23. Cathal

Chapter 23

Cathal

K ing Vladimir stands at the railing of his galleon, his silver eyes stroking over Daya's features in a way that shakes her body with shudders. "Now, what have you fished out of the deep, Cathal Báeinach?" he asks in Glacin.

"Is that a mermaid?" one of his twins shrills.

"Mermaids only exist in those terrible books you read, Izolda," her sister quips.

Though I realize I cannot shield Daya entirely, one of my hands slips into her pink braid and presses her face into the crook of my neck, while the other curls around her waist.

"They're great books," Izolda mutters just as Daya releases a small whimper.

I faze the Glacins out and murmur in Shabbin, "What is it?"

"Nothing." Though she clenches her teeth, I catch a second whimper.

Evidently, it's not nothing.

"Would you like us to toss you a buoy?" As Vladimir caresses the dead fox ornament draped over his shoulder, his ivory bangles clink together.

That must be the reason for Zendaya's whimper: because she recognizes his bracelets' provenance. I want to rip them off his arms.

"Can you fly her back to our ship, Cathal?" Asha asks, not bothering to answer the Glacin King.

I will fly her out of Filiaserpens, but not onto any vessel. I cannot risk her jumping into the ocean again. I don't think my heart or lungs could take another fevered swim.

"Príona, get on my back and hold on to my neck," I whisper into her ear.

Once she does, I allow my body to swell. With a snap of my wings, I soar off the ocean's surface and past the gawping crowd.

Lore, please tell my daughter that I'm sorry for leaving.

Is everything all right?

It is now. Oh, and inform Priya that I'm bringing Daya home.

Which home?

Mine.

He snorts. Cannot wait for that conversation.

Daya is my mate.

Lorcan's silent, but it's a wrought silence. One that feels loaded with warnings not to get reattached. It's too late for that. Our minds may no longer be linked, but Zendaya's become the axis along which spins my entire world.

The metallic tinge of fear that washed over me when I realized the pink serpent was Daya… When her head vanished beneath the surface… When…

I beat my wings, hastening to outrun my fear, but it adheres to me like the woman on my back. When I feel her cheek press into my nape and her body relax against mine, my nerves stop crackling. Which isn't to say I calm—because I don't. As we crest over swamp, forest, and hill, tension bites at my marrow and nips at my muscles.

It's only once I swoop through the northern hatch of the Sky Kingdom hours later that a sense of ease washes through me. My journey down the hallway is slow and steady, my transformation, on the other hand, is short and abrupt. The second I am flesh, I whirl and snatch Zendaya's body before her feet can even graze the ground.

I thought she was sleeping but find her lashes lifted. I carry her over the threshold. I should probably set her down, but since she doesn't ask this of me yet, I transport her all the way to my bed. My relief winks out of existence when I notice the black stain on her dress. I crouch and grow out my talons to shred the dried fabric and get a clear picture of what I'm contending with. My gums ache when I spot a deep cut on her upper thigh.

If only I could lick her wound clo— I raise my hand to her mouth, hoping that the Sky Kingdom's walls won't block her healing ability. After all, it doesn't block Shabbin crystals. "Spit."

"What?"

"So you can heal yourself with that extraordinary saliva, mo Sífair ."

Her cheeks pinken. I hope it's because of my new nickname, and not because she's embarrassed to spit.

"My tongue heal, Cathal. Not water in mouth."

"Let's try it anyway."

As she props herself up onto one forearm, her cheeks hollow and she spits. I carefully drip the transparent salve into her cut.

I wait with bated breath for the skin to seal, but Zendaya's saliva merely pools in the wound before dribbling out, carrying along a streak of her black blood.

"I tell you. Tongue. And I no can reach in this form." She sticks out her tongue and hinges at the waist to demonstrate.

"But in your serpent form you could…"

"Yes."

"Do you need water to shift?"

She shrugs. "I need ocean, I think. I no turn Serpent in bath." She must sense my reticence to carry her back out of the castle and into the sea, because she grazes my cheek. "No hurt. I heal fast."

"Give me a second." I stand, throw off my armor and vambraces. "Don't move."

She stares up at me with those unfathomable eyes, made larger and blacker by the thick rim of her lashes. I wait for her nod before turning into smoke and streaking toward the healing quarters, which Arin stocks with salves that she pulps and brews herself, thanks to her flourishing herb garden.

I gather gauze, a safety pin, and a bottle labeled: "Staunches bleeding."

I tuck everything inside my trousers' waistband, then shift and return to my injured mate.

Who is not in my bed.

I'm about to storm the castle to locate her when I hear the water running in my bathing chamber. I step inside to find her standing naked in my shower with her face tipped up and her eyes closed. I pull my healing paraphernalia from my waistband and lay it out on the dark stone sink top.

Zendaya must sense my presence because she glances over her shoulder at me and sighs. "No work."

