His third sister’s name tickles my tongue.
I spend a full minute trying to fashion a question that won’t betray the promise I made my father. “Did you feel the same way about Alyona?”
His features, already so severe, sharpen like the icicles clinging to the roof’s edge. “Yes.”
Interesting. What would prove even more so would’ve been a padded answer. I wait. He adds nothing else for me to nibble on.
“You’re lucky to have so many siblings. I mean, Naevislike a sister, and Elio and Lach like brothers, but still…I would love for my parents to have more children.”
“They surely will.”
“Fingers crossed.” Since he makes no move to return indoors, I pursue chatting. “Do you know where the expression comes from?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever looked into it, no.”
“It has its roots in Shabbin folklore. The symbol to create a ward is composed of intersecting lines. A knot of sorts.”
To my great frustration, a highly complex one that I’ve never been able to reproduce, because each time I lift my finger to sketch a new shape, the whole design wobbles, and I either misplace the necessary curl or angle it wrong. Mimi insists it’s a feat for even the most skilled bloodcaster, but plenty of my peers have already mastered it.
“Wards are supposed to keep evil at bay, thus the crossed fingers,” I finish.
“Fascinating.”
“I’ve noticed your palace is warded.”
“Only my private quarters. At least, they’resupposedto be. It was a gift from your great-grandmother Meriam for my coronation.”
“Along with your necklace?”
His bruised lip kinks. “You’re well-informed.”
“I’m a curious person.”
“Curiosity has killed many cats.”
“Thank Mórrígan I’m not of the feline genus then.” I grip the cold, varnished log at my back. “So, the reason I couldn’t shapeshift earlier was because of the medallion, or because your rooms are warded?”
“My medallion only prevents magic and iron from irreparably harming me.Apparently. I wouldn’t put it past Meriam to have given me a false sense of invulnerability, though.”
“I could ask her.” I let go of the railing and step toward him. “Or…I could try a little spell.”
“Definelittle spell.”
“I could chop the tip off one of your fingers. I’d grow it back immediately.”
His lips remain crooked. “Tempting.”
“I’d offer to lengthen your nail, but that’s not exactly an attack, so it wouldn’t help test the effectiveness of the medallion?”
“Why such a vested interest in whether I can be harmed?”
“I’m a curious person, remember?”
“So, you’re not looking to injure me further?”
Not tonight…“I don’t know about you, but I actually enjoy not being at war.”
It takes him almost a full minute to uncross his arms, and then another to present me with his pinkie. “Worst comes to worst, it’ll grow back on its own as long as you don’t use iron talons, correct?”
