33. Isla
33
ISLA
M y flight home turns out to be as exhausting as my trip to Glace had been.
I spend my first days back in the Sky Kingdom alternately nestled against my mother who still feels too ill to leave her bed, lounging in Shoshair’s garden and regaling her with tales of my voyage abroad, and soaking my sore muscles in the Baths with my friends.
One week slips into two, and although I love every second of being home, I itch to return to the man with the glacial facade and blazing heart.
Though most Crows had already heard about my engagement, I’m still met with shrill gasps and chanted felicitations in the hallways of the Sky Kingdom or in the Market Tavern, where I spend each morning, helping dish out meals. Though I absolutely hate deceiving my fellow Crows, it oddly no longer feels like a deception.
Konstantin and I might not be mates, but we are something .
Something beautiful.
When I blink awake the day of my twenty-fifth year, I feel like both springing out of bed and staying put. I want to laugh and weep. To lock myself in my childhood home and leave immediately for Konstantin’s home.
I get dressed slowly.
Spend extra time with Shoshair as she prunes dead branches.
Spend extra time with Mádhi and Phoeppa as they squabble—as per usual—over the appropriate amount of skin to showcase in his newest bathing suit collection.
And then I spend extra time surfing over Luce, absorbing each scraggy peak, each blade of ochre grass and fall-tinted leaf, each vibrantly-hued house, and each shimmer of serpent scales in the translucent stretch of ocean that separates Tarecuori from my current destination—Isolacuori.
I land on the little isle that used to house the Regio castle, right beside Elio’s lounger. Where usually the finely manicured lawn is crawling with swimmers wearing Phoeppa’s latest and greatest, today, it is entirely deserted. I suppose the air is a tad nippier now that September has surged over Luce, even though in comparison to Glace, it still feels like the height of summer.
“Is there a personnel strike?” I ask as I stroll up to him.
Elio rolls off his lounger, pushing up two pieces of smoky glass trapped in gold wire off his cerulean eyes. “No. Mamma wanted a day off, so she took a day off and forced everyone else to take a day off, too.”
The sun catches on the wire of what I can only describe as eye shields and which are now sunk into his short black curls like a headband.
“ Spectacles ,” he explains in response to my unremitting perusal. “Zia Gia brought them over the other day. They were invented to hold corrective lenses for humans with poor eyesight, but they became all the rage with the high society when Eponine’s youngest sister wore a tinted pair to a luncheon.”
“The Nebbans and their clever inventions.”
“All the coin that used to go into the military is now being given to inventors, so expect many innovations.”
“We need to poach some of these inventors.”
“ We , as in the Ríhbiadhs, or we , as in the Korols?”
My ribs clench as I link arms with Elio. “We, as in the Ríhbiadhs.”
I fill my eyes with the chroma of birds, my ears with the drone of bees, and my skin with the warmth of sunrays. In that moment, Glace and my predicament feel as far from me as the wondrous afternoons Naeva, Lachlano, Elio, and I spent roaming Isolacuori, by land and by canal.
The bold stroke of color on a low shrub carries me back to the treasure hunts Phoeppa would organize for our birthdays and on each High Holiday—be they Faerie ones or Crow ones. He’d scatter sweets throughout Isolacuori, hook fabric satchels across our little chests, then let us loose.
How we’d laugh, how we’d run and swim and—once we came into our Crow powers— fly .
Our hair was forever marbled with salt, and our skin perpetually toasted. Unlike now. Although I’ve been home for almost a fortnight, my complexion is as insipid as Elio’s white linen shirt.
I rest my cheek on his bicep, mumbling, “Skies, I’m pasty.”
“Not much sunbathing happening in Glace?”
I snort. “It snows almost every day. Do you think Eponine’s inventors could create a sunlight machine?”
He chuckles. “I’ll ask.”
“And glass that darkens when it’s supposed to be night?”
“Haven’t gotten used to the never-setting sun?”
“I don’t think anyone—save for people born and raised in Glace—can get used to that.”
“I’m sure you’ll get used to it after a few decades.”
