Would I have thrust someone into the devil’s lair without preamble?
No.
Have I forgiven her?
Also no.
I don’t believe I ever will. But Bronwen doesn’t strike me as someone who desires forgiveness.
“Mórrgaht, Justus is asking to see his son. May I bring him to Lazarus’s rooms?” Lore must spill confusing images into Gabriele’s mind because a frown pleats the Faerie’s brow. “Bronwen saw the Faeriegeneralknifing me.”
I stare between my mate’s somber form and Gabriele’s pallid one. “What’s going on?”
Gabriele’s gray eyes turn as obscure as slate. “I’ll be careful around him.” After a quick bow of his head, he strides back toward Justus.
Lore, did you just tell him that Justus will kill him?
I warned him to watch his back, that is all.
Why would Justus hurt him?
Because he’s a ruthless man who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.Andhe’s a Faerie general.
Formergeneral.My hands drift to my hips.Besides, what reason would he have to kill Gabriele?
I didn’t say he would; I merely cautioned Gabriele, and as far as I know, caution has never hurt a man.
Gods, you make Justus sound positively nefarious.
He bound himself to a witch to manipulate her magic. He kept you away from me, under the fucking earth, for weeks! I understand you look for the best in people, Little Bird, but make sure not to lose sight of the worst, because even the holiest amongst us is no stranger to sin.
I realize he’s right, nevertheless, it feels like he’s pitting one man against the other. Forming a bond is hard enough in times of war, but it’s a darn feat when one’s convinced another is out to get them.
“Justus Rossi,” I murmur. “I call forth one of my bargains: do not harm or murder Gabriele Moriati.”
My grandfather must feel the prickle of my claimed bargain because both his eyebrows jolt and his blue stare bangs into me.
“There. Satisfied, Lore?”
A sigh resonates through our bond.Can we lay down our weapons and retire for the night, mo khrà?He threads his shadow-hands between my arms to rope my waist.I’m in dire need to strip you of this soiled dress.He runs his ghostly nose along my cheek, eliciting goosebumps on every other part of my body.
And I’m in dire need to make you whole.
I don’t need my fifth crow to make you feel good, Fallon.
That isn’t why I want to find him.I shiver as his fingers travel up my spine.Tell me where your fifth crow lies, and I retire with you immediately.The stubborn press of his lips makes me add,AndI won’t bring up salvaging your missing crow until tomorrow.
He lies in Filiaserpens.
Filiaserpens?I grin because here I was expecting Lore to tell me his crow had been carried into the tunnels beneath Isolacuori.Why were you so intent on keeping his location from me?
Because, Fallon, Filiaserpens is so deep that not even Faeries can reach its floor.
Good thing I’m Shabbin.
I’m afraid even Shabbins cannot go that deep without it harming their body.
My grin falters.I’m immortal, Lore.
