“Because…”
“Becausewhat?”
He drags a hand through his hair. “Fine, don’t drink.”
“You prefer I die than show me legs?” I’m not certain why his reaction tilts the corners of my lips, but it does. “You shy, Dádhi Crow?”
His nostrils flare. “I told you. Don’t call me that.”
“Show me legs, and I stop call you DádhiandCrow.”
His eye twitches. “Actually, if I show you my legs, you will solemnly swear to never approach a waterrise again, Zendaya of Shabbe.”
I frown.
“If you find our deal agreeable, then say,If I approach a waterrise, Cathal Báeinach, I will owe you.”
My retracted tusk sinks deeper into my forehead’s furrows. “Why you suddenly happy?”
“Because I enjoy reaching agreements.” His gaze remains steady on mine as he waits…and waits. “Fine. Don’t take my deal. Fallon left me a vial of her blood that should last me until she returns.”
“Bloodmaybeslow, but blood no heal.”
“As long as it slows the infection long enough so that I am able to stand at her side the day of her nuptials?—”
“Nuptials…?”
“Her wedding.” At my frown, he explains, “Even though Lore and Fallon are mates, for her to be considered a queen by thehumans and the Fae of our kingdom, they will exchange vows in front of all.”
“When?”
“They were waiting until”—his tongue wets his lower lip—“until the curse was broken.”
“But curse no broken.”
“Yes. I’m aware. But Luce needs its king, and its king needs his queen.”
“When marry?”
“Soon.”
“In Luce?”
“Yes.” Cathal must read my overwhelming desire to witness this exchange of vows because he attaches it to his deal. He tells me that he will let me see his legs and take me to Luce for the nuptials if I swear never to approach the waterrises.
Even though I realize that his reasons for me not to go close to them is to keep me from venturing out of the Vahti, I say, “Not just show. You will consent I lick.”
His throat dips twice before he rasps, “All right.” He scrapes his palm across his flushed jaw. “All right.” He repeats the deal with my addendum.
This time, I speak the promise he’s asked of me. When the wordsI swearslip off my tongue, I hiss and grab the front of my dress, dragging down the pink silk, because it feels like a bee’s just stung me. Although there’s no bump, a dot glows on the swell of my right breast.
I touch it, then scrape it with my nail. It doesn’t go away. “What this?”
When Cathal doesn’t answer, I look up at him, find his eyes shut so tight that the skin around them is rucked.
“Cathal, why dot?”
He cracks his knuckles, then his neck. “It’s the mark of a bargain.”
