With a final sneer, Dante flips his attention toward Justus. “Have you already returned with a healer?”
Without shifting his gaze off me, Justus says, “Yes. I’ve brought the one who lives on our property. He usually tends to horses but he’s learned in healing Faeries as well.”
I’m taking this as confirmation that the Rossis built their manor atop Costa’s underground castle.
Dante backs up slowly, seemingly reluctant to leave. Does he not trust his general? “See that Fallon gets dressed, and promptly at that.”
“I’ll have my granddaughter garbed and pliant in no time.”
Pliant? Obsidian must hurt Faerie brains considering how daft they’ve all become.
With a sharp nod, Dante wheels around and marches through the open doorway beyond which stand two soldiers. Although the dark-haired one has his gaze averted, the white-haired one does not.
Cato’s stance is erect, yet the outline of his body vibrates with a tangible desire to sprint into the room to assist. But is it Justus he cares to aid, or me?
“The only way I’ll ever be pliant is if you knock me out with your little sleep spell again,” I mutter.
He goes to the door and shuts it. I catch him uncorking the small vial and smearing blood in the shape of a knot across the wood.
“What did you just do?”
“I just ruined eavesdropping for your little Cato.”
“He’s not mine.”
“Yes, yes. He’s Ceres’s. I’m aware.” With a grunt, he adds, “The pedestal he’s placed that woman on is so high that he’s put her out of his own reach.”
Anger swills behind my breastbone. “Do you get off on being petty and cruel, or is that part of the requirements to lead the Lucin army?”
“What I get off on is not something I care to discuss with you. Now put the damn gown on, Nipota, before I dress you myself.”
My face blazes with fury. “I’mnotyour fucking granddaughter.” Why is Justus Rossi so adamant about making me feel part of his family?
Since I wouldn’t put it past him to dress me, I let the damp towel drop and plant my feet through the billows of scratchy tulle. I decide to wear the dress front to back in order to fasten the buttons myself.
“Where did you get this horrid frock anyway?” The buttons are covered in the same rich satin as the bodice, which makes them slippery to handle.
“In Domitina’s closet,” he says, still facing the door. “My daughter intended to wear it to her nuptials.”
“Domitina’s married?”
“No. When her sister bore a child out of wedlock, her betrothed canceled the ceremony, afraid for his good name.”
No wonder Domitina is salty with Mamma . . . Granted the man doesn’t sound like a winner, but still, she must hold my Faerie mother accountable for her failed engagement.
Justus’s cheek dimples. I’d have said with a smile, but since he possesses neither dimple nor jolliness, I deduce that he must be biting the inside of his cheek. “When Marco kept me on as his general, I made sure to bury the idiot’s good name.”
His favoritism fills me with anger on Mamma’s behalf. “So you defend the honor of one daughter and mutilate the other? What a father you are . . .”
The dimple vanishes from his cheek. “For Cauldron’s sake, I did not mutilate Agrippina’s ears. I never lifted a finger on my eldest child.”
Seventeen
My hands freeze on the endless row of buttons. “Are you implying the tips of her earsbrokeoff?”
The bathing chamber is so quiet that when Justus rubs his hand against his pant leg, I hear the scrape of his fingertips against the dark fabric. “Ceres found Agrippina laying in a pool of her own blood, unconscious. She had a sprite come and fetch me because . . . because she didn’t know what to do when she realized that Agrippina had cut off the tips of her ears. She didn’t know what the consequences would be to the baby.” His throat moves with slow breaths. “To you.”
I envy his ability to breathe because I’ve lost mine.
