I interrupt my breathing exercise to grin.
Cathal frowns at my smile, then shakes his head and fishes something from his trouser pocket. “Here.” He dangles a leather cord fitted with a seashell. “Your mother used to wear one like this around her neck so she could prick her fingers at will.”
I stare at his gift, then quickly gather my hair so he can drop it over my head. He tightens the slipknots until the shell rests in the hollow of my throat. “Thank you, Dádhi.”
My father grunts. “It’s no iron blade.”
Apparently, my father doesn’t know what to do withthank-yous.
“Ready?” he asks, stormy gaze locked on the seashell.
I smooth my hands down the black bodysuit I’ve donned for the occasion, then palm the pointy seashell and nod. “I’m ready.”
But am I?
Fifty-Five
The instant hot-pink scales carve through the agitated surface of the dawn-lit ocean, my heart thumps a little easier. The waters may teem with Faerie patrols, but with my mother at my side, as well as my father and Lore, I’ll fear nothing.
Even though I don’t believe in Faerie Gods, I do believe in the Cauldron. “You who made the Crows, please don’t unmake them,” I murmur into the gusts of wind that slap the ocean, carrying its briny scent into the still-dark air.
Between the squall Lore has fashioned that shakes the woods, and the time of day, even purebloods will not detect our little group. As my father soars closer to the ocean’s surface, the delegation that flew from Monteluce with us rockets toward the cloud canopy, vanishing behind the wooly whiteness.
This is it.My head spins with elation while my stomach whirls with nerves.Andwine. Gods, I really should’ve gone easier on the wine. Attempting to press back the liquid sloshing around my stomach, I prick three fingers on my seashell and drag them across my throat like Justus taught me.
Lore, who didn’t speak a word during the two-hour trek, tracks my fingers’ movement.How long will your blood-gills last?
A long time since I’m of Meriam’s line.
His mood worsens at the mention of Meriam. Oh, the reunion that’ll be . . .
The second I feel my spell fading, Lore, I’ll swim back to the surface and repaint my neck.
The surface will be full of bloody Faeries.
Even though he surely usesbloodyas an invective and not a descriptor, the backs of my lids redden with a sea of blood upon which float headless bodies.
My father caws, which thankfully puts an end to my gory imaginings. The sound also makes Minimus stick his—hertusk out of the water.
Minimus is your mother. Your. Mother, Fallon.Heis ashe. And she is not actually a mareserpens at all.
Or that is all she is,that other small voice of mine whispers.
I shush that voice because pessimism has never been my style. I keep my gaze fixed on her large onyx ones.
My father lands, then tucks his wings. Though I’ve no need to lock air inside my lungs, instinct makes me gulp in a breath. My mother dives, then reappears a moment later right beside my father’s flank.
Just like when I would unmount Furia, I toss my leg over his spine and slide off his back. The water is shockingly warm against my chilled skin.
As I splash over toward my waiting serpent, my father melts into his shadowy form and sinks. Since he cannot hold his shape very long, he’s soon back in feathers and floating upward like a cork, his frustration quaking the liquid expanse that’s as dark as a pot of ink.
The second you’re whole, I demand sunshine for days, Lore.
His shadows wrap around me.Once I’m whole, I will withdraw my clouds and bake our kingdom to a crisp. Your every wish will be my command.
I almost amend my request to ask him to roast Luce no matter the day’s outcome, but that would reveal doubt, and I’m on a doubt-banishing crusade.
My mother pushes her head against my neck and sniffs. And then her forked black tongue unspools and licks across my skin.
