“And is Lore’s crow—inside?”
My father’s lips are wedged so tightly together that they slash up his furious face. “I have half a mind to pitch it back inside the ocean.”
I prop myself up on my forearms, a myriad of aches exploding a little everywhere inside my body. “Why would you—do that?”
“Because he doesn’t fucking deserve to be made whole. Not after he let you dive into a fucking submarine volcano that bubbled your fucking skin.” If I hadn’t realized my father was angry, his liberal use of the wordfuckwould definitely have alerted me to his mood. “Who knows what sort of damage it inflicted on your organs?”
I drop my gaze to my arms, expecting to find them covered in blisters, but my skin is as smooth as a babe’s. Not even yesterday’s bruises remain.
Once we were out of the Fae lands, your mother laid you out on a rock and licked the welts off your skin. And then she swam you to shore so we could tend to you.
Awe and tenderness plug my chest as I squint at the gray horizon, on the hunt for the magnificent sea dragon that happens to be related to me.
She’s resting on the ocean floor. The journey and the healing took much out of her.
A heavy wash of guilt drenches my heart. “Where’s the cage?”
Lore nods to the tree line behind us where four Crows in skin stand guard while several others cycle over them in feathers.
“Dádhi, you think you can help me walk to the trees?”
He purses his lips at first, as though peeved by my destination, but then he scrubs his giant hands down his face. Though he smudges his makeup some more, he also smudges his residual anger. I wouldn’t call his face soft—I don’t think Cathal Báeinach’s face could ever be described as soft—but his expression has definitely eased.
Instead of setting me on my feet, he scoops me into his massive arms and props me against his thudding chest.
I don’t complain. I’m not usually of the minimal effort mindset, but my body feels wretched. Perhaps the hot water really did braise some of my organs. I wrinkle my nose at the thought, then shake my head to clear it.
“Has the child been paid?” my father asks as we approach the swaying trees.
I frown. “Child?”
“We had to get a human child from Racocci and carry him to the beach to untangle the beads around your neck because metal is a conductor.” He levels a glare Lore’s way.
“Lore didn’t tie it around my neck, Dádhi. I did that.” I palm his bearded jaw to carry his attention to my face. “The same way I chose to retrieve his crow knowing there was a volcano.”
“Well, he fucking shouldn’t have let you!”
I sigh, sensing my father’s in no mood to forget and forgive.
I’d understand if he never forgave me.
I pitch my gaze toward the roiling mass of shadows.Don’t say that. You two are best friends.Brothers. He may not forget, but he’ll forgive.
If your skin had split open and your blood flowed . . .His shadows shudder, and his golden eyes extinguish for a long moment.You could’ve died.
Huh.I’m rather happy I didn’t contemplate this while diving into the Marelucin soup. Oblivion may not be such a terrible thing after all.
“The child was paid, Cathal. He bit into the gold piece because he couldn’t believe it was real.” Imogen smiles, which is such a rare occurrence that I’m momentarily transfixed by the curve of lip and white teeth.
“A gold piece to unknot beaded strands? You must’ve made a Crow devotee out of him.”
“He was already rather fond of us,” my father says. “Most humans are. The gold was for his silence. We prefer the Faeries keep believing Lore’s crow lies in Filiaserpens.”
“Took him close to an hour to untangle your little noose,” Imogen says.
I rub my tender skin.Pliers or a knife would’ve been quicker.
Do you really see me allowing someone to bring a sharp object near your body, mo khrà?