My ring suddenly feels hot and weighted. “El, I have something to tell you.” Halfway across one of the gold bridges arcing over the canals, I pull him to a stop and twist to face him. “You must swear not to repeat it to a single soul.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“ What ?” My head rears back. “I haven’t even slept with the man yet.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really .”
“But he’s your mate.”
I snag my bottom lip. “So, that’s the thing…”
“The thing ?”
“The thing I wanted to tell you about.” I roll up on my toes to spill the truth into his ear.
Elio is so quiet once I finish that my heart begins to thrash with anguish.
“Say something,” I plead.
“Do Naev and Lach know?”
My nod dulls his irises. For endless minutes, he rolls his lips. And rolls them.
“I’m so sorry.”
Another roll of lips.
I wrap my arms around his middle and lay my cheek on his chest. “It’s my birthday, so you have to forgive me.”
He harrumphs.
“I swear, you’ll be the very first to know my next secret.”
He harrumphs again.
“Actually, I have a secret that neither Naev nor Lach know.” Am I truly about to admit this out loud? With a sigh, I decide that, yes, I am. “I really like my fiancé.”
Where Lachlano and I can’t hold grudges for our lives—mostly because neither of us can stand all the stewing and brooding—Naeva and Elio are professional grudge-holders.
I squeeze him a little harder. When that fails to make him capitulate, I resort to a tried and true method of breaking his temper: tickling his ribs.
He stiffens, then begins to wriggle, huffing a few irritated, “ how old are yous? ” which are soon followed by knells of nasal laughter. “I swear…” He trusses me up in his arms, cutting off my fingers’ access to his rib cage. “You’re not turning twenty-five today; you’re turning five.”
“Yes, yes, I’m immature, but you adore my immature ass.”
“ Adore is a little strong for how I feel at present.” He’s shaking his head, and although he doesn’t smile, he also doesn’t scowl. “Can’t believe your parents are encouraging this.”
I purse my lips. “ Encouraging is a stretch. They’re allowing it because the Cauldron saw me wearing Konstantin’s ring.”
“The Cauldron?”
I crook my finger, and he leans over.
After I’m done recounting the prophecy, he kneads the back of his head. “Why you?”
“ That is an excellent question. One we’ve yet to understand. But you know how prophecies go…you don’t always comprehend the reason until it all goes down, and then it feels so evident that you wonder how the underworld you missed it.”
He scrubs the back of his skull some more, as though he’s manually sorting through all my revelations. “I’ll go back with you.”
I blink. “El, it could be dange?—”
His expression hardens and he crosses his arms. If there’s one thing Elio detests more than feeling left out, it’s being reminded of his magical limitations since he’s neither a shifter nor a full-blooded Faerie.
“I would love that, but are you sure?” I ask.
“Am I sure that I want to be at your side in a land filled with small-minded Faeries in need of enlightenment? Never been surer.”
I swallow from the onslaught of emotion.
He grips my hand, his eyes stroking over the blue diamond I haven’t removed once, not even in the Baths. “Come on. The food’s getting cold.”
“What food?”
“The one I set aside for us.” He says this without missing a beat. He also says this without meeting my eyes. “You know how I like to eat every hour on the hour.”
He does, but I’m sensing there might be a little more than he’s letting on. Like perhaps, Naeva and Lachlano are somewhere on Isolacuori, gathered around a birthday picnic in my honor.
“Nothing can get cold in Luce,” I finally say. “In Glace, though…”
His lips quirk. “Good thing gelato is my favorite food group.”
“Ice-cream is not a food group.”
“Says who?”
We bicker about this as we stride toward the giant glass structure, home to Luce’s finest restaurant, also known as House of Elio . When it comes into view, I freeze, blink, gape.
Elio grins. “Surprise!”
I kiss his cheek, then sprint toward the greenhouse that’s filled with my entire family—even my mother made the trip, queasy as she is—and all my closest friends. Only one face is missing. Well, two.
“He wanted to come; Ilya as well.” Izolda hugs me tight. “But you know how long the voyage is by sea…”
I almost ask why he didn’t fly over on a Crow but then remember the necklace that blocks shifter magic.
The one I made him promise not to remove. “He shouldn’t be away from Glace at the moment, anyway.”
