“He said the only thing he was told was to sail back to Luce with whomever was left on board and not speak of this little voyage.”
Footsteps thud on the ceiling above my head, and then a door creaks and Justus appears. “Let’s hope they didn’t keep the stone on the floor.”
I pop my lips wide to avoid breathing in through my nose. “Do you think Faerie blood will absorb into it and warp the sigil?”
“No. I’d just prefer not to get my hands dirty.” As he trundles down the short flight of steps, his gaze tapers on the Shadow King. “No filthier than yours, Mórrgaht.”
I sigh. “Can you two play nice? At least until the wards come down and Dante’s dead?”
Though Lore has no teeth in this form, I swear I can hear them click.
“The stone’s not here, Rossi.” My father rolls his neck, eliciting many cracks. “The soldier we interrogated admitted that it stayed behind in Glace with Diotto, Regio, and Meriam.”
Seventy-Four
My eardrums thrum. The buzzing grows so loud that it eclipses all other sounds. Though I see Justus’s lips move, I cannot hear what he says.
Dante’s in Glace.
Meriam’s in Glace.
“I thought they were in the tunnels,” I finally say.
They fled Luce by a tunnel that led them straight into the Tarespagian harbor. Antoni and Mattia just confirmed they found tread marks on the stone that match the width of Meriam’s throne.
I cannot get over the fact that Dante slipped right from under our noses and left Luce. He abandoned his people. And he calls himself a king . . .
That Faerie was never a king. He’s hardly a man.
“Ínon.” My father nods to Fionn. “Can you wake him so we can—so we can depart?” I’m guessing he means to Glace.
I stare at the stone Crow’s bulk. “Where’s the entry wound?”
“I believe he was shot in the abdomen.” Erwin wipes his palms on his trousers.
“Any ideas how we can flip him over, Nonno?”
Justus comes to a stop beside me, eyes trained on Fionn’s retracted wings. Had they been stretched any wider, they would’ve spanned the entire width of the ship.
I suppose that, worse comes to worse, Lore can sink the ship. In the water, I can swim beneath the stone bird. Not that I particularly want to test the waters of the Northern Sea, which I hear are very nippy, but if there’s no other solution . . . “You wouldn’t know of a rune that can pivot things?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I lower my gaze to the floor glazed in blood and vomit, nose wrinkling. “I could head down to the deck beneath this one and cut open a manhole to access his abdomen.”
“You could, but I’ve a better idea.” He walks over to a wooden crate and begins to drag it over, but stops when the lid pops free. As he goes to fit the nails back into their slots, he freezes.
“What is it?” I crane my neck.
He snaps his head up and glares at the Crows. “Which one of you killed this Faerie?”
Erwin casts a cursory glance at the corpse inside the crate. “Daggers through the heart aren’t our style.” Erwin prods the corpse. “Besides, he’s stiff as a log and smells vile. I suspect he’s been dead for days.”
I pad closer, but the pungency of decay is so strong that I fall back. “Was he a friend, Nonno?”
Lips pressed tight, my grandfather walks over to another crate. This time, he removes the lid and inspects the contents before dragging it my way.
“Who was that Faerie to you?”
