25. Zendaya

Chapter 25

Zendaya

M y heart has missed every beat since Cathal rumbled and vaulted out of bed. I prop myself up and scrutinize every last inch of him as he stalks into his living room. He doesn't seem injured or worried, which is somewhat reassuring. What he does seem is furious.

"What wrong?" I ask, as he pounds back toward me holding a sheath of stone-gray satin, the same hue as his bedchamber. Our bedchamber. "Lorcan and Fallon want to meet with us now."

My frown grows because, although their timing is inopportune, their company isn't. "And why this make mad?"

"Because I didn't exactly feel like getting out of bed," he mutters, the hollows of his cheeks as high in color as the harsh bones forever casting them in shadow.

I smile. "Soon as meeting over, we come straight back. Deal?"

A small smile jumps onto his lips before jumping off. Does he doubt I'll still want to, or is he worried Priya will cart me off to Shabbe?

I climb to my knees and seize his shoulders. "Cathal, where you go, I go. And where I go, you go." I cant my head. "Yes?"

He expels a harsh, "Yes," on an even harsher exhale.

"Even to Shabbe? In case Taytah send me?—"

"Even to Shabbe." He presses his mouth against mine as though to seal his promise. And then we are kissing again, and my head feels light, light, light, as though it's filled with air bubbles. "You need to get dressed," he murmurs against my lips.

I nod and pull off the shirt he lent me. His eyes flare, the brown burning a fiery red around his shrunken pupils.

"Actually, fuck them."

My brow rumples. "What mean fuck them ?"

"It means that they can wait." His palms shape my waist before gliding over my ribs and up to my breasts, which he cups in his rough hands. He leans forward, his face angled toward one of my very sharp nipples but halts his approach with a new snarl and a snap of his neck. "Oh, how I will cockblock him. Just he wait. Just he fucking wait."

I've no clue what Cathal is going on about, but he's even more livid than before. He pecks my lips, then tosses the gray satin over my head and helps guide my arms through the sleeves that stop mid-forearm, unlike the hem, that breaks past my ankles. The material is soft but stiffer than I'm used to, and grows even more so when he laces a wide strip of black leather around my navel. A glance into his bathing chamber mirror widens my eyes, because I discover I resemble a seasoned warrior instead of a delicate princess.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, coming to stand behind me, and my heart gambols at his compliment.

He tucks my hair to the side to kiss my neck, then must realize the strands are in dire need of brushing, because he seizes a wooden comb and runs it through the waist-long mess. Once he sets aside the comb, I recline against him and burrow my face into his corded neck. A deep pull of his scent—warm musk and wild moss—has my nerves quieting. I wonder if the fragrance of my skin is as alluring. What if I smell like a beached shell, or worse, like a dead fish—briny with a side of seaweed rot?

"What?" he murmurs.

I blink out of my musings.

He strokes the bridge of my nose, smoothing out the rumples. "What's with the grimace?"

I twist my lips.

He slides a knuckle beneath my chin to tip my head up. "Tell me."

"How I smell to you?"

He snorts. When he notices that his snort doesn't ease my qualms, he spins me. "You smell like my mate. Intoxicating. All-consuming." Cathal drags his nose over my forehead then through the part in my hair, his jaw hair tangling with my pink strands. "You smell like my home." His nostrils suddenly flare so wide they waft air. He mutters that word again: "Cockblocker."

Before I can enquire as to what it means, he plucks my hand and pulls me out of our little cocoon of privacy.

"Once I shift, get on my back."

I'm guessing the distance to Lorcan's chambers must be quite great if we must fly there. Crow-Cathal crouches and extends a wing, which he nods to, apparently urging me to use the appendage as a ladder. My climb is hesitant. Though he doesn't flinch, each time my bare feet squash feathers, I do. Stepping on his wing must hurt, no? Once settled astride him, I loop my arms around his neck and lean forward.

He jumps into the air, then soars down the hallway before surging through the same hatch we used to enter the castle. I imagined we'd remain indoors but open air must be more agreeable for the shifter's impressive wingspan.

I feel his shoulders roll against my thighs, see his wings tilt, and then he's snapping them, soaring so fast, that I lean forward even more. The male is evidently impatient to get the meeting over with. So am I…

I'm very much looking forward to picking up where we left off. And sit astride Cathal in flesh. Just the thought of it has my pulse quickening, pounding hard against my wide leather belt. Especially when my mind begins to turn over the images my grandmother had shared about the rubbing of naked bodies.

But then my imaginings come to a hasty halt, because the rubbing of two bodies results in babes, and Cathal doesn't want any more. Does that mean we can never explore each other, or are there methods to prevent reproduction? I nibble on my lip, deciding to ask Asha later.

Not for the first time, I wish I could've been reborn with a complete understanding of our world. Since my frustration won't help me figure out how my human body works, I press the emotion away and focus on the land that stumbles out on either side of the castle. Sure enough, the vistas rid me of any and all worries, for they are spectacular. On one side, a raging river carves down a gilded, amber forest; on the other sprawls a luxuriant jungle that melts into dunes of honeyed sand.

