20. Zendaya

Chapter 20

Zendaya

A fter plunging into a notch in the rock, we soar down a hallway wide enough to accommodate Crows in their beast form. Torches grip the walls, splashing an amber glow over the gray. Below us, Crows traipse in human form, toting baskets filled with produce and soaps and cloth as though they've just come from a market or are heading to one.

A small Crow jabs a finger our way, and then he's racing underneath us, repeating Cathal's name and the word Shabbin. Cathal slows and swoops low, allowing the child to catch up. And the juvenile does, which earns him a brush of Cathal's wingtip. Like the little girl in the Sahklare, the boy smiles, revealing a mouth full of missing teeth.

I relax my hold on Cathal's neck and straighten, and then I curve my lips. The small Crow blinks, then pushes a lock of black hair off a face still bare of feather tattoo and gapes at me. I assume it's my temporary pink eyes that are giving the child pause, but a glance at the braid that's slipped over my shoulder reveals it's the sight of my uncommon hair color.

Did my grandmother's magic wane already?

When more Crows begin to gather and gape, I sink my fingers into the feathers of Cathal's neck. Cathal must sense my anxiety for he rises and increases his speed, leaving the crowd behind. We fly for long minutes before he drops again. This time, his talons click against stone.

He morphs into smoke before I can climb down, then winks into skin and encloses me in his arms. For a long moment, he doesn't speak, just stares, and I stare back. So distracted by the tendu's attack, I hadn't paid attention to the Crow's appearance. He looks ravaged by fatigue. His hair pokes out in black tangles that halo a face as pale as the child's, but smudged with purple. What holds my attention isn't so much his pallor, but the crimson veining the whites of his eyes.

"Is infection back?"

With a frown, he sets me on my feet. "No. Why?"

"Eyes very red."

His throat moves over a swallow as sharp as the serrated peaks of Monteluce. Without replying, he turns and shoves open a large wooden door, then nods to the room beyond. I slip ahead of him, squinting into the obscurity. It is a cavern with many armchairs set around a metal table that appears wrought from the same metal as Crow talons. It shines darkly in the faint light cutting into the room through slits in the walls. I pad closer, my lids lifting at the sight spilling before me—rolling rock covered in trees like none I've ever seen before. Their leaves are fiery—a medley of gold and orange sprinkled through with green.

The air stirs as Cathal comes to stand beside me. "Autumn has come early."

I glance up at him, at the sunrays carving into the darkness of his face, making his features starker instead of brighter.

He gestures toward the trees. "I can tell by the color of the forest." At my frown, he explains, "When the weather grows cold, the trees here change hue before losing their leaves. They'll remain bare throughout winter, then sprout new leaves during spring. It's called seasons. You do not have them in Shabbe." He turns fully toward me now, his gaze stroking over my face, as if hoping to locate a shred of memory. "When you arrived in Luce, the first time we met?—"

Though I suddenly want to hear all about it, I shut him down with an abrupt, "No talk of past," for I know it will hurt us both. Especially him. I don't add this out loud, sensing the male might take offence at being found weak in any way. "Where Fallon and Lore?"

"It was winter when we met. There was snow everywhere. When you noticed it, your eyes grew fucking huge because it was the first time you had ever seen some." And then he stalks past me and throws open a set of wooden doors.

I wedge my lips together, because I want to know more about this snow and why my eyes widened, but if I dip a single toe into my past, it'll create ripples, and those ripples are bound to have consequences.

I follow him past the doors, repeating, "Where Fallon and?—"

The male's tossed off his shirt. His skin, although shades paler than mine, is riddled with the same puckered flesh as mine—scars.

I touch the one around my neck. "What doing?"

"I'm getting a change of clothes."

I stare around me, suddenly understanding where it is we are. "You cave this?"

He snorts as he drops down onto the large bed to remove his boots. He tosses them aside before standing and pushing down his pants in one fell swoop. No color stains his cheekbones this time.

I find my hand floating to the doorframe as he pivots toward his armoire, the muscles beneath his skin roiling and clenching as he moves. Even though I'm uncertain how it's possible, he seems so much broader without his leathers.

He turns and catches me staring.

Since he's stared his fill of me every time I've swam in the Amkhuti, it feels fair to study his front, which is just as muscled as his rear. The only remotely soft spot on this male's body is the cock that hangs between his legs, but even that begins to harden as I stare.

"It's our cave, Daya. The one you picked for us to live in as a family. You and me and"—there's a hitch in his breathing—"our child."

My heart emits a beat that is so bladed it gores me.

