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The Heartbreak Show (Bound By Ravens #3) 12. CHAPTER TWELVE 44%
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12. CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cian Merrick

“Ten fecking years,” I said on a laugh, the orchard ladies completely forgotten. “Damn lad, thought I’d never see your pretty mug again.”

A gorgeous water spirit male shifted on his feet beside Finn. Beneath lowered lashes, I quickly took in his ruffled mid-ear length blue hair, gold hoops up his pointed ears, and . . . the skirted wrap favored by the wild fae fastened around his waist, draping down to just above his knees. My gaze rested on the tattoos trailing down one arm.

He was once an archer.

The water spirits who trained with long bows tattooed their draw arm in runes and symbols for luck in aim, battle, and bravery . . . and left the other bare, according to the wild fae orphans I’d met over the years. They began training as children.

“Rhylen has a new tribe, yeah?” Finn asked.

“A tribe of misfits.” I combed my fingers through my tresses. “Mostly fellys and a handful of middle-ranks along with their former slaves, and from all four tribes.”

“My best mate here was fostered in North Tribe.”

“Oh aye?”

A muscle along the elf’s jaw pulsed, his brows low over dark blue eyes—the pupils slightly slitted from the male’s water dragon heritage. It wasn’t an angry look. Or a broody one. Not the intensity of a male attracted to another either. The lad was studying me and . . . strategizing.

Good. Perfect timing.

A man walking toward us lit a fresh cigarette. Eastern city gents were walking chimneys, much to my light-fingered delight. If I couldn’t drink at a train station, I’d indulge in other vices. And so, per my usual trick, I reached out and plucked the cigarette right out of the mortal’s hand and immediately placed the smoke between my lips and sucked long, slow. The man froze. They always froze.

I puckered my rouge-stained lips at the gent. “Thank you, darlin’.”

The water spirit sputtered a laugh when the mortal harumphed and strode on.

Finn gave his friend a light shove, then pointed to the makeshift stage. “The Heartbreak Show?”

“I’m a professional Love-Talker, lads,” I said with a mock-flirty wink at the blue-haired elf, who began eyeing me anew, as if to see if I were an actual gancanagh.

The feck if I knew. . .

But behind me, where Finn had pointed, was a simple stage frame the fellas had built that could be broken down to fit into a cart. Red and gold designs covered the entire structure, made from flour paint Glenna prepared with wildcrafted plants. And draped along the sides were old, quilted blankets for curtains.

“A coin beggar’s burlesque show,” I continued, “until the Kingdom of Carran approves Rhylen’s Fair and Market license.”

An older woman strolled by with a disapproving glare my way. I adjusted my corset, then blew her a kiss as smoke left my red-painted mouth.

The rascally slant of Finn’s lips deepened.

The blue-haired elf at his side quietly groaned. At first, I thought it was because of me until he muttered, “Shite, not them .”

Finn followed where his friend looked and quickly schooled his features. The familiar calculating mischief was written all over him, though. Stars how I had missed that troublemaker.

The water elf’s eyes narrowed. “Finn Brannon, I’ll knock that smug grin off your devilish face.”

“But you love their blessing ceremonies, Kalen Kelly.” Finn grinned now. “Brings you endless joy, it does.”

Kelly . . . that wasn’t a water spirit name or a Caravan one. Probably a surname assigned by the Thieves’ Guild on Seren.

“Those mortals?” I pointed to the women in the fruit-decorated hats, the ones now boarding the ferry to Seren, begging the gods it was indeed them.

“The Ladies of Lugh,” Kalen answered with a slight shudder. My pulse kicked into a gallop and I studied the women closer. “They visit Seren each winter to worship Lugh while blessing the waning sun.”

Kalen’s voice still carried the heavy lilt of the wild fae but with a touch of a Seren street accent—a Caledona dialect, similar to the Caravan fae, but drizzled with an eastern cities flavor. Based on the still present intensity of his wild fae brogue, he must have been older when sold to North Tribe. Must not have lived with them long either.

