51. Cathal

Chapter 51

Cathal

" W ho knew your grandmother was such a hoarder?" I ask.

Amongst the piles of documents Zendaya unearthed, there were many interesting edicts and land divisions as well as correspondence with kings of old and random foreigners, most of them with titles preceding their names. I even found a letter that Lorcan penned to Queen Mara—or Mórrígan as we call her—six and half centuries earlier asking her if she could send a few more Shabbins to help combat the Fae and their endless supply of obsidian weapons.

Zendaya smiles from where she's reclined on the cushion beside mine, Cruaih curled atop her chest, snoozing away. My little stray, who likes no one save for myself and Fallon, is completely enamored by the Serpent Queen. My cat isn't alone. Even when I believed Daya harbored feelings toward her fellow Serpent, my bruised heart never quit thudding for her.

"How does a big, growly Crow find himself in possession of such a tiny, sweet creature?" she asks, languidly curving a finger up and down the purring furball's spine.

"I was visiting Rax when I found her. She was pawing at a burlap sack which contained…" I roll my neck at the sordid memory, my nails hardening into talons as I picture what I will do to the callous murderer if our paths ever cross. "Which contained the rest of her family."

Daya's chest lifts with a gasp that disrupts Cruaih's nap, but only for a moment. After ascertaining that all's well and that I haven't abandoned her, she slips right back into slumber. "Some people don't deserve to live."

"I agree." For a long moment, I stare at her elegant fingers tracking across Cruaih's fur. Her nails are long and painted the same shade as the velour she lounges on. My mind suddenly places them on my body, on a part of me that is at present growing so heavy and long that I have to readjust the way I sit.

"I'm sorry the seating is so uncomfortable. I'll order chairs before the day is out and loftier feet for the table. Hopefully both can be manufactured quickly."

When the seam of my leathers keeps guillotining my cock, I decide to stand, with my back to Daya, and stretch my legs.

"Even if you don't stay." The words bluster out of Zendaya's mouth, as soft as the patter of my cat's feet. "Since I can read now that my Shabbin side has been unbound and everything…"

It's so unlike her to mumble that I stop fidgeting with my trousers and turn, erection be damned. "What part of, I'm staying , didn't you understand, Príona?"

Her eyes don't stray off my face.

"Sorry… Sumaca ."

Her hand promenades up my cat's back twice before she finally says, "Well, you didn't exactly mention until when ."

"Until you form your new coven or government, or whatever you intend to call it, I'll be at your side."

"That might take a while."

It certainly will, since I'll be dragging out the process. I smile. It must be an alarming smile because the pulse at the base of her neck flutters her scar. Unless alarm isn't the sentiment I'm coaxing from her…?

When her throat moves over a swallow and she licks her lips, I consider adopting my bird form to cool off, but not only would shifting inside the throne room spook Cruaih, it would also confound Daya, so I stay there, bulge in perfect relief. In truth, what point is there in trying to conceal the effect she has on me? It isn't as though she's unaware of my feelings toward her.

"Are your living quarters to your liking?" she asks, pulse still thundering beneath her honeyed skin. What I wouldn't give to stroke it.

"Yes, though I doubt I'll be spending much time in them."

She blinks. "You're thinking of living elsewhere?"

I tread right up to the back cushion upon which she's pillowed her head, pinch the seam of my trousers to transfer it to the side, and crouch. "I didn't only come back to advise you. I also returned to protect you."

Her chest is lifting and falling with brisker breaths. Is it wrong of me to appreciate how I affect her? "I have blood-magic, Cathal." Her hoarse voice tightens my balls some more. "So do Agrippina and Enzo."

"Fallon mentioned it." The first male with blood-magic . Though, admittedly, I was glad to hear it, it'd be a lie to say that it didn't irk my already tender ego. The male was already so special to Zendaya. Did he really need an added advantage over me? "But the people who want the crown torn off your head also have blood-magic." I flatten my palm over Cruaih's fur. When the side of my pinkie grazes the side of Zendaya's thumb, her breathing grows even more ragged.

"I'm immortal," she murmurs.

"So are the people who want the crown torn off your head," I repeat.

"Are you saying that you plan on moving into my bedchamber?"

"Only until you form your Akwale." I stroke back up Cruaih's back, then back down toward Daya's motionless fingers.

"That could be months. You said so yourself."

Some might consider our conversation moving in circles; I see it coming full-circle. I don't carry my hand off Cruaih's rump this time, relishing the feel of my pinkie brushing against the Serpent Queen's thumb.

