She stares at the shivering fronds swaying against her tall, arched windows. “My child is dead.”
“But—” I tilt my head. “But Shabbin live always, no?”
“No. We’re not immortal. We’re merely harder to kill than others.”
How incredibly heartbreaking. No wonder Cathal’s mood is pitiful. “Your child was Crow?”
The queen purses her lips. “No.”
So Cathal Báeinach once loved a being who wasn’t a Crow… I suddenly wonder if that’s the reason he stays in Shabbe. Because this land reminds him of her. Though that’s even more tragic.
I may still not understand why he’s so determined to guard me, but at least, now I understand why he’s forever discontent. My hands have left my skirt to settle on my neck, on the strip of fabric that buttons around it and holds the rest of my dress up thanks to thin chains made of pearls and cyan gems.
I knead the skin that my aching heart makes flutter. “That so sad, Taytah.”
She shrugs. “Such is life.”
Behati bustles in then and settles on another cushion on the queen’s floor. We discuss my swim—again—then Sun Warrior’s presence in the Amkhuti—again.
I wrinkle my nose when Behati says it would be good for me to keep him close so he can teach me the way of serpents. “I no want Sun Warrior as mate,” I say, sitting up.
Behati’s pink eyes go as wide as the supper plates that servants are setting on the table.
“Yes. Zendaya speaks,” Priya muses.
Behati pales, becoming almost as insipid as the queen’s locks. “Since when?”
“I only heard her today, but perhaps my granddaughter’s spoken before?”
“I no want baby with Sun Warrior.” It seems more important to drive this point in than to explain when and to whom I first spoke.
The queen’s lips curve gently. “You do not have to couple with any being you do not desire. One’s partner needs to be one’s choice.”
I’m greatly reassured.
“May I speak with you in private, Priya?” Behati asks.
“Once I’m done speaking with Zendaya.”
Though I’m grateful Priya chooses me over her advisor, I get to my feet. I’ve taken up enough of her time. Besides, she’s given me much to think about.
After bending my forehead to receive her kiss, I depart for my rooms, Asha’s sandals slapping the stone right beside me.
“I cannot believe I had to learn you could speak at the same time as the queen’s entourage.” With a pout, Asha adds, “I thought I was special.”
“You special. Plus, you know before Abrax.”
“That is true. Oh, how I’ll rub it in his face.” Her grin is so wide, it glows brighter than the moon moth that’s landed on her shoulder.
“Rub what in face?” At her frown, I deduce it must be an expression. “What mean?”
“Ah. It means to tell him—repeatedly—that I knew it before he did.”
“He no like that.”
“Nope. He will certainly not like that.”
Her delight lures a smile to my lips. “You a little wicked.”
