Though I sense my mate wants to whisk me toward Monteluce, he indulges me. Six heartbeats later, I’m kneeling beside my daughter, who is inspecting the wan, lanky body. “I try heal him, but he drown.”
Fallon frowns, pressing two fingers into his neck. “Well you revived him, Mádhi. He has a pulse.”
I blink. “He do?”
She nods.
“Who is this man, Daya?” Cathal stands over us, a deep scowl marring his tenebrous face.
“He fisherman I follow to find Luce. He save me from yellow-hair human who try stab me.”
Cathal’s eyes skim the horizon, his attention locking on something in the distance. “Imogen, bring me the blond captain of that boat.” He juts his chin. “Alive.” As she flies off, he mutters, “Your grandmother’s on her way. Unless you want to see me eviscerated, we should leave soon.”
I glance toward the ocean, toward her red sails that are bloated even though there’s not a single drop of wind.
“Don’t you want to deal with theannos dòfainfirst, Dádhi?”
Cathal snorts. “Yes. But as soon as that’s done, we leave. If…” His eyes go to mine. “If that is what you want, Daya?”
“Yes.” My answer smooths all the fine lines crinkling his face.
“I’ll wait here until imTaytah docks.” Fallon straightens and dusts the sand off her sodden dress.
Blacksand.
I swing my gaze back to the male lying on the beach, my chest tightening, my breaths shortening.
I palm his bony jaw, twisting it toward the moon.
The hooked nose. The wide lips set in a face that doesn’t bear a single wrinkle. The cropped hair that is…that is…I can’t tell its hue in such faint light.
He stirs. I release him so fast that his cheek smacks the sand. I rock back, then scuttle away. I think Cathal is calling my name but I can’t hear him over my rushing pulse.
The boy’s lids open, and I gasp because…because…
I lick my lips. How is this possible?
Cathal clasps my biceps and rights me before twirling me into his body, and then he scrapes his palms over my arms, ribs, cheeks.
“The Queen of Luce and her father are standing beside me. And…is that…holycastagnoli, that’s the Princess of Shabbe.” The unfamiliar voice must belong to the Serpent boy. “This must be the afterlife.”
Fallon gasps, “Dádhi!”
Cathal tears his gaze off mine. I know the instant he sees what Fallon saw, what I saw, because his chest grows eerily still and his hands freeze on my body. I close my stinging eyes as Fallon asks the man a question in Lucin.
“Enzo, M-Maezza,” he replies.
A tear slips down my cheek, chased by a second and a third.
“My head. My head!” At his howl, I pry my eyes open and spin. He’s swiping at his black-smeared forehead.
Cathal stands rigidly at my back, his armor cold against my spine.
The fisherman grits his teeth, stifling another gritty howl before rubbing his forehead once more. This time, I realize it isn’t sand—it’s blood. And amidst the black, blooms an ivory dot.
Although my heart still thunders, I hear Fallon murmur, “I think Mádhi did more than heal him.”
Cathal doesn’t speak. I don’t either.