“To hunt sky fae to bless,” Finn continued. “Kalen here is twice blessed. Smelled like rancid pie for a week.”

“The bastard pushed me into their circle while I was following Guild Master’s orders to thieve their jewelry. Two years in a row.”

“Aye,” Finn said with a serious nod, “and still not lucky with the lasses, are you, mate?”

Kalen chuffed a quiet laugh. “You’re shite luck, that’s why.”

Chills prickled down my arms and torso. What were the chances Finn Brannon would show the exact moment I needed to thieve or riddle a Lughnasadh’s Day straw hat into my possession? From the Ladies of Lugh .

I locked eyes with my childhood friend and focused my magic.

A tiny smile ghosted Finn’s mouth.

Images flitted through my mind.

Finn naked in a river.

Finn naked in the forest.

Finn naked —

I barked a laugh. “Arse.”

“Most mortals thank me for the fine view.”

“How did you shield?” Goosebumps flushed down my bare arms. He knew I had the Sight.

Finn tugged me close and whispered, “You know how, mate.”

The blood rapidly drained from my head.

The only seer I knew , outside my Mam and Filena, was the Maiden.

How in the fecking dark skies above did he know my great aunt?

Did he know I was also related to her?

My gaze darted to the Ladies of Lugh, then to Glenna, who was breaking down the stage with Owen, to George who sat at Finn’s feet, gaping like an elf struck mortal, and then back to Finn. Grabbing Finn’s arm, I yanked him to the edge of the platform, closer to the forest and away from milling travelers.

“How do you know the Maiden?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “I work for her.”

I needed a fainting couch.

And smelling salts.

And for the handsome Gent of Fem to wipe my sudden clammy-fevered brow because . . . what ?!

I puffed on the cigarette.

My rapidly-racing mind was moving in and out of focus.

“Darlin’,” I finally managed, “tell me in ten words or less how you ended up working for the Maiden.” The spinning, tilting equilibrium in my head accelerated.

“A bargain.”

“That’s two words, damn.”

“That’s all you need to know right now, love.”

I smiled at the street slang Seren boys used when talking to girls. The momentary warmth in my chest at his gesture faded in the next breath. I dragged on the cigarette again. My fingers were starting to tremble, in shock, in excitement. I side-eyed Glenna, who glanced over and thinned her eyes on Finn, then Kalen.

Stepping in closer, I lowered my voice further. “Glenna will be over in a few seconds.”

“Wee Glennie Lo?” Finn asked.

I ignored him. “The Maiden told me to find a magical faerie cow.”

“A . . . cow ?” Finn asked, all traces of humor leaving him. “What kind of faerie cow?”

I waved my cigarette in the air. “A Cow of Plenty.”

He stiffened.

“Named Glas Gaibhnenn. Apparently, my birthright.”

Kalen’s mouth parted. “Cian Merrick,” he said under his breath. “Powerful Ancient Enduring One.” He translated my first and surname, turning to Finn. “Cian of the Tuatha Dé Danann, warrior god and father of Lugh.”

Finn’s eyes flashed back to mine. “ That cow.”

“My birthright, aye,” I emphasized again .

“Are you . . .” Kalen scrutinized me again .

I peered toward the stage and— shite . “Glenna and Owen are coming. Need to make this quick. The Maiden charged me with finding red boots cobbled by a leprechaun”—Kalen’s brows shot up—“A ribbon from a Wishing Tree”—I lifted my wrist—“A Lughnasadh’s Day straw hat.”

Finn’s head fell back on his shoulders as he muttered, “Feck. Me.”

Kalen burst into laughter.

“How did that cow survive?” Finn asked Kalen, who was practically doubling over in wicked humor.

“You’ve seen my cow?”

“Seen it?” Kalen sputtered between laughter. “Should have burned down with Stellar Winds Casino.”

