47. Zendaya

Chapter 47

Zendaya

A thousand words throb on my tongue as Cathal and I stare at one another.

What were you doing behind my door?

Why are your eyes rimmed crimson?

Were you trying to get to me?

Were you crying for me?

His brow bone suddenly plummets, draping so low that his eyebrows clock his thick lashes. He takes a step back. "What did I tell you this morning, Daya?"

My lips pinch. Did he think I was about to leap into his arms? The thrill of bloodcasting withers like my delight to have found him lurking behind my door. "It hasn't slipped my mind. Don't worry."

"Speak the words back to me."

"Why?" I snap.

"I need to hear you say them."

"Why?"

"Just fucking say them!"

" Youmetsomeone ," I snap. "There. Relieved?"

"Yes." His jaw twitches as though he were about to utter more words, but he doesn't. Because footfalls ring in my hallway?

Fallon appears beside him, her complexion upsettingly colorless. Before I can ask her if everything's all right, three members of the Akwale—Malka, Aza, and Tamar—bustle in beside her. Their hands are soaked in blood. Is it Taytah's? Does my grandmother lay in a puddle?

"Where's the door?" Tamar's pink eyes scroll over the bare stone arch.

"Daya banished it," Cathal replies, his pitch oddly toneless.

Aza's head rears back, which sends her long, midnight locks frolicking. "Daya?"

Fallon frowns, looking from her father to me. "I don't understand. How?"

"Spells die with their maker," I explain, repeating Meriam's last words.

Is my mother still lingering, or has she fled? Now that I know the truth, I suddenly hope she's gone, because Priya's sorceresses wear expressions that smack of vengeance.

Malka gives her head an abrupt shake, which sends her short red strands tumbling around her bare, brown shoulders. "I don't know what lies Meriam fed you?—"

"Truths. She fed me truths."

"Are you expecting us to believe that you suddenly have blood magic?" Aza asks.

"I don't suddenly have blood magic. I've always had blood magic. It just suddenly returned. Like I said, spells perish with their maker."

"ImTaytah bound you?" Fallon gasps.

"Yes."

"She wouldn't have done that." Aza shakes her head. "If anyone bound your magic, it's your spiteful mother."

"A mother that, until tonight, Daya had never met." The tendons in Cathal's neck draw tight. "So when— do enlighten us —would Meriam have cast such a spell?"

Malka rubs her blood-smeared hand down the silk pants she wears over a matching sky-blue top. "She must've bound her magic before sending Zendaya into the belly of the serpent."

Could this be true? Could Meriam have pretended it was her mother's fault in order to ingratiate herself with me?

Fallon scrutinizes my pumping chest. "Did Meriam draw whorls of blood on the skin over your heart, Mádhi?"

"No."

Relief smooths Fallon's rumpled brow. "Then Meriam was speaking the truth. Priya bound my mother's Shabbin side." She nervously toys with the little loop speared through the shell of her ear. "I can't believe she did that."

"Can't you?" Cathal murmurs in Crow.

Fallon's finger suddenly tumbles off her ear. "Do you realize what this means, Mádhi?" Her eyes shine like the faceted sapphires strung around Tamar's neck. "You're immortal!"

I draw in a breath that agitates my heart so wildly it makes my lungs cramp. Am I?

" Yes, my little queen. " Meriam's disembodied voice brushes against my thrumming ears.

How is she speaking with me? Why didn't I think of asking her? I've so many questions for her.

" We will meet again, batee. Someday. Somewhere. Now don't keep the Mahananda waiting. Go get your crown. "

That quiets my thunderous pulse. Not only do I not feel ready to rule, but it's also something I don't especially desire. First things first… "Where's Enzo?"

Cathal fists his fingers, which pops his knuckles and strains the straps of his leather vambraces.

"Imogen is flying him to the Sky Kingdom," Fallon says. "He's alive, but passed out."

"Please have her fly him back here. And bring Agrippina home, too." I move past her, past Malka, past Cathal. Though I feel a shallow tug when I pass by the Mahananda, I don't march toward it. Not yet. Not until I've laid eyes on my deceitful grandmother. Or maybe I'm using her as an excuse to kill a little more time to weigh the cost of a crown against that of my freedom.