"I hope my presence won't cause you too much discomfort." I realize I'm a bastard for not presenting my guarding offer as a choice, or suggesting other Crow contenders for the job—like Aoife, who's returned with me.

"I only have one bed," she says.

Of course, the instant she says this, I picture her sprawled atop it, long pink hair fanned over one of her pillows, coral nipples peaked, folds shiny with… Fuck . Just because she hasn't stolen her hand away from mine, just because her lids are at half-mast and her nostrils pulsate, it doesn't mean she wants my desperate ass.

I swallow, trying to moisten my hunger-abraded throat, and cast my gaze on my cat instead of on my…on the woman Cruaih is using as a mattress. "I'd be there to guard you, not to sleep."

"Do I have a choice in the matter of these living arrangements?"

My gaze veers toward hers. "Naturally." I try to smile but all my lips manage is a manic twitch. "But I do believe you should have a presence in your room at all times." Not Enzo , I add internally. "Preferably someone with iron appendages. Or, I suppose, an iron blade."

"Iron doesn't harm the Shabbins."

My jaw hardens. "True, but Serpents can't exactly shapeshift into lethal smoke. We might not be able to asphyxiate sorceresses with it, but it would hamper them."

"Why not thrust the responsibility of vigil onto someone who doesn't intend to spend their days counseling me? I hear Aoife, Reid, and Aodhan have returned with you and will be staying."

"I don't trust Reid to do a proper job. He's too besotted by Agrippina. I could ask Aoife, though."

She cocks one eyebrow. "What about asking Aodhan?"

The vein at my temple feels a second away from rupturing. "The only reason he's here is because Imogen threatened to drive an obsidian blade through his heart, so Lorcan asked me to bring him along."

"So, no Aodhan?"

"That's right. No fucking Aodhan."

Is that a smile drawing up the corners of her mouth? "Then I'd prefer Aoife stay with me."

"Why—" I clear my throat so the rest of my question doesn't come out strangled. "Are you frightened of me?"

"Frightened?" A grin breaks across her beautiful face, tossing me years back to one of the many conversations she doesn't remember but that's embedded inside my soul. It was the day I'd regained use of my vocal cords after five centuries of them being atrophied. I'd asked her if she'd gotten over her fear of me, or if she still required time alone? She'd crossed her arms and hissed into my mind that she'd never been scared of me.

Just of certain parts of me , I'd murmured through our bond.

My taunt had caused a lovely blush to steal across her cheekbones.

I'm not scared , she'd sworn, adding that she had no doubt that this ‘certain part of me' would be massively underwhelming anyhow. I'd challenged her to find out. She'd claimed that she wasn't interested. But she had been.

Could this new version of Zendaya be interested?

Her thumb begins to move, caressing the edge of my pinkie that quit moving when she alluded to someone else guarding her. "The reason I prefer Aoife is because, although you might not need much sleep, I do, and I'd be incapable of relaxing if you were in my bedroom, Cathal."

"Why? Why wouldn't you be capable of relaxing?"

"Because, Cathal of the Sky Kingdom…" Her hand scales mine, then swirls around my wrist, before journeying back toward my unmoving digits.

"Because what?" I rasp.

She delicately rakes those red-red nails of hers along my fingers, knuckles, and wrist. "Because you're not exactly a source of tranquility, General."

I don't dare speak, afraid my breath will blow her fingers off my skin.

"I'm aware that you didn't stay behind in Shabbe to?—"

When her lips stop moving and her hand grows slack, I blow out an atypically nervy, "To…?"

But her eyes have gone bone-white. My heart damn near detonates until I remember the same thing happening to Priya's eyes when the Cauldron conversed with her.

Still, I spin my hand and scoop Daya's fingers before they can tumble away from mine and curl them into my palm. The trance lasts a fucking eternity. Cruaih wakes and stretches. And then she licks my quivering thumb. She must sense my anguish because she winches her neck and peers up at me.

"Everything's okay, Misery," I promise her. "Go drink some milk."

She gives my thumb a quick cheek rub before traipsing toward the glazed ceramic dish heaped with crumbs which Asha set beside a bowl of milk. Though my kitten lapped at the milk, the dried food won her over, to Asha's immense pleasure. Recalling how she gloated helps quiet my ramping nerves.

"Come back to me, Príona," I murmur. In every way, come back to me, Zendaya of Shabbe.