9. Zendaya

Chapter 9

Zendaya

I hug Fallon tightly, my heart aching that she's leaving me behind.

"I'll come back any chance I get," she says, before proceeding to prove this to me with images that she pours into my mind.

I see us swimming together—in the Amkhuti. I see us lounging around my garden and sharing meals around the table we've just vacated. Although it should ease the ache behind my ribs, it doesn't, because I don't want to only see Fallon in Shabbe. I want to see her in Luce.

I suddenly remember how the waterrise plucked my body from the moat. How far could I swim before someone notices my absence and forces me back to the Vahti? Could I reach the ramparts? Could the waterrise there lift me over the isle's fortified walls without anyone being the wiser?

The prospect buoys my trodden spirits. Even if I don't reach the ramparts, I'd meet other serpents. What if I could converse with them? Maybe they could help me find my way out of Shabbe… What if they hate me and gore me with their tusks?

"As soon as the Mahananda speaks to Priya, I will send word to you," Behati says, hand wrapped snugly around the pommel of her cane.

Fallon's palms slip off my forehead as she twists toward her quiet father, who stands in the trellised shadow of the courtyard, arms folded, chin tipped low, gaze riveted to the Mahananda.

"How long before…?" Her voice drifts like Cathal's stare.

"My guess is that it will take the Mahananda as long to recover as it did between Zendaya's and your dip," Behati says. "Three weeks to a month. Perhaps longer."

Fallon returns her attention to the seer. "No, I meant Dádhi's transformation from skin to stone."

Behati presses herself straighter, as though her arm aches from leaning on her cane. "I suspect it depends on how fast his blood carries the toxin to his heart."

Fallon's cheek dimples as though she were biting the inside of it.

"I understand you feel duped by what's happened," the seer says, "but the Mahananda's intent wasn't to harm."

The corner of Fallon's eye twitches. "He'd have been unstoppable without his curse."

Behati inhales slowly, exhales even slower. "The Crows are our allies and emissaries, Fallon."

"Except you can travel freely now, so what need do you have for emissaries?"

"We still need allies. Even though our ramparts are strong, you'll find that the world's thirst to possess the Mahananda is stronger." Behati cants her head, sending the river of white and gold flowing over hunched shoulders. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I believe everyone wants to own the source of all magic. What I have my reservations about is the second thing. Sending me in his stead."

"How can I dispel your doubts, child?"

"Blood-bind Lorcan and me."

I frown.

"I'd need to ask Priya, but?—"

A resounding, "No," slips from Lorcan's tense lips.

Fallon swings her gaze his way. "Why not?"

"The Cauldron may interpret having access to your magic as greed and refuse to break my curse."

"It's not greed if I give it to you willingly, Lore."

He must refuse once more through their mind link, because Fallon works her pointy jaw from side to side.

"How about I swear to bind you and Lorcan in Shabbin matrimony once his curse is broken? Would that restore your faith in the Shabbins?" Behati suggests.

Fallon's lips part, and I think she's about to say, "Yes," but a sideways glance at her mate quiets her. "Lore says no bargains, but thank you, Behati." She gives the seer a smile that unravels some of the tension between the sorceresses and the Crows. "Let me go say goodbye to my father."

Goodbye? After everything that came to pass, I imagined Cathal might've changed his mind about staying. Then again, if he's going to turn to obsidian, it's probably best he remain in close proximity to the Mahananda.

Behati stares after Fallon. "Do not turn her against Priya, Mórrgaht. She is of her blood."

"So was Meriam. Sorry. So is Meriam."

I've heard that name susurrated parsimoniously around the Vahti. It's forever accompanied by a beat of weighted silence and a quick press of lips, as though it isn't a name but a curse. Sure enough, that's exactly what happens to Behati whose lips thin and pupils retract.

"A shame we cannot drain her," Kanti chirrups from right over my shoulder.

I jump, not having realized she'd crept so close, and shimmy away. When shadows churn beside me, I startle again, settling when they take the shape of my Crow guard.

