I release one of Fallon’s hands and tuck the other into the crook of my arm, the large diamond on her slender finger sparkling pink against the black sleeve of my jacket. Yes, jacket. For the first time in centuries, I left the Sky Kingdom without armor.
When Erwin saw me stroll into the war room this morning, his eyes almost bugged out of his ugly face. I had to remind him that we were no longer at war. Something I will indubitably have to recall myself as we repair Luce in the coming months.
Folding my fingers over Fallon’s, I pivot my mate toward Priya of Shabbe, the ageless queen born a mere decade before me. Though her face, like mine, has not changed since she reached maturity, her auburn locks have gone full-white. I heard it happened when the wards closed off Shabbe.
I suspect my hair may suffer the same fate if Bronwen’s vision comes to pass and I end up with a guileful daughter who takes after the woman on my arm, in both beauty and character.
Mórrígan help me. . . “Priya, I’d like to introduce you to Fallon, Zendaya and Cathal’s daughter. Your great-grandchild. My mate.”
A smile curves the Queen’s mouth. “Oh, the news that you found a mate penetrated even my daughter’s wards, Lorcan. My flesh and blood, no less. The Cauldron must hold you in high esteem.”
I stroke Fallon’s hand as Priya finally breaks away from her courtiers, the carmine gown she’s donned for our reunion so incandescent the shade matches her irises.
Shabbins, like Faeries, have such a fondness for bright clothing. Though my mate looks magnificent in black, I suddenly worry that, by selecting only the palette of my people, I’ve deprived her of something she may want. I make a note of arranging a dress fitting with one of Priya’s seamstresses to rectify my oversight.
The Queen studies my shifters. First, the ones circling her sky, casting moving shadows over the courtyard; then, the ones in skin standing with Fallon’s friends at a short distance from us. “I heard you’d be returning with my daughter.”
Ah . . .Of course that’s who she seeks. “You heard correctly.”
“Yet, I don’t see her.”
I tip my head toward Aoife. “The Crow carrying Meriam will land at my command.”
Priya tilts her head, and her waist-long hair rushes over her bronzed arms. “Command her. Please.”
Fallon’s fingers clench around my bicep. “You cannot kill her.” When Priya levels her gaze on my mate, Fallon sucks in a breath and adds a breathy, “Your Majesty.”
“Call me, imTaytah. It means . . .”
“Mother of my grandmother,” Fallon murmurs.
“That’s right.” Priya outlines my mate’s face with her fingertips, the skin around her eyes creasing with the pain of seeing her beloved granddaughter’s face worn by another. “As for Meriam, I’ve no intention of killing her. She has far too much to atone for before I will grant her passage to the next world.”
When Fallon’s throat clenches with a swallow, I tighten my hold on her fingers.Shh, my love. Your great-grandmother is a very fair woman.
Her violet eyes jerk to mine, springing her jaw off Priya’s fingers.She may be very fair but she was locked inside a bubble—granted, a really grand one—for the last five centuries. Not only would I have gone crowshit crazy, but I would also have grown seriously embittered.
You could never turn bitter, Little Bird. You’re far too sweet.
My sweetness is an illusion. Deep down, I’m tough as crow-nails.
I tip her a crooked smile and caress her hand.Tough Bird it’ll be from now on.
Gods—Goddess no.She wrinkles her nose.Wait, is Mara considered a goddess?
“Fallon?” a female rasps.
My mate whirls at the sound of her name, just as the tight circle of courtiers parts around a Faerie with short raven-black hair and sparkling green eyes.
The woman palms her mouth and murmurs a raucous, “Goccolina,” that tears my mate away from my side.
Her identity slots into my mind—Ceres Rossi. Even if I’d forgotten who she was, the sight of Justus standing behind her, arm in arm with Agrippina, would’ve joggled my memory.
Gripping handfuls of her glorious gown, Fallon races across the courtyard. The woman holds her arms aloft just in time to take delivery of my sobbing mate.
“Shall we begin with your curse or with Zendaya’s?” Priya asks.
“Zendaya’s.” Without shifting my gaze off my mate and her Faerie family, I call out to Cathal,How much longer before you reach the Vale?