“It’s unnatural.” Finn’s face paled a little. “Told you, mate.” He pointed to the garter ribbon on my wrist. “Still weeping . . .”

Kalen’s laughter grew louder.

My stomach leapt to my throat. “The Cow of Plenty was at Ren Cormac’s casino?”

“Aye,” Finn said with a slight shudder. “The cash cow—"

Finn straightened, elbowing his friend, and flashed a crooked grin at Glenna.

Who barely acknowledged him.

“The cash cow?” her brow arched, still annoyed with me.

Picking up on this, Finn added with a twist of his lips, “Aye, love. The cash cow of his heart.”

I puffed on my cigarette, to hide my snort.

“You need an ugly hat for a cow of . . . your heart ?” She threw her hands into the air. “Cian Merrick, what is that eejit brain of yours scheming?”

“How dare you slight the cow of my heart in front of George, Gent of Fem.”

Finn winked at my raccoon, who pet his leg and cooed. My face scrunched, eyes widened at George. A what-the-hell-was-wrong-with-you look. My familiar was banjaxed.

“Not wee,” Kalen whispered to Finn and dragged his gaze down Glenna’s curvy form in my clothing and Rhylen’s top hat.

My Glenna.

I flicked the cigarette’s ashes and, in such a way, they flung toward Kalen. He reared back, swearing under his breath. The lad shot me a scowl. But sobered when catching the bladed edge of my warning smile. Kalen dipped his head.

That’s right. She was mine .

“Finn Brannon!” Owen said with a delighted laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “I almost didn’t recognize you, lad.”

Glenna gasped.

“Owen Delaney,” Finn returned with a large grin.

“Heading somewhere?” Owen asked, even though all the trains and ferries were done for the day.

“Looking for Rhylen. My best mate, Kalen”—he pointed to the water spirit—“is in need of a Raven Folk male to hire.”

“That so?” Owen said to Kalen. “For what?”

“Bargaining agent,” Kalen answered and I locked eyes with him.

My already swirling mind picked up speed as intuition gripped me. Snippets of conversation echoed in my ears. Plans about buying a boat. The voices were cut off. Then images flashed through my mind’s eye.

A water spirit lad was running through the forest, a bow gripped in his hands. Screams and gunfire trailed him. Tears streamed down his face. “Anlinn!” he shouted. “Anlinn! Cá bhfuil tú? ”

“Bargaining agent for the Carrion Crime Syndicate?” Owen asked.

Kalen pulled his gaze from mine. “Yeah, mate. Caravans too.”

Finn watched me closely. He knew I saw something.

I tossed the cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with my shoe.

To break the tension, I said to Finn, “Rhy will molt a feather when he sees you,” then gestured with my head to follow and stepped off the platform in a flurry of skirts.

Owen, taking my cue, grabbed the cart handles and began pushing toward camp. “Kalen,” he said over his shoulder, “walk with me, lad.”

Glenna wove her fingers with mine and I lifted her hand to my mouth and pressed a kiss as we ambled toward camp. She was frustrated with me still. Not over having a secret, but for dangling it so obviously in front of her. I didn’t blame her. I should have explained myself far sooner. She deserved answers, even if I was afraid to reveal what I possibly was to her. Even if I didn't fully understand what was going on.

Of all the fecking people on Carran’s green earth who knew my cow, it was Finnan ó Brannon.

My unnatural cow, apparently.

Of course, a creepy arse cow would be my birthright.

Speaking of the rascal, Finn jogged up to me and Glenna, George right on his heel, and threw an arm around my shoulders with a wink at Glenna. Then he whispered in my ear, “I was tasked to help you.” I gave a quick nod and continued to peer forward. “Rhylen was an excuse to not tip off me best mate.”

Another shiver wended down my spine.

“Kalen’s going to the Greenwood,” I whispered, knowing Glenna could hear me. But she’d learn once we got to camp. "To find his sister"

“Aye.”

Anlinn! Where are you?

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