I suddenly envy Lore for having such varied landscapes. Shabbe may be lush, but it's all pink stone, green foliage, and aquamarine water. I'm glad Kanti wants the isle, for I much prefer to stay here. The thought of Behati's grandchild has me squinting around Luce. Where is it that she was sent again? Beyond the desert or on one of the land tiles near where Fallon was crowned queen? I wonder if she's met the enemy she was destined to seduce. And then I stop wondering because Cathal is diving through another hatch.

Like the last time he landed, he morphs into flesh before my feet can touch the ground and catches me around the waist. For a moment, he just holds me with both his arms and eyes, but then he sets me down and brushes a feather-light kiss to my lips that renders me breathless.

He steals my fingers and clasps them tight as we traipse down a short hallway toward an enormous wooden door that's already propped open. The instant we step over the threshold and into the vast stone chamber, everyone seated around the wooden table turns toward us, everyone being Lorcan's Siorkahd, our daughter, her grandfather, and my grandmother.

Cathal's fingers tighten as though he's suddenly worried someone may try to wrench us apart. In truth, Taytah, who sits between Justus and Fallon, does seem inclined to do so, what with her tapered stare and pursed lips. Everyone else either seems glad to see us or disinterested by our hand-holding.

"You look well, Zendaya." Lorcan gifts me a rare smile that doesn't quite reach his tired eyes.

I'm guessing the coronation was followed by a party and, perhaps, even some diplomatic talks considering all four monarchs were together. From what I've gleaned, it was the first time in several centuries.

"Has Nebba and Glace departed?" Cathal slides a chair out for me to sit in, his fingers still firm around mine.

Does the male truly worry he'll lose me if he lets go? If we'd been at ocean level, I suppose his fear could've been warranted, but so far above the clouds, the only way out of Lorcan's castle is up, and neither Taytah nor I have wings.

"Eponine has, but Vlad and his entourage are currently lodging in Isolacuori, waiting for us to return to smooth over the finer details of our alliance. They've reiterated their hope that we'll arrange a marriage between the next generation."

Cathal's gaze soars toward Fallon. "What next generation?"

"Relax, Dádhi. There is no next generation yet." She pats her belly, and I realize they're discussing babes, which makes me sit up straighter. "You'd totally be the first to know." She offers him a smile which he's too tense to reciprocate, while my palm drifts to my hollow abdomen.

What if Cathal's wrong in assuming we'd create a monster?

What if Cathal's right, and we do?

Perhaps Behati can foresee or my grandmother can ask the Mahananda?

"Vladimir enquired about a possible melihap between Shabbe and Glace." The Shabbin Queen rests her elbows on the table.

Fallon gapes at her, before gasping out a, "What?" while I lean toward Cathal to murmur, " Melihap ?" hoping he'll define it for me.

The male's so entirely focused on my grandmother that I don't think he's even heard me, but she must have, for she explains, "A melihap is a coming together of two nations after a period of hostility. A union of sorts."

Cathal growls something in Crow.

"I'm far too old to take a husband." Her pink gaze settles over me, which deepens my frown.

"No." Cathal's timbre is as glacial as his stare. His fingers finally stop strangling mine, but it's only because he's become more shadow than flesh.

"I wasn't contemplating sending Daya to Glace. Not when she's about to meet her mate. I was actually considering offering up Kanti. Since we Shabbins aren't monogamous, a marriage wouldn't prevent her from seducing your enemy, Lore. Unless Konstantin is the enemy, in which case?—"

"I'm sorry, but what did you say, imTaytah?" My daughter sounds alarmed.

"That monogamy isn't?—"

"The part before that," Fallon interrupts. "The part about my mother."

"Oh, didn't your father tell you? Behati foresaw Zendaya meeting her mate in Luce. It's one of the reasons I allowed her to make the trip, since I know how precious true mates are to shifters."

Fallon's complexion whitens while Cathal's purples.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Priya's voice skips around the deathly quiet chamber.

It's not wonderful and I'm not happy she's bringing it up. "I choose Cathal, Taytah."

She sighs. "Though you are Shabbin, abi djhara"—she pushes away from the table and stands—"I'm afraid you'll have to give up polygamy, since shifter mates do not share. Isn't that right, Lore?"

Lorcan doesn't answer. He doesn't even seem to register Priya's question, so focused is he on Cathal.

"Anyway, thanks for keeping my granddaughter safe, Cathal. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" I ask.

"Head to breakfast in Isolacuori with the Glacins before sailing home. Vladimir's simply dying to make your acquaintance, emMoti."

My tongue feels swollen with heartbeats. I do not want to meet the Glacins, the same way I do not want to go home. This time, it's my grip that tightens around Cathal's.

He shoves his chair back and stands, then helps me up. "We're done here."

Lorcan must speak to him through their mind link, because Cathal's shoulders jerk and he turns his glower onto his king. Aloud, he says, "Let Zendaya go. We will join them in a moment."

Cathal's nostrils flare.

"Just to Isolacuori for breakfast. Fallon and Imogen will accompany them. The rest of Priya's guards are already on site."

My daughter bounces out of her seat and rounds the table toward me, her complexion still wan. She speaks softly to her father, who finally relinquishes my hand to her.