“Thankfully, they’re not allowed inside. Dante has shown himself rather agreeable, all things considered. Although a lot of his agreeableness has to do with the bargains he made us strike.”
“Bargains? What bargains?”
“If we don’t keep our mouths shut about his hand in his brother’s death, we’ll owe him a favor.”
“And you all swore an oath?”
She nods.
I dislike how much power that gives Dante over my friends. “I’m sorry.”
“’Bout what?”
“That you’ve all become outcasts.”
She hoists a shoulder that makes her yellow sleeve dip. “It’s temporary. After enough years of peace, everyone will forget, and life will go back to normal.”
Footsteps echo on a floor made of interlocking squares of white and jade marble.Click. Click. Click.
My eyebrows draw together because it sounds like the gait of a woman in heels, and for as long as I’ve known Gia, she’s never once worn heels.
And Eefah was wearing boots this morning. Unless she changed her footwear; but she, also, doesn’t strike me as a heel-wearer.
Sure enough, it is a woman, and sure enough, that woman is neither Gia nor Eefah. “Welcome to the resistance,micara.”
Twenty-One
The overlapping, papery, crimson folds of Catriona’s dress crinkle as she approaches, her eyes running over my face before wandering lower, over my unfeminine and waterlogged outfit. No wrinkle of disapproval mars the smooth skin between her brows.
I side-eye Sybille, who gives my fingers a squeeze before murmuring out of the corner of her mouth, “The upside-down poppy here has decided to aid our cause.”
I didn’t think my eyebrows could arch any higher but they now skim my hairline. Granted, I wasn’t endowed with a very tall forehead to begin with.
I pull my fingers out of Syb’s to peel the rain-dampened shirt stuck to my chest. “Catriona used the wordresistance. What are we resisting?”
“Caste tyranny. Fae dominion.” The courtesan halts centimeters from where Syb and I stand, on the threshold of another glorious room, this one boasting a split stairwell that could fit ten fully-grown males holding hands.
“Are you working for Lorcan?” I tow my gaze back to Catriona’s.
“No.” Her rouged mouth tightens, forming concentric parentheses around their corners. I take it she’s no fan of the Crows. But if she’s no fan of the new king and resisting the other king, then where does she stand?
At my frown, Syb explains, “We’re working for humans. We’re working to make Rax safer and salubrious. Lorcan is funding our cause because of a deal Antoni struck with Bronwen ages ago.”
I remember Sybille mentioning something about her sister and Antoni’s illicit activities in Racocci. I also remember Antoni discussing cutting dust with that Fae guard that very same night.
“What deal?” I finally ask.
“He hasn’t shared it with us.” Although Syb’s voice doesn’t waver, there’s something in her expression that gives me pause.
I am so well versed in all things Syb that I deduce she knows everything about Antoni’s deal but Catriona does not. Does my friend not trust Catriona’s intent? Personally, I find the courtesan’s enthusiasm to help humans a tad odd considering how readily she transformed the shape of her ears with pointy jewels and how poorly she would address the Amaris’ Racoccin maid, Flora.
Deciding to press Syb for details once we’re alone, I ask instead, “And no Fae is aware of yourresistance?”
“Oh, they’re fully aware of our voyages to Rax to ferry over food and construction materials to build them sturdier abodes.” Catriona’s shoulder-length locks glitter gold in the faelight spilling off a decadent candelabra mounted with multihued tourmalines.
Syb rolls her eyes. “We?Youknocked on our dooryesterday.Youhave not traveled to Rax yet.”
“I offered to come, but Antoni insisted he and his companions had everything handled, and that you and I should shop for provisions to make this mansion homier.” Catriona nods to the house, her gaze stroking over each cornice and cut stone before leveling back on my face. “The estate used to belong to the marquess Ptolemy Timeus. I heard you two were well acquainted, Fallon.”
