“Then, why?”
“Because the Cauldron keeps showing its keepers a prophecy where Alyona and I…interact.” A euphemism, but best not to divulge all.
The bang of cups followed by the clatter of cutlery comes through the shot glass, causing me to jump and fist the glass a little harder. I work on loosening my grasp before I shatter my link to the tavern.
“I took Lev’s face.” Konstantin’s voice is gravel.
“I’m aware that you duped me. I thank you for the reminder.”
“What I meant by that is that perhaps someoneborrowsmy dead sister’s face.”
My eyebrows jump, because I hadn’t considered that. “If you’re right, then that would mean a bloodcaster’s involved.”
“Or a bloodcaster’s the culprit.”
“Bloodcasters can’t be killed with iron, and that’s how I—”Focá.
“Interactwith my sister?” he deadpans.
A hiss followed by the distinct crack of a plate surges from the shot glass. “I said we needed to close down early tonight. Get yourself home, Ivan.”
“Boss wants to see you and Mesty, Svee.”
Mesty? Could that be the daughter’s name? Also, they have a boss? I thought Svyato owned the tavern?
Svyato must be sweeping the shards into a dustpan, because I hear the creak of bristles and the plink of shards. “Like I told that half-blood,Mesty went out.”
Metal dings. “Where?”
“Ivan Borislavic, put that thing away right this minute! I raised you better than that.” Since Ivan doesn’t call Svyato ‘Atsa,’ I figure the barkeep helped rear him out of villager solidarity, like we, Crows, do back in the Sky Kingdom. “I swear to Gods that if you?—”
Hinges groan, and then Ivan’s hollering Mesty’s name at the top of his lungs.
“For fuck’s sake,I told ya she was out,” Svyato snaps.
“Where’d she go?”
“Dunno. Mestyla’s a grown woman now. Once she’s done cookin’, she can go wherever she damn well pleases.” In exasperation, he adds, “I’ll fetch me jacket and go with ya.”Svyato must follow Ivan out of the tavern, for there is only silence after that.
My heart trounces my ribs. “I should fly back there. See who’s this boss they speak of.”
What if it’s Alyona?I think but avoid saying.
After a prolonged beat of silence, I reiterate my suggestion of heading back. More silence. If Konstantin weren’t still gripping my ribs, I would’ve assumed he’d returned to the tavern himself.
“Vizosh? Are you awake?”
“Svyato is well past three-hundred years old.”
How…random. “Why are you dwelling on his advanced age?”
“Because his daughter’s so young.”
“Unlike women, Faerie men can reproduce until they die, so he could very well be her father. Age aside, I think I should go back.”
“They’ll be long gone by the time we get there.”
“Not if I fly.”
