A quixotic thought.Lore presses my hair behind my ears, tucking it away from my wet cheeks.I lived in a time when Luce was divided amongst tribes. It was a lawless place full of violence that benefited the greedy and forsook the needy. Even the Regios’ dominion beat a fractured empire.
I catch a glimpse of a mountain road littered with tiny bodies whose limbs and heads are turned at awry angles. Of a wooden house engulfed in flames. Of the shrill cries of a young man bursting from the flames like an avenging angel, the limp body of a dark-haired woman clutched in his arms.
I see him fall to his knees, black hair flopping across his brow as he presses his forehead to the woman’s motionless chest. I hear him whisper,She’s dead, Lorcan.Right as he lifts his face and fixes me with his familiar black eyes, Lore carries me out of his memory.
Who was that woman?I sound breathless, as though I’d run out of that house alongside my father.
That was your grandmother.His spectral fingers stroke up and down my spine.Faeries set our village on fire. By the time we saw the flames rise from the mountain pastures, the Fae had slaughtered our younger brothers and sisters, done unpardonable things to our mothers.The chill of his shadows sinks beneath my own flesh.Forgive me,he murmurs.I shouldn’t have subjected you to these memories, but I wanted you to see that the world was not a better place before I sought out the first Shabbin Queen and begged her for help.He uncoils himself from around my body and turns the full force of his citrine stare on the sea captain.
I hug myself to counter the chill brought on by the sight of those tiny, broken bodies and my father’s haunted eyes.What will you do to Antoni?
I’ll hear him out, then escort him outside my castle.
So you’re not going to kill him?
If I killed every soul who currently wished me dead, I’d be ruling over a kingdom of corpses.
My merciful king.
I wasn’t so merciful the night you were taken, Fallon. I was a monster. The winged Demon King the Fae wove into their folklore to frighten their babes.
I try to reach out and touch him but he’s already drifted away.
Connor nods to the dusky hallway. “Mórrgaht says yes to meeting. Imogen bring you to him.”
I catch the flash of surprise on Antoni’s face, but it’s soon replaced by suspicion. Does he believe he’s being led to his execution?
To defuse whatever ill-intent lingers in the back of his mind, I say, “He’s going to let you live, Antoni.”
The brown-haired male stops mid-pivot and stares at me from across the tavern. After a long beat, he inclines his head toward me. “Thank you.”
“I’ve nothing to do with his clemency.”
And then he’s gone, and Phoebus is standing before me, eyes wide and worried. “What the underworld happened in those tunnels?”
“Didn’t I say enough?”
“No, Fallon, you’ve said nothing about them. Well, besides what youjustsaid now, but until Antoni arrived, you’ve clammed up every time Syb and I have tried to wheedle out the details of your imprisonment.”
“I made it out alive. Everything else I prefer to put out of my mind for now.” I run my hands down my face.
“Put it intoourminds. Let us share the burden. That’s what friends are for.”
“By pitching it into your minds, I’ll only be keeping those dark days alive. Let me forget them. For now. Once the war is over, if you and Syb still care to know all, I will tell you all, but for now, help me forget.”
He slides his arms around my shoulders and tugs me into his chest. “Fine. Let’s get plastered. Syb, oh favorite tavern maiden, fetch us an extra large jug of Sky wine, will you?”
“I thought I was your favorite tavern maiden,” I mumble against his blue shirt.
“You, dear Fallon, are my favorite Crow wen—witch.”
A smile digs into my cheeks. “Did you just call me a wench?”
“Nope. I saidwitch.”
“I heard wench.” Syb, expert delegator, watches Mattia head over to the bar to grab a jug. “I cannot wait for Fallon to share your newest pet name with her mate.” She rubs her hands together.
Phoebus snorts. “Perhaps she should report it to Connor. You know, havehimpunish me.”