She rumples her freckled nose. “Don’t remind me.”
I don’t ask her for news, since I get a daily briefing from my father—no signs of Mestyla. It’s almost as though the girl ceased to exist. However, according to Taytah and Behati, the prophecy is unchanged, so the Korol’s niece is somewhere , alive and well.
“By the way, I left your gift at home. On your bed.” When my gaze strays to Monteluce, she adds, “Not that home.”
Will Izolda be as forgiving as Elio once she learns about the mating ruse?
Bisnonno approaches and kisses me on both cheeks. “Happy birthday, my little island. How goes life in the Ice Kingdom? I hear you’ve been making friends.”
“From who? Salom?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. We correspond often.”
“If you do, then you’ll know that the only thing I’ve been making are foes. Most Glacins are convinced my father orchestrates monthly blood sacrifices during which we kill a virginal, pure-blooded male.”
“How preposterous.” Yet my great-grandfather grins.
I raise an eyebrow. “You find this funny?”
“Let me guess…” Jaytair sighs, eavesdropping on our little chat. “A fabrication of Aodhan’s?”
“Now, now, Cathal,” Aodhan begins. “If you were stuck in a land with a bunch of pointy-eared snobs— alone , I might add”—he slings a piercing look my father’s way—“I dare you not to have sought out a little fun.”
“Aren’t you glad I did send you up north, though?” Dádhi asks.
Aodhan turns to look at his mate, who’s wandered toward Agrippina and Ceres. “I would’ve been glad for a friend,” he murmurs.
“You didn’t have any,” Jaytair deadpans, which makes Bisnonno hoot and my father crack a smile, a rare thing these days.
I worried his mood was brought on by the sight of Konstantin’s ring, but my mother promised it had everything to do with Lucin politics and nothing to do with my situation.
“Aside from giving us a predatory reputation,” I say, “Aodhan’s been amazing.”
Aodhan smiles. “Hear that, Mórrgaht. Amazing .”
My father shakes his head, smile still in place.
“How I love to hear about my greatness,” Aodhan muses.
That earns him many eyerolls.
“Where’s my favorite great-grandchild?” Mimi cups my face and presses a kiss to my brow.
“Your only great-grandchild,” I reply with a grin. “I better milk that status before it changes.”
“You’ll always be my favorite great-grandchild. Just like your brother will soon become my favorite. I’ll simply have two favorites.” The intakes of air are so swift it sounds as though my family’s gaping mouths have managed to gulp down even my friends’ chatter. “What?”
“You weren’t supposed to divulge the babe’s gender, mi cuori,” Bisnonno chides her gently.
“A boy!” Mádhi exclaims, her pink eyes starting to glitter as she palms her abdomen.
My father heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Thank Mórrígan she had mercy on us this time around.”
“Lore!” My mother smacks his arm, but she’s smiling. And crying a little. But mostly smiling.
My father is all dark smiles. And winks. Well, one wink. For me.
“Would you care for a word of wisdom on your birthday?” Mimi asks, recapturing my attention. At my enthusiastic nod, she says, “Challenges don’t make one a challenger; they make one a fighter.”
I’m still absorbing her aphorism when I’m squashed in a hug by Lachlano and Naeva. Which of course, has Elio flinging his arms around the lot of us, loath to miss out on anything.
“Happy quarter-century!” they holler in unison.
“Do you think this is the year Isla masters adulthood?” Lachlano asks.
I laugh. “Says the most childish of the bunch.”
“Personally, I hope not,” Naeva murmurs. “Can you imagine her taking the time to think crazy schemes through?”
I pinch her waist. “Witch.”
She tucks her chin into the crook of my neck. “Never change, Isles. We love you just the way you are.”
I spend my last night in Luce having a sleepover with Shoshair, my stomach full of birthday cake and butterflies. I’m flying back to Glace in the morning with Elio, Lachlano, Izolda, and Aodhan. Naeva will come next month, once her Akwale duties slow.
As my grandmother rubs lotion into her skin, I draw the scent deep—citrus with a hint of thyme. The body butter is one of many she and Bisnonna Ceres have concocted together. Those two have become inseparable over the years, bonding first over naturopathy, then over their staunch resolve to never remarry.
