Aoife regards me a long time from beneath lowered lashes. “Fallon says truth. No Crow with mate would marry other person.”
“What happens if a Crow gets a mate after he or she marries?” Although I doubt Syb’s asked this to take the heat off me, I cannot help but feel grateful.
Aoife’s lips crook with a forlorn smile. “They will always choose mate.”
Syb’s lips pop as wide as her gray eyes. “So they will leave whoever they married?”
“Yes. Very sad, but is impossible for mates to live apart.” Her dark gaze returns to me, and although I haven’t known Aoife all that long, I don’t miss the quizzical look she ferries my way.
The one that says:I’m not convinced, but I’ll play along for now.Or that is not what her eyes say at all and I’m merely being paranoid.
Wanting to steer the conversation away from the subject of mates for good, I ask, “What are your thoughts on the gilding revel, Catriona?”
“It may be tedious, but the party favors will surely be worth our yawns.”
Syb’s eyes glitter as though she were already unwrapping some precious trinket.
Giana gets to her feet. “I think you’d be a fool to risk your life for a partyora party favor.”
“Why don’t you go murder someone else’s buzz,” Syb grumbles.
“Instead of calling your sister and Fallon fools, you should applaud them both, for it takes courage to join a battle.” Catriona says this pleasantly enough, but I don’t miss the irritation fragrancing her tone like rose oil fragrances her skin.
“Is it courage that also brought you to our doorstep?” Gia flings back her way.
Catriona lowers her gaze to her hands, which she is wringing in her lap. “No.” Her glossy mouth puckers before smoothing. “It’s cowardice.”
The woman, who’s always filledBottom of the Jugwith her jubilance and beauty, seems suddenly so small, as though the brocade couch upon which she sits is gobbling her up, one kilo of flesh and satin at a time.
After Giana leaves toclean the kitchen since no one else can be bothered, I go sit beside Catriona and gather her hands in mine. A shudder goes through her at my touch.
“You’re not a coward. Cowards don’t willingly join a bunch of outlaws.” I will the drooping corners of her lips to lift, but all my words do is filch a tear from the woman’s mossy eyes.
Catriona squeezes my hands once before slipping them from my grip and getting to her feet. “Time for me to retire.”
I know her well enough to realize that it isn’t fatigue that tows her from the room but modesty.
She pauses in the doorway, one dainty hand clasping the sculpted wooden frame, the other kneading the skin over her heart—or rather, rumpling the sky-blue satin of her halter dress. “I may disagree with Gia often and on everything, but perhaps you should—” Her throat jolts with a swallow that makes her lids slam shut and her nostrils flare.
“I should what, Catriona?”
“Perhaps you should head back to Monteluce,micara.” Her voice is no more than a choked whisper. “Perhaps you should keep yourself hidden until Meriam is found.”
As she rips her hand away from the frame, I don’t miss how hard her jaw contracts and how energetically she massages her chest—like someone reneging on a claimed bargain. Except no dot—that I’m aware of—glows on her chest. I would’ve noticed one considering her propension for low-cut, sheer frocks.
Which, come to think of it, she hasn’t been wearing . . .
The doorbell chimes before I can ask Syb what she thinks. Because the hour is late and the boys all have keys, my heart jounces into my throat.
“I go check who here. Wait.” Aoife pivots sharply.
After she leaves the room, Syb asks, “Was it me or was Catriona acting really strange?”
Goosebumps pebble my skin. “She totally was.”
Before we can dissect what could be the matter with our blonde housemate, Aoife’s voice plinks off the glass and jade stone entrance hall. “Fallon! For you.”
Frowning, I rise to my feet in time with Syb and head out of the living room. Aoife shifts to the side, revealing Gabriele.
