Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

1. CHAPTER 1

1

VALERIA

“I have broken my Tuathacath vows a thousand times. I know not how I shall live with the shame when I return to Tirnanog because, by all the gods, I shall return.”

Calierin Kelraek - Tuathacath Warrior and Veilfallen - 21 AV

T he dead and the living sleep within the catacombs. Silence hangs heavy in the air, as thick as the dankness of this place. My wrists burn as I continue struggling, pulling, twisting, trying to get free of the ropes that bind me to the cot.

No one has been to check on me in over an hour.

My thumbs hurt as I bend them toward my palms. With one heedless pull, I yank my hands past the tight, coarse ropes. They fall to the side.

Oh, gods! I’m free!

I bite my lower lip to stifle a cry. A layer of skin has been rubbed off in the process, and the raw wounds left behind sting.

Even as my pain flares, I quickly undo the ropes wrapped around my ankles. I stand, and my head swims. Swaying on bare feet, I hold on to the wall, taking deep breaths. A lonely torch burns in a bracket on the wall, warming my face. I close my eyes to the soothing feeling.

C’mon, Val. Get it together .

I will my senses to focus. This is my chance to escape Rífíor and his veilfallen. I may not get another one.

They’ve been keeping me in a dead-end tunnel, a small alcove that once held bones but has since been desecrated. I’ve been here for four days. Five? I’m not sure. It’s difficult to tell time in this eternal darkness. I still wear the silver-spun dress, my engagement gown. It’s torn and doesn’t balloon around me like it did that night. While I was unconscious, after I risked my life to save Amira’s as she plummeted to the floor, someone must have removed the inner hoop. Now, the beautiful material is ruined, stained black and torn at the edges. At least the many layers of fabric keep my legs warm, even if they drag, which is more than I can say for the revealing bodice.

Taking a few tentative steps, I make it to the arched doorway. Beyond, two more torches are anchored to the wall, their orange glow illuminating a passage flanked by stone walls and a dirt floor.

I see no signs of life.

Crouching, I hurry up the narrow corridor, heart lodged in my throat. At a fork, I look in both directions. I have no idea which way to go. I choose left.

After taking two more left turns and encountering no one, I arrive at another alcove, this one much larger than the last.

I cautiously approach the wall where I notice several hollows. I squint, trying to discern the contents of one of them and jump back when I stare into two empty sockets, the macabre nature of the chamber revealed. More tombs. The hollow is filled with a jumble of bones, a leering skull sitting on top.

A chill races down my spine as I sense the weight of all the forgotten souls trapped in this timeless sepulcher. The dim light flickers, casting eerie shadows that seem to elongate and grasp with bony fingers. The boundary between the living and the dead is thin here, and the past clings tenaciously to the present .

A whispering voice echoes behind me. I twirl to face another hollow, also filled with bones.

You’re imagining things, Val. Keep moving.

The whisper echoes again, this time from my left. My breaths coming in a quick staccato, I turn in that direction. In front of me, there’s only darkness, another passage without illumination.

I glance back the way I came, wondering if I should go back or keep going forward. The sound of steps from whence I came provides the answer. I remove one of the torches from the wall and rush into the passage ahead.

The darkness seems to swallow the light like a starving monster. I can’t see more than a couple of feet in front of me.

Once more, there are whispers.

This time, they seem to come from all around me. I twirl in a circle, the torch flickering.

“It’s lonely here,” someone whispers, the voice intelligible now.

I take several steps back, and my back hits the wall. “W-who said that?”

There is a long silence without any sound, then the voice again. “Is… is someone there?”

I stretch my arm, shining the light further ahead. A gasp escapes my lips when I catch a glimpse of grimy toes peeking from under the hem of an equally grimy dress. I take a step closer, the puddle of light moves with me, creeping forward until it reveals a woman sitting on the damp ground, knees bent, arms tightly hugging her legs.

The grubby-faced creature peers up at me, eyes wide and wet, the bottom of her face hidden behind her arms. Matted blond hair sits in a nest atop her head. She’s trembling like a terrified animal.

“Are you all right?” I move closer.

She skitters back, whimpering.

I freeze, put one hand up. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Gods! Are these endless passages all filled with prisoners ?

Blinking, she lifts her head fully. “Va-Valeria, is that you?”

I my head to one side, shaken. I don’t recognize this person, but she knows me. “Who are you?” I move closer still, making no sudden movements that might alarm her.

On shaky legs, she stands, a hand pressed to the wall for support. “It’s me, your mother.”

I lean backward, away from her “You’re not my mother. My mother is dead,” I say, anger replacing every other emotion I feel. This is no joking matter.

She pushes her matted hair away from her face, revealing pointed ears in the process. “I’m not dead. They lied to you. I’m here. I’ve been right here all along.”

“No, it’s impossible. I… I saw you die. I was there.” I shake my head, pushing away the hope that threatens to fill my chest.

“I knew you would find me. I knew it would be you,” she says, walking closer on too-thin legs.