I suddenly wish Meriam had wanted the crown and taken the choice away from me. I lift my gaze to the stars obscured by wingbeats and pour my question into the ether. Either she doesn't hear me or she doesn't care to answer, for no words ring between my temples.

"I'm sorry I locked you up." Fallon's voice takes my attention off the Crow-filled sky.

I reach up and stroke her cheek, my scabbed index finger lingering on her delicate feather tattoo. "I'm glad you did. I got to meet Meriam."

She doesn't say anything.

"Why didn't you tell me our lives were bound, batee?"

Fallon blinks. "I…I wasn't certain whether they were anymore. Also, I didn't want to worry you for nothing."

"Please never keep anything from me."

"No more secrets."

"Good." I stroke her cheek once more.

I meet Cathal's dark stare for a heartbeat, two, and then I turn and resume my trek toward the queen's quarters.

Fallon falls into step beside me. "Are you sure you want to see her?"

"Yes." I cross the threshold, overhearing two members of the Akwale discussing how Kanti and Behati are on their way back. As I swirl past them, I ask, "When do they get here?"

"Why?" Aori asks.

"Do not question my question," I all but snarl.

I'm aware every sorceress from Priya's coven deems me a blemish on Shabbinkind, a defective byproduct of a disgraced witch, an unsuspecting serpent, and the pity of a grandmother. Spite makes me consider wheeling and diving headfirst into the Mahananda, but I will not let such an emotion guide my decision. Shabbe deserves better. The Mahananda deserves better.

"They should reach Shabbe by tomorrow evening since no Crow was available to give them a ride." Aori glowers at a space over my head, one I've no doubt is occupied by Cathal, since Shabbin men aren't as tall as shifters.

Unless it's Lorcan? A whiff and I know who stands behind me, even before I find Lorcan's crows reshaping themselves into a man on Fallon's other side.

"We're stretched thin in Luce, but I deployed as many of my Crows as I could spare to Shabbe. You want Justus and Meriam found, don't you, Aori?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a tiny smirk tugging at one corner of Fallon's lips. Are they purposely delaying Behati and Kanti's return to give me time to take the crown?

I brush past the line of guards and sorceresses to reach Priya's giant bed. I expect the sheets to have turned as red as the sails of Shabbin vessels, but they're white.

Like the hair fanned around her face.

Like her skin.

Like her unseeing eyes.

The spectacle is ghastly and turns my stomach. One of my palms finds its way to my abdomen while the other rolls into a fist at my side.

Why did you bind me? I want to yell at the corpse. Why, Taytah? Why? I take a step nearer. I loved and admired you with all my heart . I respected you. I thought you did, too, but I was wrong. If you'd loved and admired me, you wouldn't have impeded me; you would've elevated me. Taught me to use my magic instead of locking it away and pretending I never had any.

I sweep my palm over her face to shut her eyes and then I turn and stride out of her chambers. "How long till my denmates arrive?"

"Fifteen minutes," Lorcan replies.

"Good, because I want them at my side when I enter the Mahananda."

Stunned breaths and shocked murmurs slide into my ears as I traverse the courtyard.

"Only someone with blood magic can sit on the Shabbin throne," Aori proclaims as I pass underneath the starlit honeysuckle.

"She has blood magic," Malka mutters.

"Priya wished for Kanti to succeed her!"

I stop on the edge of the Mahananda and turn to hunt the crowd for the architect of this decree—bronze-skinned and honeyed hair Rosh. "I'm aware Queen Priya never meant for me to succeed her. If she had wanted me on the throne, she wouldn't have bound my magic, now would she?"

All present members of the Akwale exchange glances, and then they all start moving. Not toward me, but around me.

"They're forming their circle," Fallon whispers.

Smoke rises from Cathal's skin. "I'll happily disperse it."

"Do not go near them," I murmur. "I do not fear their wrath or their magic." What I do fear is a concealed obsidian weapon, but I keep that to myself. "If the Mahananda wants me, then the Mahananda will protect me. I'm not your responsibility, Cathal." I glance up at him, find his jaw ticking beneath his black beard.

Beard …I'm so surprised my mind found a word for what grows on his face that I almost miss his fiery reply.

"You're the mother of my child. You'll get my protection until I decide to become a forever-Crow."

My heart catches at his mention of eternal death. He has a mate. Why in the world would he speak of death?