"What"—I swallow—"doesn't work?" I clear my throat that's grown husky at the sight of her glistening, tanned flesh. It isn't the first time I've laid eyes on her naked form, but it's the first time she stands naked in a space that is mine, knowing full well how fucking attracted I am to her.

"Shift to Serpent." She spins the dial on the wall. I'm surprised she even knew how it worked considering they don't have showers in her homeland, though they do have pipes and levers.

I rub the back of my neck and attempt to keep my gaze leveled on her face as she takes a towel and pats her skin dry, avoiding her gash.

"What you bring?" She is now rubbing the towel over her hair while the rest of her…the rest of her is bare.

"What?" I blink at her.

A small smile plays on her lips as she nods to my sink top.

"Ointment to stop the bleeding and a bandage to wrap around your thigh." My heart begins to racket as I picture wrapping the dressing and, holy fuck…I should probably suggest she do it herself. My leather breeches are suddenly so tight that I half expect to burst through the laces.

She's hurt, you fucking creep, I chide my cock that keeps swelling.

I close my eyes, nostrils flaring as I try to calm down before I put my hands on her body and play doctor.

"Cathal?" Her bright voice agitates my blood some more.

When I feel her hand on my jaw, I snap my lids up.

She flinches and lowers her arm. I want to snatch her wrist and carry her palm back to my cheek. I want her to touch me again. Instead, I snatch the bottle of ointment and unscrew the lid, and then I sprinkle the elixir onto my fingers and carefully slather the wound. Her hiss catches on my earlobe.

"Bearable?"

Teeth denting her bottom lip, she nods. Arin's ointment works like a charm. Although it doesn't magically seal Zendaya's wound, the black essence that runs through her veins no longer dribbles out.

My hand shakes as I set the bottle back down and seize the gauze. "I—um…I…"

She tilts her head.

"I'm going to wrap this around your, uh, leg."

She nods.

I step to the side before crouching, because unlike when she crouched before me, I've not an ounce of innocence. If I crouch in front of her mound, or in front of her ass…Mórrígan have mercy on my soul.

Keeping my gaze locked on the gash and the bruised skin ringing it, I unroll the gauze and begin to wrap it. Too low. I tug the strip up until it shelters the wound, then loop it once more, a little more snugly this time. As I pass the roll between her legs, my knuckle grazes her slit which causes a shallow breath to leave her lips and a ragged one to leave mine.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" I glower at her wound. "Touch you there."

Her throat clenches. "Like Fallon say, fair and square now."

"Let's not talk about our daughter right now."

"Why?"

"Because, Daya"—I tuck the safety pin through the gauze—"I'm having very unfatherly thoughts at the moment."

"Like what?"

I tip my head back to meet her stare. "Like how I'd like to touch you everywhere ."

Her throat dips. "I have question."

I sit back on my heels, spinning the gauze bobbin between my fingers to keep them at bay.

"Do I look like old Zendaya?"

"Identical."

"Except hair, eyes, and forehead." She pokes at the pearl.

"Yes. And scars. You got those when you became a serpent."

"So, skin was more pretty before?"

"No. Your skin is fucking beautiful now." As I stand, I smooth my fingers over the bandage, then allow them to drift higher, over the marked indent of her waist and the flared ladder of her ribs, before skimming them toward her spine. How I long to feel it bend like it would when she'd ride my dick. My balls tighten and my cock…it weeps for this new version of my mate. "Any lingering pain?"

When she shakes her head, I chuck the gauze aside, then wash my hands with soap that I end up scrubbing over my ugly face.

"Taytah angry that everyone see me?" she asks, winding the towel around herself.

"They would've eventually seen you, Daya. Besides, you've nothing to fear from any of them, for if they so much as caused your heart to beat out of rhythm, I'd kill them. And Lorcan would sanctify the killing since no one threatens a Crow's mate."

Her silence irks me. Is she thinking of that human the Cauldron foresaw her with? The mere thought of him has my innards cramping.

I will her to shatter the quiet. In her past life, she was so vocal and vibrant. Full of confidence and laughter. Mórrígan, how she could laugh. It would roll over the old stones of this castle and illuminate the dimmest hearts, especially mine. Always mine.

"Is Fallon angry I ruin nuptials?"

"You didn't ruin anything. Besides, like your grandmother said, the ceremony was all for show."

"Do Crows no marry?"

"We do."

"Before, we…marry?"

"No. We were in the middle of a war. Marriage wasn't exactly on our minds. Besides, we were mates with a child on the way." After toweling my face dry, I grab the block of charcoal and baste my fingers before painting fresh stripes. "We didn't need to prove we were together by exchanging vows in front of a crowd. In our case, the only thing marriage would've changed was my status, since you were slated to inherit the Shabbin throne."

She watches my blackened fingers drag from the shattered bridge of my nose to my throbbing temples. "Kanti want crown."

"She may want it, but it's still yours by birthright."

"Do you want crown, Cathal?"

Slowly, I turn and lean back. "I've never cared about crowns. The only thing I've ever given a damn about is my family."