"Geez"—Kanti blows air through lips slicked with a fresh coat of pink—"it wasn't a threat, Mórrgaht."

Did he speak into her mind? Fallon mentioned he could pour words inside the heads of non-Crows. Well, except into mine.

"I'm well aware of the reason the traitress must be kept alive," Kanti continues.

This is the most information I've gathered on this Meriam: she's a traitress of Priya's bloodline.

Cathal fists his fingers, then stretches them, eliciting cracks. "In case you ever forget the reason, I'll be glad to remind you."

"Now that sounded like a threat," Kanti whines. "But are we sure the spell endures? You know, since she doesn't have blood magic?"

Meriam's of Priya's bloodline but doesn't have magic? How's that possible?

"It's not a risk we're willing to take." Lorcan's timbre is so dark and cold it thrusts a chill up my spine.

"Priya gave you an oath that no harm would befall Meriam, Mórrgaht." Behati's reminder seems to ease the Sky King's tension.

"Are you ready?" he asks Kanti.

She flourishes a hand toward two giant trunks filled with her belongings. "All packed." She leans over to kiss Behati's cheeks. "You'll have to send word of how tomorrow goes." Her eyes flick to me. "Daya's first swim with?—"

"Kanti." Behati's eyes widen, a warning for her to hush.

The tempo of my heart peaks anew. My first swim with what ? With who ?

"Oops." Kanti shrugs and mentions how I surely have no clue what she's going on about. She's right, nevertheless, it irks me. "Off to conquer an enemy heart." She flings me a smile that glows as bright as the moon moths fluttering around the Vahti. "Farewell, scaly one."

I will not miss her.

"Shall we depart, Lore? I'm simply dying to set my eyes upon your kingdom!"

"Mórrgaht," he says. "Not only am I your elder, but for the foreseeable future, I'll also be your ruler."

Her white smile loses much of its vigor. "You'll still be my elder once I'm queen. Will you demand I call you by your title then, Mórrgaht ?" She rolls the ‘R's in his name, snapping them out disdainfully.

Queen? Queen of what?

Lorcan's golden eyes flick toward Behati. "I wasn't aware Priya was planning on abdicating."

"Every good monarch needs to allow the next generation to rise at some point," Behati says.

"And Priya's thinking of naming Kanti as her successor?" One of Lorcan's eyes spasms as though the news unsettles him.

I imagine it's because it would mean the male Kanti's destined to seduce would rule alongside her. I might not understand every intricacy about reigning, but I do understand that having an enemy guarding the Mahananda cannot possibly please the Crow King. I suddenly worry that sending her to Luce is a terrible idea. Especially since she knows what obsidian can do to Crows.

"She knows Shabbe and its people better than any other blood relative of Priya's," Behati says, her gaze drifting over a wing of the palace I've yet to explore before settling over me.

Kanti raises her chin, pride wafting off her sun-kissed skin like fragranced oil.

Lorcan frowns. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Behati, but I thought the incumbent queen could only volunteer a successor. Isn't it ultimately the Cauldron's choice?"

"That's correct."

What a frightening, fascinating entity, this Mahananda…

After Kanti and the Crows depart, I mull over everything I learned tonight. Because of this, I forget to corner Cathal. As I reach my bedchamber door, I glance over my shoulder, but no large, brooding male stands in the courtyard. I lift my gaze to the sky—full of constellations but empty of birds. It's possible Cathal's injury drove him to retire in the guest wing. How empty it must feel tonight. I could ask Asha to lead me to him, but I suppose it can wait a day.

I try to sleep but my mind crackles with so many things that I toss the sheets off my legs and open the doors to my garden, and then I plod down the stone steps, through the lush palms and low brush toward the tall hedge that keeps my quarters secluded from the rest of the royal gardens.

I haven't lain all five fingers on the hedge before smoke billows before me, thickening into the shape of a male.

"Going somewhere, Príona?"