The light from the torch spreads across her face, highlighting her fine features.

I let out a trembling gasp, eyes roving over her high cheekbones, her narrow nose, her perfectly sculpted brow. “Mother?”

She nods. “Yes, it’s me, Val.”

I throw an arm around her neck and pull her to me. Tears slide down my cheeks as I try not to sob like a child. Somehow, my mother is here. She isn’t dead. Orys didn’t kill her. My heart stumbles, gripped in a blend of anguish and confusion.

But… but… her body. It was on the floor of the throne room. We held a funeral, a burial.

Holding her at arm’s length, I ask, “How? How is this possible?”

She smiles, her eyes full of the tenderness time dulled in my memories. “My love, there is no time to explain. We have to get out of here.”

“I don’t know the way out. ”

Her eyes rove around the chamber, and I can see her thoughts firing rapidly across her expression. “There’s only one way.” A pause as she searches my gaze. “We have to use the amulet.”

I press a hand to my temple, shake my head, and repeat numbly, “The amulet?”

“It will show us the way out,” she promises. “It can do anything we asked of it. We can go home. Be a family again. Father, Amira, you, and me. Happy again. Don’t you want that?”

The pain of her absence is more vivid as I imagine all of us together like before. She missed so much of our lives, but maybe we can make up for lost time. Except… we can’t.

My throat hurts as I force the words out. “Father, he’s de—”

“He’s waiting for us.” She caresses the side of my face, such tenderness in her features. No one has looked at me with this much love since… since…

I pull away, try to clear my mind. Something is wrong. This isn’t—

“I need it, my love, my little pixie, please!” Mother begs. “We’ll be trapped here forever if you don’t give me my amulet.”

“But I don’t know where it is.”

“Don’t lie, Valeria. I gave it to you. It’s the only thing that can save me.”

“Save you?”

“Yes, danger lurks. I can feel it in the air.”

Those words. Someone else said them to me. Cold fingers slide down my back, and my chest tightens as a terrible feeling of dread saturates me.

“Where is it?” she asks. “Please, I don’t want to be here anymore. You have to help me.”

“I… I…It’s in the…” A knot forms in my throat.

“Find the princess! She escaped!” The order echoes through the long corridors I left behind. They’re coming for me .

“They’re almost here, daughter. Hurry,” my mother urges. “Tell me where it is, and everything will be all right.”

“It’s in the Re…”

Don’t tell them. Don’t! a voice screams inside my head. It’s a trick. It’s all a trick .

“C’mon, dear, you can trust me,” Mother tries to touch my free hand.

“No! You’re not real.” My other hand tightens around the torch.

“But of course, I’m real.” Her face flickers in and out as she says this.

“Liar!” I jump back and shove the flame in her direction.

She screams in pain, covering her face with her hands.

Oh, gods! What have I done?!

“Mother!” I reach for her.

She jerks away and reveals her features. Her left cheek is raw, skin melting, only glistening tissue left behind.

I cry out in horror and keep crying until my voice is hoarse, and my throat aches and I wish I could die. I’m thrashing, struggling against rough bindings around my wrists, turning away from a blinding light that pierces all the way into the back of my skull.

“Fucking human!” a familiar voice that I despise growls.

My cries turn to small sobs as I remember where I am, and what is happening. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction to see me suffer.

“You’re pathetic,” my torturer sneers, Calierin, Rífíor’s sorceress.

Her espiritu fills my throat, toxic fumes turning the taste in my mouth into acrid ash.

It takes all the strength I have left, but I bite my tongue and go eerily quiet, refusing to let this bitch know how much it hurt to see my mother and believe—if only for a moment—that she was still alive.

Laughter begins in the pit of my stomach and slowly bubbles out of my mouth until I’m throwing my head back, and the tears rolling down my face are of a different, bitter kind. Through wet lashes, I peer up at Calierin, her fae features sharp as blades, and give her a hateful sneer to match her own. She stands over me, menacing, while I sit on the damp floor, hands tied to two spikes staked to the ground at my sides. My arms are outstretched like wings, kept so taut it feels my shoulders will pop out of their sockets.

“ We have to use the amulet. Where is it? ” I say in a high-pitched, mocking voice. Abruptly, I stop laughing and through clenched teeth tell her the only truth that lies in my heart. “I’m never going to tell you where it is. NEVER!”

“Mallachtdorch! ” Calierin curses. “My hands are tied, Rífíor. I’ve already told you this shy torture is a waste of time.”

Rífíor, my captor, pulls away from the shadows, the scarred side of his face catching the light from the nearest torch, causing the gash that runs across his right eye to look like liquid silver. His raven-black hair gleams in the torchlight. He’s so tall the top of his head nearly hits the ceiling of the cramped alcove. I can’t help but stare at his pointed ears and sharp fae features. He is Bastien, and yet… he is not.

“You need to let me do this my way.” Calierin unsheathes a dagger from her belt and places the tip under my eye.

