He stands on the threshold of our house, and at his back . . .
My heart trips over itself at the same time as a whinny cuts across the torchlit air.
Thirty-Three
The gold silk of the dress I’ve yet to slip out of snaps around my legs as I race to the front door. I’m about to burst out onto the street and throw my arms around Furia’s neck when I freeze.
The horse behind Gabriele is dun-colored, not black, and scrawny in girth and height, with vines laced around his muzzle and neck that it keeps trying to shake off. It lifts its head as I approach, nostrils flaring and brown eyes widening in alarm.
No, not eyes.Eye. Singular. The other socket is concave.
What’s happened to this poor animal?
“That’s not my stallion, Gabriele.” I don’t reach out, unsure of why he’s come to my door with this horse.
“I’m aware.”
The horse whinnies and shakes its head, then rears back and attempts to lift itself onto its hind legs but the soldier who tethered the vines around the animal yanks so hard, it drives the horse down onto its knees.
When the vines begin to dig into the animal’s coat, reminding me of the day Nonna strung Minimus up over the bridge, I pounce forward and smack the soldier’s wrist to clip his magic before he lacerates the frightened horse’s flesh.
“Did you just assault me, Serpent-girl?”
“I tapped your wrist. Hardly an assault, but hey, take it up with your commander if your ego’s bruised.” I hold out my hand for the animal to sniff. When its velvety nose pulses against my palm, I raise my other hand and stroke the areas on his neck not tangled in vines. “Why did you bring me this horse instead of Furia, Gabriele?”
The new commander of the Lucin army shifts on his shiny boots, his gaze running over my hands and the somewhat calmer creature. “Furia fractured his leg on the way down the mountain.”
“He’s been immobilized?”
The soldier I tapped—not hard enough, unfortunately—snorts. “That’s one way of saying it.”
Dread pulses at the back of my throat. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Gabriele’s front teeth sink into his thinner bottom lip. “We had to—we had to—”
Syb frowns. “You had to . . .?”
“I’m sorry, Fallon,” he murmurs. “He was limping. We had no choice.”
My throat burns. “Are you saying—” I swallow to ease the burn, but it only enflames my throat some more. “Are you saying that you put him down?”
Gabriele drops his gaze to the carpet of white and jade marble behind me. “His leg was fractured.”
Heat swamps my lids while the rest of my body is racked by shivers.
“You could’ve brought him to a healer! Or to an earth-Fae who knows their way around poultices.”
Gabriele flinches. “He couldn’t walk.”
The dun horse’s hot, brisk breaths warm my icy fingers. “So what? This horse is supposed to be some sort of consolation prize?”
“No. Dante wanted me to tell you we set Furia free in the mountains, and although we did set his soul free—”
“If animals had souls,” huffs the vine-wielder I am seconds away from pushing into the nearest canal.
“That’s enough!” Gabriele’s cheeks flame with annoyance. “I didn’t want to lie to you, Fallon. It didn’t feel right. As for this filly, I brought her because she’s unfit for the army, and Tavo ordered she be put down. I thought—” He rams a hand through his long, unbound hair that’s acquired quite a few knots. “Maybe I thought wrong, but I thought that maybe you’d like her. That maybe she’d like you.” His throat bumps over another swallow. “You know, because—because . . .”
I do know.Because I’m Shabbin.
