If he tells me to watch my tongue, I will—
I smile because you look about ready to raze the world for me.
My father’s chair creaks as he shifts on his seat. “I agree with my daughter. Rossi’s plan is madness. The fact that you’re all even entertaining it is madness.”
I stare around the table at Cian, Erwin, and the two other males whose names I’ve yet to learn. “Why are you all even entertaining it?”
“Notall. Rossi neither has my vote nor Cathal’s.” Imogen regards the four Siorkahd members who failed to see the folly in my grandfather’s plan.
“You and I both know, Fallon”—Justus blows a breath out of the corner of his mouth to displace the silver lock that’s slipped in front of his left eye—“that Dante will not emerge from those tunnels until the Crows fall.”
My molars clench so hard that pain shoots into my jawbone. “So you suggested orchestrating their fall?” No wonder my father was shouting at him when I arrived.
“I suggested they all flock to the battleground. One of us—be it Bronwen, myself, or you—would then drive an obsidian blade through Lore, which would turn his people into obsidian statues. While Gabriele ensures the news reaches Dante’s ears, you would free Lore. The Sky King would then wait to speak the words that awakens his Crows until Dante emerges from the tunnels.”
“Once out in the open and within your reach, since, apparently,youmust murder him or the Cauldron will not unbolt, ínon”—my father glances at his brother whose chest moves with a sigh even though he’s for naught in this prediction—“Lore would wake us so we can expunge his close guard and supporters, while you concentrate solely on theannos dòfain.”
I can only imagine thatawnos duffenis not a laudatory term.
I’m glad Aoife has yet to fill you in on your father’s favorite insults.Lore’s pleasant tone is so at odds with this entire moment that I cannot even find it in me to smirk that my father has favorite insults, much less ask what this one means.
But Gabriele must ask because Naoise smiles widely his way. “It means anus dejection.”
“What ifIturn to stone when Lore is staked? I’m a Crow, after all.”
“If that side of you had been unleashed, you would’ve suffered greatly underground,” Justus says.
“She did suffer greatly, Rossi,” my father bites out.
Justus rolls his lips, chastened by my father’s reproach.
“Another way we could go about this”—Gabriele leans forward in his seat, sliding his forearms on the scarred wood, looking so at ease amongst the Siorkahd that I take it this isn’t his first roundtable—“is staking each of you individually so Lore is unharmed.”
It would take too long to free everyone. You’ll either have an army I can raise instantly, or you won’t set foot out of my castle.
I stare at my mate and shake my head.I loathe this plan, Lore.
And I loathe your plan of going for a swim, but I’m indulging you.
I toss my hands in the air.So I should indulge your collective lunacy?
Only fair. Can you share my answer to Gabriele’s suggestion?
I grit my teeth. “Lore says no to the individual staking of his people.” Many sets of eyes warm my scowling face. “And I say no to staking him.”
“The majority has voted yes to Rossi’s plan.” Slowly, Iona adds, “Your mate included.”
“So, what? It’s set in stone?” I cross my arms and lean back, probably appearing like a sprite perched on the seat of a full-grown Faerie.
“Unless you can think of a better plan during your swim”—Cian inclines his head in the direction of Mareluce—“then yes, we will go through with this plan.”
I cannot tell if he thinks me as foolish as Lore does. Not that I care. All I care about is getting into the ocean. Not only will swimming allow me to distance myself from the war room, but it’ll also give me time to think of another plan.
A better one.
One that doesn’t involve turning my mate to iron.
As I rise from my seat, I ask, “Did Bronwen see it happen? Is that why you’re all on board with turning into statues again, Uncle?”
