60. Zendaya

Chapter 60

Zendaya

A s soon as Cathal lands, we find an obsidian blade. It penetrates Lorcan's skin without even leaving a blemish. Cathal tries it on himself next, choosing to slice across his pinkie this time. He heals instantly. The relief that paints Lorcan's features is only shadowed by the altered hue of his mate's eyes.

"Is pink not your new favorite color, mo khrá?" she teases him.

Like Cathal and me, Lorcan hunts her face for any sign that her cheer is false.

She purses her lips. "All right…can we stop with the pity party you're all throwing me? I've no regrets. None ." She says the word none in every language, save for Crow, which she no longer understands, but which she's decided to relearn immediately. "I'm extremely serious. If you don't all stop, I will go find Phoebus and a bottle of date wine and—and make new friends."

She starts a countdown. Afraid she truly will up and vanish, I smile and ask her for help canvassing the palace for concealed sigils. We find six—one in the queen's chambers, one in mine, one in the Kasha, one in my Serpents' common room, one in Behati's ruined quarters, and one in Fallon and Lore's wing. I assume there are more.

"How does Kanti still have blood to cast with?" Fallon asks.

As we bleed the walls to cleanse them, I imagine it's Kanti's chest that's bleeding. A terrible but not unwarranted thought.

"Why did you allow her back into Shabbe again, Amma?"

I startle that Fallon uses the Shabbin term for Mother instead of the Crow one before remembering that she must no longer know the Crow one. In truth, I don't much mind. As long as she considers me her mother, she can call me by any name.

"So?" she prompts me as we do one more sweep of my Serpents' quarters.

"Because if I didn't, then Behati wouldn't come back, and I need her here. I need to be able to access her visions. Eventually, I also need to convince her to bestow her power upon someone else."

"Surely you can boot Kanti out for sticking listening sigils around the palace without losing Behati, no?"

I twist my lips. "What if she decides to leave with Kanti?"

"If her allegiance is truly with Shabbe, she'll understand your decision. She might even second it."

I nod. "I'll pay her a visit tomorrow, then."

Just as we head for the door, Ceres enters, along with Agrippina.

At the sight of Fallon's eyes, both do a double-take and gasp in Lucin: "Your eyes!"

"What about them?" Fallon answers in Shabbin—surely for my sake. When their jaws slacken, she bursts out laughing. "You should see your faces."

"You should see your eyes," Agrippina deadpans.

"How about we go brew some tea and I'll tell you why my irises changed color?"

"I sense I'm going to need something stronger than tea," Ceres grumbles.

"Any excuse to tipple, ah, Mamma?" Agrippina winks, hooking her arm through Fallon's and leading her toward the communal kitchen.

Ceres begins to follow with a shake of her head, but stops when she sees I'm not heading in the same direction. "Zendaya, I wanted to ask you something."

I nod, indicating for her to continue.

"Would you grant me asylum indefinitely?"

"I'm offended you're asking me for permission, Ceres."

"I would never presume that your grandmother's invitation remained in vigor."

"My home is your home, Shrima Rossi."

Before she joins her daughter and granddaughter, she offers me her condolences for Priya's passing. I thank her, genuinely touched. Though my grandmother wronged me, she also loved me, something too few understand.

When I reach my bedchamber door, I find Lorcan and Cathal deep in conversation with Aodhan, who's just come from the house Behati and Kanti moved into upon their return—a home that borders the Amkhuti and which belongs to Behati's cousin. I heard through my grapevine of loyal guards, and through Aodhan—who's taking his task of seducing Kanti to heart—that my cousin spends her days spreading cruel rumors about me and my shifters.

Though it grates on both Asha's and Enzo's nerves, I don't mind my cousin's badmouthing for, like Cathal pointed out, it's helping us weed out potential dissenters. Every day, Agrippina adds names to the list she's meticulously keeping.

"Everything all right?" I ask.

"Where's Fallon?" Lorcan asks.

"With Ceres and Agrippina in their wing." I nod in the direction I came.

He begins to dissolve but solidifies once more to say, "Thank you, Zendaya."

Though I did nothing to warrant his gratitude, I accept it and wish him a good night.

"Aodhan said that Behati's eyes turned white," Cathal explains. "I think we should go pay her a visit."

"Not tonight." I reach for my bedchamber door.

"I'll go alone, then," Cathal says.

"Not. Tonight. Please. We'll go see her first thing tomorrow."

"I think that's a mistake. Visions are?—"

"Is that the only thing you believe is a mistake?"

He narrows his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been avoiding me," I say.

Aodhan begins to whistle.

"Fuck off, Aodhan," Cathal grumbles.

"You know what? You, too, Cathal. Until you figure out what you want, you can leave." I fling my door wide and stride inside.

He trails me in, shutting the door with such force that the wood rattles in its frame. "I was waiting for you to heal completely."

"Liar." I whirl on him.

