“Where exactly in Luce would you like to go?” Erwin asks.
I remember Sybille telling me that her family tavern faces the human neighborhoods. Humans are mortal. So I give him the name of the Amaris’ tavern.
He palms his waterlogged hair. “If you wanted some ale, I could’ve carried some over.”
“It isn’t ale I want.”
His mouth pinches. “I’m hoping that what youwantis to see Sybille.”
“Yes. Exactly. I want to see her.”
“Better be, or Cathal will fluff his pillows with my feathers.”
My skin pebbles in spite of the thick hide I wear. “Why would he do that?”
“BecauseBottom of the Jugstill operates as a brothel.”
My head rears back. “You think I’ve asked you for a ride to Luce to sate some sexual desire?”
“I don’t know. Your mate’s pretty green.”
“Please just take me there. And don’t tell Cathal. I don’t need him breathing down my neck.”
“Should I tell Fallon?”
“Yes. You can tell Fallon, but no one else.”
“All right. Let’s go before your grandmother stakes me with obsidian.”
Though it seems outrageous, I realize that she probably would. “I’m sorry for putting you at risk.”
“A bargain’s a bargain,” he says, before melting into feathers at the foot of my stone stairs.
Pulse racing, lungs tight, I climb onto his back and loop my arms around his neck. Once we clear the tall fortifications, my ribs loosen, but not my lungs. They cling to every sip of wet air. When we finally puncture Lorcan’s thunderous cloud cover, I unwind my arms and sit up. The stars are bright over Luce; the air thick with lavender plumes of smoke that coil out of every chimney.
The air is so nippy that I burrow into Erwin’s borrowed coat like a mollusk in a conch shell. It grows a fraction warmer as we begin our descent toward the westernmost isle of Tarelexo, toward a wharf that must host a marketplace, considering the amount of tethered wooden vessels and heaped crates overflowing with iridescent scales and headless foul.
Though I know the Lucins eat fish and meat, the sight and reek of carrion turns my stomach. My heart stutters as I become aware that I’m wearing some animal’s hide, for fur doesn’t grow on trees. I pop my head out of the collar. Though grateful for the warmth it affords me, my skin itches with eagerness to shed it.
The humans and Faeries milling about below scatter as we land. One sweep of my lurid hair has them freezing. They stare unabashedly, so I do the same. I note that most of the two-legged folk around me have rounded ears and coarse garments that run the gamut of browns and grays. How long will it take Lorcan and Fallon to blur the social disparity produced by five centuries of Faerie rule?
Erwin shifts the second I slide off his back, then palms the middle of my spine, guiding me away from the gawkers and toward a glowing abode trimmed with a sapphire canopy bearing gold letters. I imagine they read:Bottom of the Jug. TheShabbin and Lucin alphabets aren’t the same, so I recognize no letter. Not that I’m all that great at reading Shabbin, as Kanti so kindly pointed out.
Cheery music seeps around the weathered mullions that divide the thick panes of glass. I let it envelop me and drive away my shortcomings. When Erwin pulls open the door, a gust of warmth engulfs my cheeks. Scanning the crowd, I start to unfasten the buttons on my borrowed jacket, but at the sight of familiar blue eyes, I freeze like the audience on the wharf.
Chapter 34
Zendaya
The odd injunction I overheard over breakfast three days past scores my buzzing eardrums.I’d thought little of Agrippina since Enzo had blustered out of my chamber. Truthfully, all I’ve thought about is my selfish craving to make another Serpent.
“Santo Caldrone!” Sybille’s exclamation stabs my eardrums, whisking my attention off the orange-haired Faerie, who’s obviouslynotlost.
I greet Fallon’s closest friend with a nod and a smile.
“What now?” Erwin grumbles as Sybille tosses aside a kitchen towel and blusters out from behind a long wooden bar.
“You can go, Erwin. You’ve repaid my bargain,” I murmur.
