My breath hitches, and he snatches his hand away as if I’ve burned him.
Another sound breaks through the last dregs of the spell, and I twist around only to find the raven flying down the library toward us, the lioness silently trotting behind.
I stare at the strange tableau, the two animals, one black and the other white, moving inside this dark, mysterious, tomb-like place. We’re small like moths inside the vastness of this domed, columned temple.
“Is she up? She’s up!” The raven flies down to us just as the lioness reaches us, ruby tongue lolling. “What did she say her name was? What has she told you?”
“Tal, be quiet,” Roane says.
“You don’t get to tell me when to be quiet,” the raven retorts, landing on the nest a few feet away from me. “Right, girl?”
“I’m Aline. I…” I sit up properly and a gasp escapes me as fire shoots through my ribs. I press my hand there, biting my lip.
Roane’s frown turns into a glower. “I asked if you were hurt and you said nothing. Show me.”
“It really is nothing,” I say through gritting teeth. “A bruise.”
“She was knocked over,” the lioness says. “It’s no wonder she’s bruised.”
“Show me!” Roane is suddenly on me, hands tearing at my dress, eyes dark and blank. It’s terrifying. He tears the bodice of my dress apart, baring my dirty chemise and he lifts it without permission. “Where?”
I fight him and bat at his hands, but he doesn’t stop, although his movements gentle a little. Not until he’s bared my skin, hard fingers poking into sore flesh.
It hurts. “Stop! Roane?—”
“You’re wounded. Bruised, cut. Hurt. You didn’t tell me! How…?” His gray eyes widen and he leans away, his gaze moving over me. “I…”
“Take a breath, Ro,” the lioness says. “Just take a breath and calm down. She will be fine.”
His eyes are still wide, gray oceans, golden clouds traveling in their cores. “Did I hurt her, did I…?”
“It wasn’t you,” the lioness says. “It was the goblins, remember?”
Roane backs away from me until he all but falls out of the niche. Then he scrambles to his feet and turning, he runs away, long hair flying, vanishing among the columns.
The raven is quiet, head cocked to the side, watching us all with bright, golden eyes.
Ardruna huffs.
Gathering my torn yellow dress against my chest, I scoot away until I hit the wall of the niche. “What…?” I wet my dry lips with my tongue. “What was that about?”
“Don’t mind Roane.” The lioness settles down on her haunches on the mosaic floor and nudges the pot toward me. “Have some more soup before it goes bad.”
Swallowing hard, I glance down at my ruined dress. Well, Naida was nothing if not practical and I’m her daughter in allbut blood. Untying my wide, fabric belt, I tie it under my breasts, keeping the bodice together.
Then I climb off the raised platform of the nest, settling on the cold floor beside her. “How do you even speak without…”
“Lips?”
I wince. “You do have lips. I meant without being human or fae.”
“Magic,” Ardruna says. “Didn’t you guess?”
“But what are you? Are you fae, after all? Dark fae shifters, like the werewolves who are said to be multiplying on the mountains?”
“I’ve never shifted or multiplied.” The raven hops down to the floor and pecks at something. “Have you ever shifted, Druna?”
“This is the only form I know,” Ardruna says.