He glances at Cruaih, who's poked her head out of my bathing chamber and stares between the two of us as though undecided whether to step out of her haven. She must decide she's safer inside because she retreats.

"It's not a lie," he says.

I stride back toward him and poke his armor with my finger. "But it's not the full truth."

The corners of his eyes twitch.

"You said it wouldn't change anything, but you aren't convinced, are you?"

When his lids close, I realize I've hit the mark.

"I thought you'd love me no matter what?"

His nostrils flare and he grits out, " I will."

My head rears back. "But you think I won't?"

His silence rings louder than words.

"You've such little faith in my heart, Cathal."

"Everything's a first for you, Daya. Everything's a last for me."

My throat burns. My lids, too. "I don't even understand what that means!"

"Not only are you a queen, but you're also so fucking… beautiful . Contenders for your heart will throw themselves at your feet. Especially once you begin to expand your den."

"Why would I look at any of them if I have you?"

"Because I'm old and unpleasant."

"You are unpleasant."

He grimaces.

"You're a cantankerous curmudgeon." I seize either side of his face. "But you're my cantankerous curmudgeon."

His gaze skips over mine as though to check I'm speaking the truth.

"When I look at you, I see the man I want by my side always. I see the man I choose as my king."

His throat dips.

"Choose me back, Cathal."

His pupils dilate.

"Choose us ."

His lids snap closed. When they reel open, gone is his shifty gaze. Gone is the anxious male. He palms my ass and lifts me. And then he kisses me. And oh, Mahananda, how I've missed his lips. My legs snap around his waist as he carries me down the wide hallway, moving with such determination, the wicks on every candle bow in his wake.

He sets me down on my mattress, then gets rid of his armor, boots, pants, shirt. Cathal Báeinach may feel ancient, but his body is that of a man in his prime—chiseled and padded to delectable perfection.

The sight of him unclothed floods my core. I begin to reach for my underwear when he drops onto his knees in front of me, cinches my thighs, and drags me to the edge of the bed. And then he's hooking my legs over his broad shoulders and pressing his face against the scrap of silk. After licking and kissing around the soaking fabric, he tugs it aside and flattens his tongue against me. I rattle with such violence that it must shake my sunstone land.

Cathal suddenly spears one finger into me, all the while twirling his tongue over the little magical bead. My climax gushes out of me, literally gushes , splashing Cathal's nose and mouth. I jerk onto my forearms and stare in shock and horror as he sits back on his heels. I expect a grimace to reshape his face, but I'm met with a smirk.

"What was that?" I ask.

"That, mo Sífair, was a sign that your body really enjoyed what I was doing to it." He wipes his face on his forearm. "Fuck, that was hot."

"It scalded you?"

He chuckles. "No. Not that sort of hot." He gets back to his feet, then bends over me and hovers his mouth over mine. "Can I kiss you or would you prefer I go wash off?"

"I don't know."

He touches his lips tentatively to mine. When I don't pick up on any unpleasant smell, I slant my mouth to deepen the kiss. He reaches between my legs for my underwear and snaps it off with a hard tug, and then he's pulling back, lifting my legs, and positioning his cock at my entrance.

"Ready?" he murmurs, solemn again.

"Yes, Cathal."

His chest lifts with a deep breath as he uses one hand to guide himself inside of me. He goes slow, hunting my face for any sign of pain.

There's none.

When he stretches me, it's all pleasure and I start to rattle. He gapes at my vibrating body, the tension receding from his face because he knows what it means.

He sighs as he pulls back and thrusts into me anew. But then his sigh turns into labored pants, and he curses a blue streak. "Fucking underworld, woman, if you don't get that rattling under control, I will blow."

It's cute that he thinks I have any control over my body's physiological reaction to his. My stomach tightens like a fist and pools heat into my core. I think I'm about to release another burst of wetness and worry it will carry him out. I try to warn him but end up gasping from the intensity.

His fingers clench like his jaw as he rocks his hips back, then slams into my drenched core with a feral growl. With a groan, his head falls back and he paints my quivering center with ribbons of heat.

My throat bobs and my heart catches as I watch him. How could he doubt for a second that I'd look anywhere but at him?

Even my core is pulsating with love, hugging his softening shaft, which snaps his neck straight and makes his eyes bore into mine.

I don't dare hope that this is anything more than a spasm. Until it happens again. Not so much a twitch as a tightening. A gripping.

"Cathal?" I whisper.

Daya, he whispers back. Except…

Except his lips don't part, only bend, while mine…they tremble. He hinges forward as my core swells around him and clinches so tight I worry it must hurt.

Nothing has ever felt so extraordinary. He scrapes his lips over mine, tracing their quivering contour before filling them in with a kiss that trickles down to my very soul.

As he sweeps away the salt of my tears, I murmur through our mind link, I love you, my Crow.

Never as much as I'll love you, my Serpent.