I see us swimming together—in the Amkhuti. I see us lounging around my garden and sharing meals around the table we’ve just vacated. Although it should ease the ache behind my ribs, it doesn’t, because I don’t want to only see Fallon in Shabbe. I want to see her in Luce.
I suddenly remember how the waterrise plucked my body from the moat. How far could I swim before someone notices my absence and forces me back to the Vahti? Could I reach the ramparts? Could the waterrise there lift me over the isle’s fortified walls without anyone being the wiser?
The prospect buoys my trodden spirits. Even if I don’t reach the ramparts, I’d meet other serpents. What if I could converse with them? Maybe they could help me find my way out of Shabbe… What if they hate me and gore me with their tusks?
“As soon as the Mahananda speaks to Priya, I will send word to you,” Behati says, hand wrapped snugly around the pommel of her cane.
Fallon’s palms slip off my forehead as she twists toward her quiet father, who stands in the trellised shadow of the courtyard, arms folded, chin tipped low, gaze riveted to the Mahananda.
“How long before…?” Her voice drifts like Cathal’s stare.
“My guess is that it will take the Mahananda as long to recover as it did between Zendaya’s and your dip,” Behati says. “Three weeks to a month. Perhaps longer.”
Fallon returns her attention to the seer. “No, I meant Dádhi’s transformation from skin to stone.”
Behati presses herself straighter, as though her arm aches from leaning on her cane. “I suspect it depends on how fast his blood carries the toxin to his heart.”
Fallon’s cheek dimples as though she were biting the inside of it.
“I understand you feel duped by what’s happened,” the seer says, “but the Mahananda’s intent wasn’t to harm.”
The corner of Fallon’s eye twitches. “He’d have been unstoppable without his curse.”
Behati inhales slowly, exhales even slower. “The Crows are our allies and emissaries, Fallon.”
“Except you can travel freely now, so what need do you have for emissaries?”
“We still need allies. Even though our ramparts are strong, you’ll find that the world’s thirst to possess the Mahananda is stronger.” Behati cants her head, sending the river of white and gold flowing over hunched shoulders. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I believe everyone wants to own the source of all magic. What I have my reservations about is the second thing. Sending me in his stead.”
“How can I dispel your doubts, child?”
“Blood-bind Lorcan and me.”
I frown.
“I’d need to ask Priya, but?—”
A resounding, “No,” slips from Lorcan’s tense lips.
Fallon swings her gaze his way. “Why not?”
“The Cauldron may interpret having access to your magic as greed and refuse to break my curse.”
“It’s not greed if I give it to you willingly, Lore.”
He must refuse once more through their mind link, because Fallon works her pointy jaw from side to side.
“How aboutIswear to bind you and Lorcan in Shabbin matrimony once his curse is broken? Would that restore your faith in the Shabbins?” Behati suggests.
Fallon’s lips part, and I think she’s about to say, “Yes,” but a sideways glance at her mate quiets her. “Lore says no bargains, but thank you, Behati.” She gives the seer a smile that unravels some of the tension between the sorceresses and the Crows. “Let me go say goodbye to my father.”
Goodbye?After everything that came to pass, I imagined Cathal might’ve changed his mind about staying. Then again, if he’s going to turn to obsidian, it’s probably best he remain in close proximity to the Mahananda.
Behati stares after Fallon. “Do not turn her against Priya, Mórrgaht. She is of her blood.”
“So was Meriam. Sorry. SoisMeriam.”