I don't clarify who my family consists of, worried she may feel pressured to feel a certain way toward me since I still consider her my mate.

"Where you go?"

I frown. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why draw on face?" She flutters her fingers in the direction of my cheekbones.

I smile. "Because I'm a creature of habit."

"What is habit?"

"It's doing the same thing over and over."

"What habit else you have?"

"My life has always been so centered on fighting and keeping the Sky Kingdom safe that I never really developed other habits."

"You no read books like Phoebus?"

"Occasionally."

She tucks her tongue into the corner of her pillowy lips, making my attention taper there. "What do when no fighting or staring at me?"

I choke on a swallow, then cough.

She smiles. "You pink again, Cathal Báeinach."

I cross my arms.

"Why color change?"

"Because you make my heart beat erratically, which tosses the blood in my veins, causing it to converge in my face"—I nod to my crotch—"and lower."

She frowns.

I readjust myself.

Her eyes jump to mine. "I make cock pink?"

"You make my cock hard."

Her forehead scrunches. "I no understand. I thought cock hard when male is cold."

I balk but then laugh. "The opposite happens when a man's cold, actually. It retracts."

"Like tusk!" She says this excitedly, as though the parallel enchants her.

I smile gently. "How did you come to the conclusion of temperature?"

"When I cold, nipples get hard."

And now I'm staring at her breasts and those pretty beads presently digging into her towel. Fuck. She must be freezing. I push away from the sink, walk into my room, and bang open the door of my closet, coming up with a long-sleeved shirt.

When I turn, she's standing on the other side of the bed. "Until I find you more appropriate apparel"—I tread toward her—"here."

"Thank you." She unwinds the towel, exposing her perfect body to my depraved eyes before garbing herself with my shirt, and Great Mórrígan, I didn't think she could look sexier than she does naked or in her Shabbin gowns, but the way my shirt clings to her curves…

I refuse to believe that she isn't my mate. The pull I feel toward her is far too great.

She sits on the edge of the bed and wrings her hair. "I like room."

"Good, because it's yours."

She peeks at me over her shoulder.

"If you want it to be…" I add, praying she does.

"I want little Serpent." She strokes her flat abdomen. "I need seed to make babe. You have seed."

My heart misses a beat. Is she saying— "You want me for my seed?"

She blinks at my brash timbre. "Why this make mad?"

My throat contracts around a pissed-off swallow. "Because here I was, foolishly hoping you still felt something for me ."

She keeps studying me, and it feels like she's plucking me feather by feather, laying me bare. Finally, she asks, "You no want babe, Cathal, or you no want babe with me?"

I stab my hair. "I'm a Crow, Daya. Odds are, any child of mine will be a Crow. Like Fallon."

She stares down at the hem of my black shirt that hits her mid-thigh.

"Didn't consider that, did you?" I say gruffly.

She flinches.

"I'm guessing you don't want my seed now."

I will her lips to part and tell me that it doesn't matter. That she still wants me and my Crow seed. But she doesn't. Because it does fucking matter.

"I need to fly," I mutter.

Her onyx stare rises back to my face. I don't expect her to ask me to stay. I don't expect her to tell me that it isn't only my seed that she wants. I've no expectations yet I'm disappointed all the same when she doesn't call me back or ask how long I'll be gone.

If only my brother were still alive. I would've filled his ears with my pathetic anguish, but my brother can no longer give me advice, and my best friend is too busy convincing a bunch of idiot Faeries that he's the righteous ruler of this land. My annoyance is mine alone to carry and sort through.

I stalk out of the apartment, the wooden door groaning as I slam it shut in my wake. I don't shift immediately, preferring to pummel the stone with my boots. It's only once I've reached the hatch that I allow my blood to turn me into a beast.

Perhaps that's the reason the Cauldron didn't mate us in this lifetime… Because her intended is capable of giving her a baby Serpent.

I soar over the Sky Kingdom until stars prick the heavens and clarity pricks my mind. I may always belong to her, but in this lifetime, she doesn't belong to me. When I step back into the apartment, a dress I've borrowed from my daughter's closet slung over my forearm, an indigo veil has fallen over Luce and steeped my chambers in shadows.

My heart expels a pained beat as I take in the spillover of pink strands on the padded leather arm of the club chair Zendaya dragged toward the window. Was she watching for me? I shake my head at the selfish thought. The only reason anyone ever looks out is because they find their surroundings lacking.

Though my throat feels wadded with wool, I call out her name to warn her of my return. She doesn't stir so I set the dress down on the sofa and round the chair. Her cheek is pressed to the leather, her mouth parted around slow, rhythmic breaths, her lashes fanned out over her bronzed skin. Save for that pale dot in the middle of her forehead, with her eyes closed, she's the doppelganger of the woman Meriam robbed me of. How cruel. Why couldn't the Cauldron have given Daya another face?

With a sigh, I scoop her up and lay her on my bed, and then I stretch out beside her.

Tomorrow, I'll set her free.