I lean back until my head hits the wall. The blade pierces my skin. A trickle of blood slides down my cheek. My gaze locks with River’s—or Rífíor, whatever he’s called.

“You’re a coward,” I tell him. “Come do this yourself.”

Calierin puts more pressure on the dagger. I feel the strain in my eyeball as it gets pushed back. My exhales come out unevenly, and I hate that they give away my fear.

“Leave, Calierin,” Rífíor orders.

“Why are you being soft on her? If this amulet is capable of what you say, we don’t have time for this.”

“Leave,” he insists.

“We’ve been trapped in this godsforsaken realm long enough, and we—”

“LEAVE!”

Her hand trembles, revealing her rage and causing the tip of the dagger to widen the wound it has already opened. A whimper sounds in my throat. It takes her a couple of beats, but she finally pulls away, sheathes her weapon, and leaves the alcove.

Rífíor comes closer. Rífíor… this is his true name, not River and certainly not Bastien. It’s what Calierin calls him, and I can see why everyone in Castellina mistakes the pronunciation.

I call upon my will in order to hold his ferocious black gaze. By no means will I let him know he affects me in any way. The only thing I want him to know is that I hate him.

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Rífíor says. “Loreleia, I mean.”

“Get my mother’s name out of your filthy mouth, bastardo!” My words are a low growl that makes me sound like a rabid dog. It’s what they’re turning me into, a feral creature that wants to bite and tear.

He squats, meets me eye to eye. The muscles in his forearms ripple. He interlaces his large hands, elbows resting on his knees.

Only four days ago, I was mesmerized by that gaze, feeling I could willingly fall into its depths. Now, I would tear out his eyes and feed them to Cuervo… if I was into letting Cuervo eat garbage.

Moving slowly, he sets one knee on the ground, leans forward, and reaches for one of my bindings. He is close, so close that I can smell him, a combination of sweat and the dankness of this place. Without breaking eye contact, he works on undoing my restraint. I hold his gaze, unflinching.

He glances down at my lips for a split second.

“I hate that I allowed you to touch me,” I sneer. “Every time I think about it, I want to throw up.”

“You thought quite differently when you were moaning under my weight, little princess.” He finishes undoing the rope and sits back on his hunches, putting some much-needed distance between us .

I scoot over toward my still-restrained arm, and nearly sob at the release of pressure in my shoulders.

Hiding my relief, I say, “I was stupid and na?ve then. I’m quite a different person now, and I assure you, you inspire nothing but disgust in me. Those memories repulse me.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “A shame, really, because if you ever get out of here alive,” he twirls his finger to indicate our surroundings, “you would eventually realize it is the best fuck you will ever have.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. One, I will get out of here. And two, my memories of you are so soured by reality that even my hand will be a better fuck than you ever were.”

Rífíor throws his head back and laughs. “What a naughty princess you have become, Valeria Plumanegra.” His laughter ceases abruptly. “But I’m not here to talk about our little lamentable tryst.”

“I know that. Clearly, you’re here to get your kicks while your lackey tortures me.”

He shakes his head. “I have no interest in your suffering or anything else about you. This entire realm and all its inhabitants can go up in flames for all I care. There’s only one thing that matters to me, and it’s The Eldrystone.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I embrace the certainty of his words. Rífíor would not hesitate to reduce Castella to ashes if it meant securing Niamhara’s conduit for himself. Yet, it is precisely this understanding, coupled with my ability to thwart his desires, that makes all the pain worth it—gratifying even.

“That is why,” he continues, “I’ve decided to tell you why it is so important to me, why I need it, and why I did what I did.”

“You did it for the same reason as Orys. You did it because you want its power.”

He shakes his head. “No. That is not the reason, Valeria. But I understand if you can’t see past your own shortcomings, past your own greed. ”

Rífíor insists on saying that, but greed has nothing to do with my desire to keep the amulet. Only revenge does.

He goes on. “The reason I want it, the reason I need it, has nothing to do with a hunger for power. Far from it, and I think it’s time I tell you everything.”

I hate the part of me that rears its head and stands at attention at his words. I want to remain indifferent to anything concerning this male. He doesn’t deserve even the smallest morsel of curiosity from me. But I can’t help but crave for understanding.

Why has he ordered Calierin to subject me to one nightmarish dreamscape after another: my mother’s presence just moments ago, Amira’s brutal end at Orys’s hands, Father transforming into a monstrous raven intent on devouring me, and more? Why? I want to know.

Why did Rífíor infiltrate Nido? Why did he pretend to be someone he is not? Why did he seduce me in order to get his hands on the stupid gem?

I clench my teeth and tighten my fists, hating myself even more for allowing the pain of a broken heart to make me weak.

“So, tell me then, why do you want The Eldrystone?” I ask between clenched teeth. “Lie to me, Rífíor of the Veilfallen, weave your falsehoods as only you know how.”

“What I will tell you next is no lie, Valeria Plumanegra. I only hope that my honesty will appeal to the charity of the woman I first met in Nido.”