“Like Bronwen said, Zendaya tethered us all, which means she’s alive, Dádhi.”
“I heard.” My father’s eyes are dark, made even more so by the heavy fringe of soot-colored lashes and the shadows that pool inside at my use of her first name.
I’m aware she made me, and therefore I should think of her as my mother, but I cannot. Not yet.
“Until I look upon her with my own eyes, understand that I will contain my enthusiasm.”
“If she were dead, then I would be as well.”
“So says the witch who doomed our people,” he grumbles.
Bronwen sighs out my father’s name, which wins her a pointed glower.
“I understand your reluctance to believe Justus. I truly do, but Meriam isn’t the villain we’ve painted her out to be. She’s just as much a victim of Costa Regio as the rest of us.”
One set of white eyes, one set of gold, and several sets of wary, coal-lined ones observe me. “Yes, shecreated the wards, but it was to keep Priya out of Luce. She feared her mother would try and separate her from her Faerie lover. Apparently, the Queen of Shabbe wasn’t fond of the match.”
“She was not,” Bronwen murmurs. “Priya reviled the man who fathered me.”
I tuck a salt-hardened strand of hair behind my ear. “Locking up Shabbe was Costa’s idea.”
Imogen hikes up one of her black eyebrows. “Was it also his idea to give a runestone to the Glacin and Nebban kings?” Her voice, though thin, is back.
“No. It was Marco’s.” Justus scrapes a hand across his brow. “He used them to fetch himself an enduring alliance.”
I stare in the direction of Nebba, at the stretch of ocean that resembles molten silver in the aftermath of the storm. “We have to retrieve them.”
“We already have the piece that was in Luce.” Cian nods to my grandfather. “Rossi gave it to my mate. And we also have Nebba’s. Eponine, or should I say”—a rare smile tugs at Cian’s lips—“the Queen of Nebba, handed hers over the day of her coronation.”
“Queen?” I whisper. “So Pierre is— He’s dead?”
Cian’s smile grows as Lorcan murmurs,Very much so.
Once I recover from my shock, I ask,Is there a way to be justa littledead?
A smilefinallywhispers across our mind link.
One that causes my eyes to roll and my heart to skip.Gods, you have such morbid humor, Lorcan Ríhbiadh.
My little aside with Lore makes me miss my father’s question, but not Justus’s answer. “Zendaya’s in the ocean.”
Forty-One
Alesser man may have shriveled under the intensity and weight of my father’s stare, but not Justus. Then again, Justus is not a lesser man.
“Where in the ocean?” Cathal rasps.
I squint toward the frolicking surf where smears of indigo appear amongst the steel.
Lore’s form unspools, his shadows grazing the frame of my face without obstructing my sight.If that man were as honest and trustworthy as you believe him to be, he would’ve told you.
We didn’t have much time to speak.
Much time? You had a bloody month!
I was unconscious for half of it.
What do you mean,unconscious?
