“Butttt . . .” Syb drags out the last letter, dragging out the beats of my heart in turn, “we may be able to get her drunk enough to learn what she knows without spilling blood. How about we invite her to the house—”
“No.” Aoife shakes her head. “Lorcan will not accept.”
“Perhaps he can pay Eponine a visit?” Giana must be biting the life out of her cheek because it dimples. “It would save us all time and energy.”
Or that.
My vigilante’s gaze flits dizzyingly fast around the bow-shaped room as though hunting each polished corner and gilded crevasse for an eavesdropping sprite. “What if trap?”
“Her claim to know where Meriam is?” Sybille glances at Aoife who’s elected to stand in spite of my insistence for her to sit.
Ever since she arrived this afternoon to replace her sister, she has acted incredibly edgy. When I asked if anything was the matter, she shook her head and attempted to smile to put me at ease. But her attempt was paltry and did nothing to quell my worry.
“Invitation to revel. Maybe she hope ambush Lore and Fallon.” Aoife’s paranoia speeds up my pulse.
“She really hates her father, Aoife.” Syb keeps pulsing air against the piano, filling Antoni’s house with the strident cacophony necessary to camouflage our conversation.
“What does hating her father have to do with anything? She can hate himandhate Crows and Shabbins.”
Giana’s retort makes Syb’s jaw clench. “She wouldn’t offer to hand Meriam over if she hated Shabbins.”
“Hand over?” Gia snorts. “Sheclaimsto know the witch’s hideout.”
“Why do you have to be so fucking negative all the time?”
“Realistic, not negative. Besides, if Eponine is such a fan of Crows and Shabbins, why didn’t she go straight to Lorcan with her information? Why come to you?”
“Because Lorcan is fucking terrifying, sis.” Syb all but yanks the strand of hair she’s playing with.
“No move and no invitation until Lorcan is informed of situation, okay?”
Syb rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on heading back to Isolacuori tonight.”
“Will he stop by tonight, Fallon?” Giana’s question tightens my neck.
“Why would I know his schedule?”
Giana stares at the fingers I’m drumming against the armrest. “Aoife, can you shift and ask him through your mind link?”
Aoife nods and shifts, and then her black eyes glaze over, resembling twin billiard balls. Two full minutes later, her feathers melt back into skin. “He no answer. Fallon?”
“Yes?”
She drops her voice. “Can you try?”
I stop tapping the armrest. “Can’t shift, remember?”
“I meant, mate way.” She touches her temple. “Immy says you—”
The sound of Catriona’s porcelain cup clanking into its saucer cuts off Aoife. “You married the Crow King?”
“What?” My cheeks warm from the sudden surplus of blood that swarms into them. “Of course not. Why in the world would you jump to such an absurd conclusion?”
She pushes a blonde strand behind her ear. “Isn’t that what mate means to Crows?”
“You don’t have to be lawfully married to be mates. But that’s beside the point since I’m not Lorcan Ríhbiadh’s mate. I’m not anyone’s mate.” I shake my head with great verve. “If I were, he wouldn’t be getting hitched to another woman, now would he? Crows are very attached to their mates since they only have the one.”
Syb has stopped trouncing the piano with her air magic. I really wish she’d start it up again, if only to drown out the colliding beats of my heart.
