilled butcher.
I wrinkle my nose.
Dante must’ve given Dargento the order to embark with Diotto because he hops into the berthed boat.
In spite of Silvius’s vindictive stare, my pulse slows as they navigate away from the shore. “You should go. I hear Crows aren’t allowed beyond the Racoccin woods.”
“Their king is allowed everywhere.” His gaze tracks the gondola’s trajectory.
“Will the Crow who airlifted Phoebus get into trouble?”