His mate must be mortal. I could make her immortal, I realize. If she's willing to become a Serpent. I consider suggesting it, but what if Meriam's misled me? What if I vanish into the Mahananda forever?

A body suddenly plummets from the sky and onto the Mahananda. It's so blindingly white I know it's Taytah's. She lies there for a moment and then she shimmers out of existence, causing not a single ripple.

Lorcan takes shape beside Fallon. "I wanted to avoid someone doing away with her corpse, since there exists a sigil to resuscitate dead bodies." At my shocked stare, he explains, "A sorceress would have to sacrifice her life for the corpse's, but considering Priya's fan club"—Lorcan slots his fingers through Fallon's—"I worried one of them just might attempt it." He carries her hand to his mouth and brushes a kiss against her knuckles.

Though my heart reels from his admission, it also melts at his consideration. "Thank you, Lorcan Ríhbiadh."

"You're very welcome, Zendaya of Shabbe, Mother of Serpents and of my extraordinary mate."

All of me fills with such an influx of emotion that my eyes prickle.

"Thank Mórrígan she took after you and not the surly, winged one," he adds.

A laugh erupts from my throat. It's so at odds with the rest of the night that I almost feel guilty at having produced such a sound.

But it wanes when I hear someone decree, "We do not accept you as our queen, Naaga."

"Good thing she doesn't need your approval." Cathal's voice rolls over the courtyard, loud and deep and wholly steadfast.

Malka lifts her chin and slices the air with her stare. "She does, for we are the Mahananda's?—"

When she emits a choked rattle, I think Cathal has disobeyed my command not to disperse the sorceresses, but he stands there, wreathed in smoke. Wreathing me in smoke. I stare back at Malka, noting only then the bent beam of iridescent light that surges from behind me and arcs onto her. Clutching her throat, she falls to her knees, then crumples face-first into the stone soaked with one of her sigils.

Shrill cries reverberate against the scooped, sunstone land.

"Karma," Fallon murmurs. "Anyone else believe my mother isn't the rightful monarch? By all means, speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Best to encourage them to speak than to hold their peace, Little Bird," Lorcan murmurs. "Always good to weed out one's enemies at the start of one's reign since we accumulate so many new ones later."

"Hopefully my mother's collection of enemies won't be as bountiful as yours, mo khrá," she replies.

"Depends if she takes back your father. He's a little rough around the feathers." Lorcan's odd comment stiffens Cathal's posture and makes Fallon's face swerve toward her mate's.

I can tell words are exchanged. Many. I imagine she's informing him that Cathal has a new mate, though I'm surprised, seeing as Lorcan and Cathal are so close, that news hasn't reached him yet. Then again, Cathal's a private person.

Two Crows suddenly swoop low—one carrying a green-haired male, the other a blue-haired female.

It's time. As Enzo and Agrippina disembark from their winged steeds, I murmur my intent into their minds. I inform them of the risk that the Mahananda might not want me. Might not send me back. Agrippina rolls her eyes while Enzo just stares without blinking.

Do you both approve of my decision to ask the Mahananda for the Shabbin crown?

Agrippina tucks her hair behind her ear. You don't need our approval, Daya.

I do, for I cannot rule over this land without the both of you at my side.

Naturally. Agrippina's smile grows. I call General. She must remember that Enzo cannot hear her in skin, for she repeats her claim out loud, which makes the Crow King snort and Fallon beam as though she was her daughter instead of her…instead of her other mother.

Enzo?

You've always been my queen, Day. You forever will be.

My throat rolls over a swallow that feels bladed as I turn and take one step onto the Mahananda's glassy surface. If I don't return, please know that I couldn't have picked better denmates.

If you don't return, odds are we'll be gulped down by the Mahananda right along with you, so you can tell us then, Agrippina says.

That stops me because I didn't think that my disappearance would lead to theirs.

Her expression grows serious. "You will return."

I try to pull my foot back, but it adheres to the Mahananda's surface.

"Of course, she'll return," Fallon says, but doubt must creep over her heart because she glances at Lorcan.

"She will." Does he say this to placate her and reassure me, or because he truly knows what happens next?

I try to read my fate in his golden stare, but it's as hard as the Mahananda's surface. Since it's too late to turn back, I set my other foot onto the source of all magic. For a heartbeat, nothing happens and I think that perhaps the Mahananda doesn't want me as its keeper, but then…

But then, I sink.