The moonlight slashes Lore’s face, painting it white and black and gold. I cannot tell what he’s thinking and shift my gaze away before I can fall into his mind. I’m done smudging the lines between us.
I catch the twitch of his fingers and the metallic nails elongating from his cuticles. “I heard you had questions for me.”
“You heard wrong.”
“So you aren’t interested in finding out if Lazarus freed your grandmother?”And if Eponine can be trusted?
I side-eye him. “Dante mentioned you’re not holding him accountable. Have you changed your tune?”
“No.”
Although not overly anxious, I’m reassured to hear that Lazarus hasn’t betrayed the Crows. Hasn’t betrayedme.
“As for your second query—”
“I don’t have a second query.”
“I’ll come find you to discuss it once my meeting with Antoni adjourns.” Lore backs away before melting into the shadows.
My jaw aches from how hard I clench my teeth. How relentless can one person be?
Once Arina has settled, I head up to my bedroom and attempt to sleep, but every creak outside my door makes me startle, every brush of a branch against my window ignites my pulse.
I end up lying awake all night—for nothing since Lore never shows—and yawning through the next day. Although I wonder what Antoni and he discussed, when I ask the sailor over supper the following night, he remains tight-lipped.
And moody. Gods, he is moody. He mustn’t have gotten much sleep either.
I trail after him when he leaves the dining table, and Aoife trails after me, but she’s kind enough to keep her distance.
“Antoni, stop.”
He keeps pounding up the stairs.
“Godsdamnit, Antoni.”
He finally stops and spins around. It’s so sudden that I smack into his chest. His hand snares my bicep, keeping me from tumbling down the stairs and breaking my neck.
“Do you really care so little about me?” His rough murmur scrapes across my furrowed brow.
“What? Why would you ask that? Why would you even think such a thing?” I stare into the blue depths of his eyes and catch the hard shine of his frustration.
“Because, Fallon. Because.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, inspecting the waning crystal on my hoop.
“Because what?”
His touch is warm yet gentle in spite of his many calluses, which, unlike mine, have not begun to soften. Probably because of his Racoccin activities that I so wish he’d share with me.
“Let me come to Rax. Let me help.”
His Adam’s apple rolls up and down twice before he says, “Ríhbiadh would kill me, wouldn’t he, Aoife?” He doesn’t break our stare as he addresses my Crow guard.
Her lack of answer is answer enough.
I grit my teeth. “I wouldn’t let him.”
His lids slide shut, and his hands drop away from my body.
“Antoni, please let me help.”
