I start to wrinkle my nose that she believes I may have designs on her husband but become sidetracked by her flared sleeves collapsing to her elbow, revealing stacks of carved ivory bangles inlaid with silver and diamonds. The sight of them tosses me back to the Regio trophy room where Marco so merrily boasted about the Glacins’ passion formareserpenstusks.
“Where’s my brother?” My father’s voice carries me away from Isolacuori.
“At the hunting lodge.” Vladimir nods toward the top of a steep hill. “I’ve had supper set up there.”
My stomach roils. Though Crows hunt for food, Fae hunt for sport. Yes, most end up eating their kill, but I find the thrill they take in ending the lives of wild creatures deeply unsettling.You’re wearing gloves and shoes and pants made of animal hide.My mind’s reminder of my two-facedness stifles my revulsion.
“Gabriele?” One of the twins gasps. “Gabriele Moriati?” She strides over the frozen ground, eyes as wide as a fawn’s. “Ksenia said it couldn’t be you, because you’re—well you’re—”
“A Faerie?” he supplies.
I can tell, from her spastic head bobbing, that this wasn’t what she was hinting at. “I can’t believe it’s truly you.” She gapes at him as though he’s changed considerably in the few months since she’s seen him. I suppose that between his shorter hairdo, and his new allegiance, he’s a different man, both in appearance and countenance.
King Vladimir observes Gabriele, as though only now noticing the pointed shape of his ears, but he rapidly loses interest and refocuses on my father and me. “Will you be flying or sleighing?”
Without turning away from Vlad, my father asks, “Ínon? What would you prefer?”
I eye the huge sleighs carved in tawny wood and finished with silver runners. Unlike the sleighs in the story I use to read Mamma, they aren’t drawn by horses but by silver-eyed Faeries wearing pale-blue military regalia trimmed with black fur and shiny silver buttons.
“When in Glace, do as the Glacins do.” I shoot the royals a smile which I hope will come off as genuine.
I don’t loathe them, but I do have beef with them. Not only are they using the runestone to bribe Lore, but they also tried to pitch Alyona into my mate’s bed. For my own sanity, I should let that last part go, but however hard I try to shoo it out, one look at Alyona’s cold and delicate beauty carries my jealousy front and center.
Ifwhat the Cauldron showed Bronwen is true, she will not be of this world much longer. But how reliable is the Cauldron? After all, Gabriele is still alive, and he was destined to die before the last full moon. Though I don’t like the princess, I hope Bronwen went heavy on the Faerie wine last night and that was the reason why her mind crafted the princess’s death.
Vladimir gestures for my father and I to climb aboard the sleigh first, and then he joins us with his son while his wife, daughters, and youngest child climb into another sleigh with Gabriele. Colm, Aoife, Fionn, and the three other Crows that made the trip morph into feathers and fly.
Vlad’s lips bend into a tight smile that’s no smile at all. “Though flattered you’ve traveled over miles of sea to join my family for supper, may I ask what brings you to my icy shores? Cian was vague.”
My father dips his bearded chin and fixes the northern monarch with his stare. “Your runestone.”
Sixty-Seven
All right then.I guess we’re not beating around the bush. Not that there seems to be many bushes in Glace. I clearly remember a conifer forest, but that must’ve been in some other part of this giant kingdom.
Vlad drapes his arms over the back of his seat. Clearly, he doesn’t feel threatened by us or he’d keep his limbs close. “I’ve sent Ríhbiadh my terms.”
Without missing a beat, my father says, “He requests new terms.”
Vladimir drums his fingers across the back of the seat and the sun catches on his pinkie ring—a large silver band stamped with a snowflake. “We will not budge.”
“There must be something else you desire.” My father sounds desperate, and I suddenly wonder if he doesn’t believe I can recover the runestone.
I touch the hand with which he throttles his thigh and ease it off before he shatters the bone. When his gaze snags mine, I squeeze his fingers, attempting to communicate that I got this . . . that we don’t need a treaty. All we need is access to the gallery and my blood.
Vladimir watches our exchange. “Isn’t it a bit incestuous?”
My father’s talons slip from his nails, and he bares his teeth. “What was that, Korol?”
Before he can rip through the Faerie’s jugular and start a second war, I whisper, “Dádhi, think of Daya.” The sound of my mother’s name makes him take a much-needed breath.
The world around us is so quiet that I hear the creak of his thick leather and iron armor as air plows into his lungs. Once he’s calmer, I dare glance around us. As though someone’s suspended the passing of time, no one and nothing moves. Not the sleighs, nor their passengers, nor the sentries. Even the Crows overhead have stopped beating their wings.
“Forgive me.” Vladimir tilts his head, and the small white hairs framing his face shiver in a chilly gust. “I think you misunderstood my comment. I was not remarking onyourrelationship with Fallon, Báeinach.”
“Then what in Mórrígan’s name were you remarking on?” my father snaps.
“The fact that you slipped your own daughter into your best friend’s bed.”