"You loved the snow so much that you wanted to live in the north." He throws on a black shirt that clings to his skin like my swallow clings to my throat. "With me ."

I roll my lips, pushing down the lump that's making it difficult to breathe. He needs to stop living in the past. For both our sakes.

I turn toward the living area. "Where Fallon?"

"She's already in Isolacuori."

I faintly remember Phoebus telling me that this was where the kings of old had made their home in Luce. "So why we here?"

"Because"—leather whispers up legs, boots clunk—"like I said, I needed a change of clothes"—metal grinds and clicks—"and my armor."

"Why no leave me on boat?"

"Your safety is my number one priority, Príona." His voice is so near that I whirl back around.

"I safe with Taytah and Akwale."

"Didn't look it when that tendu tried to maul you."

"I pink eyes on the boat." I almost jab my finger into them to drive my point in. "Tendu no harm Pink-eyes."

He dips his face low. "They should've known better than to trust that the spell was enough to disguise your scent." His nostrils flare. "I could smell you from the skies, Sífair."

I swallow, my saliva gliding right through this time. "How I smell?"

"Like the ocean. Mach mo moannan ." Mok mo meanan.

I know the last word, but what does mok mo mean? I purse my lips, wishing I understood his language so he could stop using it to confuse me. He tilts his face, waiting for me to ask for a translation…daring me.

I don't take his bait. We've been gone long enough. "You done dress?"

He nods.

"So we go." I start toward the door.

Cathal doesn't follow. He just stands there, arms crossed over an iron breastplate. "You and I aren't going anywhere until you share with me what it was that Behati told you before leaving your chambers."

I cast my eyes on the leather armchairs. "No."

"Then I guess we'll miss our daughter's nuptials."

I glower at him. "You no want to know. Trust me."

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't be asking, now, would I?"

My jaw grinds from how hard I now clench it. "Just vision."

"Of?"

"Of me. No concern you, Crow."

He cracks his knuckles. "Yet I feel concerned, so do tell me more, Sífair."

"Cathal, please. Go."

"The instant you tell me, I'll take you to Isolacuori."

Since I don't feel the prick of a bargain, I suspect this isn't one.

The stubborn Crow continues to push. "If it doesn't concern me, then I really don't see why you're so reticent about?—"

"Behati see new mate!" I feel winded shouting the words. "You happy now, Crow?"

I can tell from the nerve jumping in his jaw that he's anything but pleased. Well, too bad for him. Perhaps it'll teach him not to pry into someone else's business.

"I tell you. We go. Now ." I march toward the door. "Do I need drag you or you come?" I perch my palms on my hips. When he makes no move to follow, I huff a " Fine " and retrace my steps, clasp his wrist and yank.

Futile. Unless he chooses to move, he won't.

"Please, Cathal."

"So impatient to meet your new mate?" His voice is as cold as his stare.

"No. I impatient see Fallon! I impatient heal wounded Crows! I impatient get sigil before everyone see pink hair!"

Icy umber meets blazing black. "Who?"

"Who what ?" I snap.

"Who is to be your new mate ?" He bites out the word as though it now tastes foul.

"I not know him."

"But, perhaps, I do? Who?"

"Why you want know?"

"Call it morbid fascination."

I don't understand what that means, but I say, "I meet him on beach tonight. He no hair."

"Did he have a feather? Stripes?"

I dig into my memory. "No. Face bare."

His lips curl.

"Why you smile?"

He walks toward the door and opens it.

"Cathal Báeinach, why you smile?"

"Because your mate is not one of my brothers."

My eyebrows glance against one another. I hadn't even considered the Mahananda mating me to another Crow.

"Come, mo Sífair ."

The word serpent, I understand, but not mo . That's twice that he's used it. "What mean mo ?"

The impossible, mercurial male grins wider, so wide that it makes my heart hold still before bumping like a tossed pebble. He flings open his cave's door and waits. It's only as I step past him that he murmurs, "My."

He shifts before I can remind him that I'm not his. I suppose he'll only understand this once he sees me with my new mate. I suddenly picture how this will go and the expression that'll score his face. It's best if he never lays eyes on the male, for Cathal might decide to also lay a talon on him, and since the male the Mahananda chose for me won't be a shifter, a talon would hurt him.

My breath suddenly seizes, and not because we hurtle out of the Sky Castle, but because I finally grasp the cause of Cathal's dusky smile. Had my mate been a shifter, nothing could've harmed him, neither the Crow I ride, nor a weapon made of obsidian, thanks to my healing tongue.

If my mate is human…

Oh, Great and Powerful Mahananda…

What will Cathal Báeinach do to him?