I cannot even fault him for his tetchiness. In truth, I’m so relieved, it warms all the parts of me that have felt frozen since Dante took me underground.
I was so afraid it was another secret you were keeping from me.I carve my hand through my hair to press it out of my eyes, then knuckle the seawater off my lashes—futile, seeing as a second later, a new wave slaps me in the face.It’s a Shabbin ritual. Perhaps my father’s heard of it?
There’s nothing your father knows that I don’t.
Could my mothernothave known about it?
With the intent to ask Justus about it, I turn toward him but get walloped by yet another wave. I try to glimpse where we are, but Lore’s smoke coalesces into a gauzy face, and I forget all about looking anywhere but at him. I raise my hand to touch him, fearing my fingers will fall right through his ethereal shape, but they don’t. Though soft like his feathers, Lore feels solid.
The rain eases, but only over our heads where a murder of Crows fly dizzyingly fast. Everywhere else, it smacks the ocean like the hooves of a thousand warhorses.
Tell Justus that your father will fly him to dry land.Filaments of his dark smoke graze the seam of my lips.If he tries anything, Cathal will try something back.
I smirk because I’m rather certain “try something back” is a euphemism for a talon through soft tissue. Lore raises a vaporous smile that confirms my suspicions.Such a homicidal creature, you are, Mórrgaht.
Protective, Fallon; not homicidal.A deep swallow sounds through our mental bond.
I turn to Justus and relate the first part. I don’t bother adding Lore’s threat. I’d rather these two begin to build a rapport, and preferably one not based on fear of severed limbs and obsidian impalements.
Does he carry obsidian?Lore asks.
“Justus, Lore wants to know if you have obsidian on your person?”
“No.” My grandfather’s lack of hesitation seems to surprise Lore. “In case you don’t trust me, my mouth is full of salt, Ríhbiadh.” Lore must send him a vision because Justus says, “I’ve no need to cripple myself to feel an iota more invincible.”
My father drifts low, his black eyes locked on me. They’re filled with so much emotion that even without words, I grasp all he is thinking.
“Álo, Dádhi.”
His great big body seems to shudder at the sound of my voice. He swoops low, brushing my cheek with the tip of his wing. His feathers are so much softer than his callused hands; nevertheless, I decide I love both equally.
“On second thought, I’ll swim,” Justus murmurs. “I am a water-Fae after all.”
I laugh because there’s only one reason a Faerie would prefer to brave the serpents than take to the skies.
He cocks up a single eyebrow. “Something amusing, Nipota?”
“Who knew the formidable general, who’s spent centuries mastering the art of terrorizing Lucins, was scared of anything?”
Justus grunts something unintelligible just as my father clicks his enormous talons around the general’s biceps. With a powerful wingbeat, they take off into Lore’s storm. I don’t miss how rigid Justus has gone. He doesn’t even reach up to hold on to the part of my father’s legs not encased in iron.
Your turn, mo khrá.
Gods, I hope I’ll remain his love once he finds out what a blood-bind is. When I feel his citrine stare drink in my face from creased brow to pressed lips, I wall off my mind.
I don’t want him to see anything.Not yet.We need to make a pit stop by Xema Rossi’s old home. Aoife and Imogen are there.
A relieved sigh trundles through our mind link.Thank the skies. I thought they were still in those fucking tunnels.
Actually, you’ll have to thank Justus.AndVance. Who, by the way, is Justus’s son.
When Lorcan doesn’t react to the news, I ask,You knew?
In a voice that rolls like the peals of his thunder, he says,Bronwen may have mentioned it.
Did she also happen to mention how I ended up in those tunnels?
She did.