“What would you have done if Dádhi’s father hadn’t been your mate?” I ask her.
She stops moisturizing her hands. “What a question…”
I roll onto my side, bend my arm, and prop my head up on my open palm. “Have you never considered the possibility?”
“I have.” A sigh whistles past her lips. “I believe that Tadgh would’ve been my mate, had he been alive when we became Crows, and that this is the reason the Cauldron has never mated me to anyone else.” After a quiet beat, she adds, “I suppose it could still happen, but I hope the opportunity never presents itself.”
“Because you don’t want to share your life with a new man?”
The shallow creases around her eyes and mouth deepen. “Because it would mean that your grandfather hadn’t been the one .”
I flop onto my back once more and fold my fingers over my tender stomach, regretting that third slice. Though I ingested a digestive tonic before getting into bed, the frosted confection rests like wet clay inside my belly.
“Have any mates ever rejected their bond?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of, ah’khar . Care to tell me why you’re so tortured by the subject of mates?”
I nibble on my lip, moving my gaze off the smooth stone ceiling and onto the solitaire that sparkles like a miniature version of Konstantin’s empire.
“Ah…” She screws the lid onto her glass pot before lifting the bedsheets and slipping beneath them. “Behati mentioned you’d meet your mate in Glace. Are you wondering what to do if it’s not the man your heart desires?”
I grimace. “You are frighteningly intuitive, Shoshair.”
“Merely observant. Every time you’ve mentioned Konstantin, your eyes acquire the same luster that brightens my son’s when he looks upon your mother.”
“Do they really?”
She gifts me a gentle smile. “Yes.”
“Do you think anyone else has noticed my lustrous gaze?”
Her deep-brown irises sparkle. “By anyone else , you wouldn’t happen to mean your parents?”
My features writhe.
“You’re a young woman, Isla.” My raised eyebrow leads her to add, “Your parents realize you’re going to develop feelings and collect partners.”
With a snort, I reminisce on the three I’ve had—a Crow, who was so afraid of my father that he’d barely dared to peck my lips (even in private); a clumsy but fun one-night stand with a Shabbin male ( not a Serpent), who was as virginal as I was; and a Nebban halfling, who never saw my true face or knew my true identity ( thank you, blood-magic ), not even during our eighth and final hookup, during which he admitted his wish that the Crow regime would fall.
“I doubt I’ll be collecting many, seeing as most males are either scared of me or my father.”
She sighs and reaches over, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ears. “Why do you think royals usually marry fellow royals?”
“Because it’s difficult to trust someone’s feelings toward you when you’re in a position of power?”
“Exactly.” After a beat, she says, “Do you know that the day of your parents’ Sky Kingdom nuptials, I asked Konstantin when he’d marry and he told me that if he could help it, never .”
“I heard.” After a beat of laden silence, I ask, “The reason I abandoned you, Shoshair?—”
“You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done had I been your age and had learned my parents and grandmother had deceived me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Perhaps, but I still felt rotten about it. “The reason I went there, aside from seeing Glace, is because Behati saw my mate dying.”
“What?” Shoshair gasps.
“ If I didn’t attend the Jubilee, that is. Sorry, I should’ve led with that.” I shoot her a rueful smile. “Do you think I’ve already saved him, or do you think I’m going to, at some point, now that I’m living in Glace?” My throat clenches around a sharp inhale. “Holy Cauldron, Shoshair! That must be the reason I kill Mestyla! Because she goes after my mate! He must be one of her enemies. Which means that if I can figure out who she hates, then chances are, I can figure out who my mate is.”
Silence drags in the furrow of my outburst.
“What does Mestyla want, Isla?” Shoshair prompts me.
I’ve no doubt she’s asking in order to steer my mind toward resolving the conundrum on its own. “We’re not certain but we imagine vengeance for her mother’s death.”
“Vengeance against whom?”
I sit up so fast my brain whirls. “Konstantin!”
If I hadn’t come to Glace, he might not have found out that his niece existed.
Could he be the Glacin I’ve inadvertently saved?
Is he…is he my mate?