Like the hair fanned around her face.
Like her skin.
Like her unseeing eyes.
The spectacle is ghastly and turns my stomach. One of my palms finds its way to my abdomen while the other rolls into a fist at my side.
Why did you bind me?I want to yell at the corpse.Why, Taytah? Why?I take a step nearer.I loved and admired youwith all my heart.I respected you. I thought you did, too, but I was wrong. If you’d loved and admired me, you wouldn’t have impeded me; you would’ve elevated me. Taught me to use my magic instead of locking it away and pretending I never had any.
I sweep my palm over her face to shut her eyes and then I turn and stride out of her chambers. “How long till my denmates arrive?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Lorcan replies.
“Good, because I want them at my side when I enter the Mahananda.”
Stunned breaths and shocked murmurs slide into my ears as I traverse the courtyard.
“Only someone with blood magic can sit on the Shabbin throne,” Aori proclaims as I pass underneath the starlit honeysuckle.
“She has blood magic,” Malka mutters.
“Priya wished for Kanti to succeed her!”
I stop on the edge of the Mahananda and turn to hunt the crowd for the architect of this decree—bronze-skinned and honeyed hair Rosh. “I’m aware Queen Priya never meant for me to succeed her. If she had wanted me on the throne, she wouldn’t have bound my magic, now would she?”
All present members of the Akwale exchange glances, and then they all start moving. Not toward me, but around me.
“They’re forming their circle,” Fallon whispers.
Smoke rises from Cathal’s skin. “I’ll happily disperse it.”
“Do not go near them,” I murmur. “I do not fear their wrath or their magic.” What I do fear is a concealed obsidian weapon, but I keep that to myself. “If the Mahananda wants me, then the Mahananda will protect me. I’m not your responsibility, Cathal.” I glance up at him, find his jaw ticking beneath his black beard.
Beard…I’m so surprised my mind found a word for what grows on his face that I almost miss his fiery reply.
“You’re the mother of my child. You’ll get my protection until I decide to become a forever-Crow.”
My heart catches at his mention of eternal death. He has a mate. Why in the world would he speak of death?
His mate must be mortal. I could make her immortal, I realize. If she’s willing to become a Serpent. I consider suggesting it, but what if Meriam’s misled me? What if I vanish into the Mahananda forever?
A body suddenly plummets from the sky and onto the Mahananda. It’s so blindingly white I know it’s Taytah’s. She lies there for a moment and then she shimmers out of existence, causing not a single ripple.
Lorcan takes shape beside Fallon. “I wanted to avoid someone doing away with her corpse, since there exists a sigil to resuscitate dead bodies.” At my shocked stare, he explains, “A sorceress would have to sacrifice her life for the corpse’s, but considering Priya’s fan club”—Lorcan slots his fingers through Fallon’s—“I worried one of them just might attempt it.” He carries her hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss against her knuckles.
Though my heart reels from his admission, it also melts at his consideration. “Thank you, Lorcan Ríhbiadh.”
“You’re very welcome, Zendaya of Shabbe, Mother of Serpents and of my extraordinary mate.”
All of me fills with such an influx of emotion that my eyes prickle.
“Thank Mórrígan she took after you and not the surly, winged one,” he adds.
A laugh erupts from my throat. It’s so at odds with the rest of the night that I almost feel guilty at having produced such a sound.
But it wanes when I hear someone decree, “We do not accept you as our queen, Naaga.”
“Good thing she doesn’t need your approval.” Cathal’s voice rolls over the courtyard, loud and deep and wholly steadfast.
