What a frightening, fascinating entity, this Mahananda…
After Kanti and the Crows depart, I mull over everything I learned tonight. Because of this, I forget to corner Cathal. As I reach my bedchamber door, I glance over my shoulder, but no large, brooding male stands in the courtyard. I lift my gaze to the sky—full of constellations but empty of birds. It’s possible Cathal’s injury drove him to retire in the guest wing. How empty it must feel tonight. I could ask Asha to lead me to him, but I suppose it can wait a day.
I try to sleep but my mind crackles with so many things that I toss the sheets off my legs and open the doors to my garden, and then I plod down the stone steps, through the lush palms and low brush toward the tall hedge that keeps my quarters secluded from the rest of the royal gardens.
I haven’t lain all five fingers on the hedge before smoke billows before me, thickening into the shape of a male.
“Going somewhere, Príona?”
Chapter 10
Zendaya
I’m about to tell Cathal I was going for a swim when an idea sparks. “I look for mollusk dwelling. I drop it here.”
“A mollusk dwelling?”
“Seashell.” I twist my finger in the air to mimic a spiral. “Like Fallon’s.”
“And you lost it in these hedges?”
“I not know where.” I fleetingly eye the torn leather at his thigh, before moving my gaze to the ground beneath my sandaled feet.
I realize that I probably have one shot at tonguing his wound. Would one lick suffice to heal the extent of the damage or would it only seal the infection beneath his skin? What if I make it worse?
When I look back up, I find his stare fastened to my face. “Find shell, Crow?”
“Crow?”
“Shell. Focus.” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “See it?” I point to the grainy mixture of pink sand and umber earth.
The second Cathal’s gaze flicks off me, I drop into a crouch and wedge the tip of my tongue against his wound. The musclein his thigh tautens before turning into air. When Cathal reappears at a distance from me, he growls something in Crow. I might not understand the words but his sentiment is clear—he’s furious.
I stay low but tip my head high. Unlike Shabbin and Lucin blood, Cathal’s tastes like licking a dirty knife dragged through rotted fruit. I’m tempted to wipe my tongue but decide to drench the taste with many swallows instead, worried spitting might vex him some more.
“You cannot go around putting your tongue on people without their consent, Daya!”
I lower until my knees hit earth, then sit back on my heels. “What is consent?”
“Consent is sayingyes.”
“I ask, but you no want try.”
“And for good reason!” At least, color stains his cheeks anew. “It could get you sick.”
“I Serpent, not Crow.”
“For all we know, obsidian is toxic toallshifters.”
I frown, taking inventory of my body. “I feel same.”
“I didn’t feel sick at the beginning either. Istilldon’t feel sick,” he adds, but his insistence makes me wonder if he speaks the truth.
“I’ll fetch something to rinse your mouth.”
“Rinse?”
“In case my blood is toxic to you.”
