“You still share a house with the two of them.”
“I also spend a lot of time with Mattia and Sybille in Luce. Am I spoilingtheirrelationship? How about we ask Elio? El, am I a horrible houseguest?”
Elio shifts his weight from boot to boot, as though itching to sprint away. Though his gaze flicks toward the bow, where his mother and Phoeppa are chatting with Milana and her sister, he doesn’t leave.
“I’m not interested in your perceived affability, Antoni. I’m interested in understanding why you don’t just move out on your own,” Naeva says.
“We can’t all afford our own homes, Rajka.”
“Oh, stop playing the card of destitute sailor.” Naeva tears her arm out of mine and tosses it in frustration. “You have a manor in Tarecuori.”
“That was burned to the ground.”
“The walls still stand.”
“You’ve visited?” Intrigue flickers across his face.
“No,” she lies.
How do I know she lies? Because I’ve visited it with her. Also, her face is rosy.
“I’ve just heard of it,” she continues. “The same way I heard that you have plenty of coin to buy that boathouse you’re always going on about.”
Antoni’s eyes narrow. “I wasn’t aware you were so well-acquainted with the state of my finances.”
“You’re a member of the Akwale, Antoni. I know how much every member cashes in for their work. It’s part of my job to know.”
“Your job, or your birthright?”
Naeva shakes her head with such vigor that the two long plaits I made in her hair flog my arm. “You’re a real jerk. No wonder you’re attached at the hip with your two buddies. You’re probably too fucking scared to go off on your own, since no one else in Shabbe and Luce can tolerate you.”
She must touch on a nerve, because the darkness of his eyes seeps over his lash line and envelops his entire face.
“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” He flings the branch into the ocean just as the enormous blue sails of the ship deploy to pull the ship out of its berth. “You don’t know me.”
Naeva huffs out a snort. “The thing is, Antoni, I don’tcareto know you. You don’t make anyone want to care.”
I curl my fingers over Naeva’s now-fisted fingers, proud of her for speaking her mind. As much as I tease her about the latent sexual tension, it doesn’t take away from the fact that Antoni behaves, more often than not, like a world-class jerk.
A shadow streaks between the two Serpents before materializing into the shape of a very large man. “Something the matter,ínon?”
“No,” Naeva says. “Actually, Dádhi, I’ve decided I’d prefer to fly than sail. Would you mind giving me a lift to Voshna?”
Jaytair glowers at Antoni, who has the good sense to lower his gaze, pivot, and walk away. When he reaches the other end of the giant galleon, my grandfather turns to face us. “What exactly did that one have to say?”
“Nothing of import.” Naeva tracks the blue-haired Serpent. “I was actually the one doing most of thesaying.”
Jaytair studies his daughter a moment longer.
“It’s true,” I reassure him, mainly to keep him from streaking toward Antoni and lopping off his head like I’ve heard him threaten to do over the years.
Despite the fact that it’s anatomically impossible—we shifters cannot be beheaded or delimbed—we can still be hurt. We can still bleed.
Zia Syb calls out to her son then. Although reluctant to leave our side, Elio heads toward her.
“Both of you, get on my back,” my grandfather says before morphing and crouching, wings tucked. Even though the ship is wide, there are too many masts to accommodate an outstretched limb.
It’s funny how he sometimes forgets I’ve my own wings to deploy. I give Naeva a leg up. “I prefer staying on firm ground today.”
