“You obviously don’t know me if you think I’d leave you here by yourself.”
“I’m not alone; Sybille’s here.”
“No offence to the half-Fae, but until another Crow shows up to guard you, I’ll be sticking around.”
“Is my daughter on her way?”
“Yes. She should be here shortly,” he says, just as Sybille squeezes me into a hug that’s so tight I feel the hard lump of life swelling her abdomen.
She fires a string of rapid Lucin words, evidently forgetting that her tongue isn’t yet mine. The sight of my rumpled brow leads Erwin to say, “She’s asking what brought you to her tavern. Something I’m also keen to learn.”
Since telling them that I’ve come to collect a human on the brink of death is out of the question, I forage my mind for the few Lucin words I know, coming up with: “Necessitudo scando.”
Crow and Faerie gawp, first at me, then at each other.
My cheeks begin to prickle. “What?” I ask, in Shabbin this time.
“You had me carry you to Luce for hallucinogenic substances, Rajka?” Erwin asks.
My head rears back. “What? No!”
“Scandomeans a mind trip,” he says.
“I meant a change of scenery. I needed out of Shabbe for a couple days.”
Erwin snorts. “The word you’re looking for isiterio. Trip of the body.”
The second he pronounces the correct term, the corners of Sybille’s mouth flip up and she laughs.
“Can you ask Sybille if she has any rooms to let?”
He mashes his lips.
I tilt my head, waiting. When a minute has passed and he still hasn’t relayed my request, I add a, “Please?”
“We’ve vacant rooms in the Sky Castle.”
Except a room in the Sky Castle won’t give me free rein to wander Luce and locate my next Serpent. “I prefer to stay in the city.”
Our hushed debate quiets Sybille.
“The city isn’t safe,” he hisses.
I glance around me at the tables full of patrons who are either midmeal or mid-card game. “Battles might be waged, but evidently not in here.”
My gaze lands on an umber-skinned male who sports more glitter on his face and bare torso than Erwin sports charcoal. His jaw is slack, his eyes wide, unlike the male whose lap he sits on, whose features are as tight as the satin belt pleating the silk panels of my indigo dress.
If I were to be perfectly honest, the mixture of awe and revulsion directed my way is disquieting. But honesty won’t help me grow my tribe, so, as I finally finish unbuttoning Erwin’s coat, I paste on a smile to appear amicable and square my shoulders to appear confident.
“Your daughter won’t like you staying in the Fae lands,” he mumbles. “I doubt she’ll sanction it.”
I hand over the hide. “I’m her mother.”
“This is her kingdom.”
“I’m aware.” I turn toward Sybille, trying to recall the word for bedchamber in Lucin. When I cannot, I decide to mime my intent by pressing my palms together and laying one cheek on them.
As my hands come back down to my sides, Sybille gnaws on her lower lip. Is she reluctant to let me stay here because of Erwin or because she shares the Crow’s worries? A third theory has me ruing myself. In my haste, I forgot to pack coin. The roll of my pearl bracelet along my wrist has me unclasping it and holding it out to her.
