Are you crying?
The corners of his mouth turn up and up.
What?
I granted you your wish, my love.
Though my beak cannot curl, I grin.I’ve a beak.I bend my leg and inspect my lethal talons.And iron talons.I’m as mesmerized as the day my blood guided my hand through matter.
A giant hole suddenly appears in the wall of snow that had buried the entrance to the cavern. Bright, gorgeous sunshine filters in, along with air so fresh, it whisks away the reek of death. Though two Crows swoop in, what captures my attention are the men in skin and furs standing beyond the cavern.
One in particular.
Konstantin Korol. “We thought you may need some assistance, Ríhbiadh.” His gaze sweeps over the dead. “But I see you’ve got everything handled.”
“Thank you for coming.” Lore inclines his head. To me, he asks,Did you call in your bargain?
No.I must tuck my wings in, because the next thing I know, I bang into the ground at Lore’s feet and groan.
With another smile, Lore crouches and clasps either side of my head.Ouch.He strokes my cheeks, his thumbs sailing through my black feathers.
“Daughter.” My father’s hoarse voice makes my head jerk in his direction.
Easy there, my love. You’ve a sword for a mouth.Lore’s smile only deepens, and though no other tear chases after the one that trundled down the sharp frame of his face, his eyes keep sparkling.Come back to me.
I do. My transformation into flesh is as rushed as the one into feathers. I slam down, my tailbone whacking ice, and loose another groan.
With a brisk chuckle, Lore tows me upright.You’ll get a handle on your new shape in no time.
My father shoulders aside my mate and repeats that single, beautiful word that ties our hearts and souls together. “Daughter.”
It’s funny, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak the word in Lucin, and he’s just said it twice.
“Your father spoke in our tongue, my love. Just like I’m doing right now.”
I shouldn’t be shocked. After all, Shabbin came to me even before Meriam painted me in blood, but Lore’s declaration knocks me onto my figurative ass.
I can speak Crow.
I laugh, and my joy echoes against every corner of this vast temple of ice. But then another sound rings out—a deep, throaty cry.
My mouth shuts, and I burn with shame for having dared rejoice.
For having dared put the deaths I brought about out of my mind for even a moment.
My father must’ve realized the reason for Cian’s wails, because he streaks through the air toward his kneeling brother.
“Shh.” Lore gathers me into his arms. “It’s not your fault, my love.”
I press my face into the crook of his neck, just where his armor ends, and breathe in the smell of my mate until it plugs some of the holes that riddle my heart. “Can we find the runestone and go?” My voice is thin, threaded with my uncle’s pain.
“Rossi just collected it from one of the sleighs,” Lore murmurs around a long breath. “He’s proven himself rather helpful, hasn’t he?”
“Are you finally warming up to him?”
He hums, more resonance than sound. “He did marry you off to another man.”
I jerk my head off Lore’s chest and raise my hand. And twirl it. My palm is bare and pink, no longer marred by that hateful mark that linked me to a man who died an imbecile instead of a legend.
