The queen hisses at Cathal in Crow. So much blood has risen into her cheeks that even her irises appear crimson.
“I think it’s time, Priya.” Behati keeps her voice soft, as though she senses that speaking any louder will make her monarch rage. “Especially if wearetaking her out of Shabbe.”
“I’ve changed my mind about the trip. She stays here.” The queen takes off toward the steps still jutting from the sandstone wall.
Cathal’s arms fold a little more snugly over the black top that clings to his broad chest like sand clings to mine. “I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible for I struck a bargain with Daya the other day.”
She swings around. “You didwhat?”
“She figured out how the waterrises operated, so I bargained for her to never approach one in exchange for which I’d fly her out of Luce for Fallon’s nuptials.”
The queen’s full lips are a pale slash on her tanned face.
Cathal fixes her with his penetrating stare. “You know as well as anyone that one cannot renege on a bargain.”
Though I follow their discussion, a part of me remains stuck to the question Priya failed to answer. I repeat it, because I want an answer. Ineedone.
“Yes.” It’s Cathal who replies. Not Priya. Priya’s too busy glowering at him.
Meriam is Cathal’s mate.
Meriam, who isn’t dead.
No wonder the Crow stayed in Shabbe if his mate is here. And no wonder he loathes the queen if she imprisoned her. The only thing I do still wonder is why he spends so much time with m?—
Oh.
The answer drips over me like the coolest water—it pebbles my skin and chills my spine. Not even the sunlight baking the land manages to reach me. I clutch my elbows and glare hard at the male who pretends to care, even though all he truly cares about is securing a stay in the queendom to remain near his imprisoned mate.
“You trick me again, Crow.” I shake my head. And then I turn and stalk past a confounded Priya, leaving black footprints in my wake, ones Cathal Báeinach better not follow.
But he does, for when I storm into my bedchamber, there the male is.
Chapter 15
Zendaya
“Get out,” I snarl.
“Not until you tell me why you’re so livid.”
“I no want talk to you. I want bathe.” I streak into my bathroom and slam the door.
Nevertheless, the Crow swirls underneath the door.
After spinning the faucet, I whirl on him and smack his chest with both palms. “I heal you. Go home.” I try to shove him away, but his boots remain firmly planted on the stone.
“Like I said, Príona, I’m not leaving until you enlighten me about this mood you’re in, of which I seem to be the cause.”
I grip his shirt, sad I cannot shift into a bird for I would love to sprout talons and shred the fabric like he shredded my trust. “You use me, Crow!”
His thick black eyebrows dip over his craggy nose. “Youoffered to heal me, Daya.”
“I no talk about infection. I talk about stay in Shabbe.”
His frown deepens.
“Younotmy sentry. Queennoemploy you! She say to me this.”
