I roll my eyes that feel gummy and hot from the overload of emotion. “I was speaking of the war,my love.”
A slow smile curls one corner of his mouth. I press up onto my toes to capture it just as my cheek is tapped repeatedly. I frown because, not only is Lore’s hand nowhere near my face, but also, patting is not his style.
“I’m afraid we’re needed back,” he murmurs.
I feel the squeeze of his hand, and then I feel the squeeze of another hand, a slimmer, warmer one.
“Fal?” Sybille’s gray eyes are as large as the platters she and I would tote aroundBottom.
“I think she’s back.” Phoebus, whose complexion rivals the cloud cover whitening the hatch, studies me from head to toe.
They’re both crouched in front of where I sit on a chair, a ways away from everyone else. I wonder if I dropped onto it or if they sat me down. “Sorry, I was mind-walking.”
Syb jolts. “You weremind-walking?” Her voice hits a particularly high note.
“Itoldyou,” Phoebus hisses. “The same way I told you not to shake her.”
“I was worried. Her eyes went white! Like full-white, and she stopped breathing! And Cathal commanded us to sit her down without an explanation.”
It’s a strange thing to notice, but my friend’s hair hits below her shoulder blades like mine. In the Luce of the olden days, we would’ve been fined for letting our tresses grow so long. To think this is a thing of the past. Well, will soon be.
I roll my stiff neck. “I stopped breathing?”
Phoebus squeezes the hand not in Sybille’s possession. “Syb’s exaggerating.”
“Evenyouwere worried.”
“Well, I’ve never actually witnessed someone mind-walk. Not many mates around.” He beholds the room, and although postures are still stiff, voices are more placid.
I notice Gabriele has arrived and is discussing something with Justus, Bronwen, and Cian. I also notice Lore has taken my father and Imogen aside, and they, too, are discussing something. When I shift my attention back onto my friends, I don’t miss the anguish scrunching up their faces.
“What?”
Phoebus snorts. “What, she asks.”
I frown, at a bit of a loss as to what’s eating at them.
“You married your mate’s mortal enemy, that’s what,” Sybille hisses.
I sigh. “Magically bound, not married. Andagain, not by choice.”
“What Syb is trying to say is that the war is about to get a whole lot bloodier.”
“For Dante,” I point out.
Phoebus tucks back a lock of golden hair, and although his fingers don’t shake, his gesture is futile as the strand slides right out from behind the point of his ear, curtaining off his wary face. “For everyone, I fear.”
“At least Gia got Mamma and Pappa out.”
I glance around the quiet marketplace. “They’re here?”
“No.” A smile takes ahold of Sybille’s full lips. “They’re in Nebba.”
“Nebba?”
“Eponine offered the parents of her newest counselor safe passage to her queendom.” Sybille’s eyes spark. “My sister is the freaking royal counselor!”
“Trust me, Syb”—a brazen grin drapes across Phoebus’s mouth—“Fal did not assume Eponine pined foryourcounsel.”
