“Did you miss the part about Meriam and me tying the knot, Goccolina?”
Nonna’s nickname for me sounds revolting on his lips. “Never call me that.”
Justus’s pupils tighten.
“If you believe that you’ll rule Luce through me, then you have another thing coming.” When he smiles, I add, “Sorry. Did I say thing? I meant Crow. You have a Crow coming. Come to think of it, two, because my father will want nothing more than to help Lore delimb you.”
Justus’s smile spreads, crinkling the corners of his crafty eyes. Does he believe his marriage to Meriam will keep my mate and father from goring his ugly heart?
My own heart seizes as the reason for his glee dawns on me. He has access to Shabbin blood and knows how to use it, and not only to draw sigils, but also, to end shifter lives.
“Whisper when speak mother tongue,” he murmurs, I’m guessing in Shabbin considering his strong accent.
My lashes sweep high. I’m talking in . . . in . . .
I shake off my shock. Now’s not the time to marvel over my newfound skill, butwow, it’s fucking marvelous.
Under my breath, I murmur, “How doyouknow Shabbin? Is the great and loathsome Xema Rossi secretly part sorceress, and like me, it came to you from thin air?”
“From blood. Mother tongue thrives in blood. As for my talk, Meriam and I spend years together. Someday, I tell youmystory.” He steps toward the vault door.
Loudly, and in Lucin, I ask, “What makes you think I’m interested in the story of a man who culled his own daughter’s ears?”
He halts. “Is that what Ceres—” A shadow creeps across the floor, touching the side of Justus’s boot. Although it doesn’t reach his face, his expression darkens as though it had. “Agrippina is a disgrace to the Rossi name and to Faekind. Just like her mother.”
The shadow stills.
Backing up, Justus snaps, “Cato, since you seem to tolerate the Serpent-charmer best, escort her to the bathing chamber before she further infects our tunnels with her carrion stench.”
I should probably be taken aback, but my mind is stuck on the words that came out of his mouth right before Cato made his presence known.
Was he about to deny being the one to have cleaved off the tips of Mamma’s ears? If that was his intent, if he was for naught, then who hurt my birth mother?
Thirteen
Iexpect to find Antoni’s huddled form upon stepping out of the vault, but the only thing I come upon is a slick puddle of his blood. It sits on the blackened floor, viscous like oil.
My fingers ball into fists. “Where is he?”
“I had him moved.” Cato studies the puddle before lowering his lids to block out the sight.
“You had him moved to where?”
He turns his face toward me before raising his lids. “To a room. With a cot.”
“Above ground?”
He sighs. “No, Fallon. You know Dante would never allow that.”
“Are there many rooms in these tunnels?” I stare down the hallway across from the one that leads to my ‘room.’
“Please don’t ask me questions. I’m forbidden from giving you information about your whereabouts.”
“I already know we’re in Tarespagia, under Xema Rossi’s estate.”
“How . . .?” His mouth widens before flattening anew. “Right. The vault.” His gaze moves to the now closed wall of gold bearing the Rossi insignia. “Come. I’ll show you to the bathing chamber.”
Cato leads me to that tunnel I’d been eyeing. The stone is smooth, with barely a seam in sight, and Cauldron do I look for one because, until I figure out how to draw the sigil to pass through walls, a seam could make the difference between freedom and captivity.
