Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

3. CHAPTER 3

3

VALERIA

“I bear the literal scars of my encounter with Loreleia Elhice. Her daughter thinks her one of their saints, but she is wrong.”

Rífíor, Veilfallen - 21 AV

I shake my head as he crouches in front of me, refusing the notion that my sweet mother had anything to do with the collapse of the veil between Castella and Tirnanog.

She wouldn’t have done such a thing. She was the kind of person who would have never brought pain to anyone, much less countless of her kin.

“You’re lying,” I say, hating him even more than I already do. It doesn’t matter what he says. He won’t taint the memories of my mother.

“I am not lying. All you have to do is think about it for a moment, and you will see that I speak the truth.”

I glance away, breaking eye contact. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“But you will because your precious mother is responsible for the pain of thousands. Gods know how many fae and humans are trapped away from their homes—all because your mother lusted over something that didn’t belong to her. She used The Eldrystone to close the veil, Valeria. She did it so she could keep the amulet for herself.”

I hug my legs, curling up tightly, trying to stave the chills the lies and dankness in this place drill into my bones.

It’s true that the jewel didn’t belong to Mother. I did learn of its origin at the library and with Maestro Elizondo. I know The Eldrystone is Niamhara’s conduit, which she gave to the Theric family—the royal monarchy—to ensure the balance of magic in the fae realm. Rífíor isn’t lying about that.

But the rest? I know Mother would have never done what he claims. She would have never condemned others to live away from their homes and families. She loved Father, Amira, and me above all else. Kinship was the most important thing to her.

Armoring myself with indifference, I recline against the wall and close my eyes. I still feel a chill in my bones, but I’m sure it has nothing to do with Rífíor’s claims. No warmth reaches this miserable place, and perhaps I’m growing sick. I feel a fever coming on.

Rífíor exhales deeply, and I know this means he’s trying to rein in his anger. He easily loses his temper, and I delight in causing him such frustration.

“What do you really know about your mother, huh?” he asks. “That she was from a small, inconsequential village. That she somehow ended up in Castella and met Prince Simón Plumanegra, no less, and then married him and became queen. Far-fetched for a humble fae female, don’t you think?”

My father, before he became king, liked to spend summers out in the country. For weeks at a time, he postponed his normal duties to spend time living like a regular Castellan. He stayed at a friend’s farm, worked the fields, and helped with the livestock. He was never the kind to shy away from hard labor. I know this because I witnessed him mucking up his own horse every day after he went for a late afternoon ride.

It was during one of his yearly trips to the country that he met my mother. She had decided to cross the veil and visit Castella. Father was harvesting hay by his friend’s homestead, when he spotted someone sleeping under a nearby tree. It was Mother. He used to tell Amira and me how the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he would marry her one day. This is how they met, and no story anyone else can tell me in its place will supplant Father’s own. Certainly not a recounting from a liar like Rífíor.

Despite my indifference, he goes on. “Your father only married her because she had The Eldrystone in her possession.”

I huff. “You’re pathetic, you know? You’re so twisted up inside that you can’t imagine anyone loving just for the sake of it. And you’re so obsessed with that damn rock that you can’t see past your own nose. Father and Mother loved each other very much. But I know enough about you to realize you don’t understand how love works. Why is that? Who broke you? Huh?”

Something flashes in his gaze that makes me think I’ve hit upon something.

“It seems I’m not the only one who doesn’t understand,” he barks. “We need The Eldrystone to reopen the veil. That is what all of this boils down to. You and your mother and all the Plumanegras don’t matter. My people can’t stand being in this place any longer.”

“And so I’m supposed to give you the amulet? Trust you? One of the most accomplished liars and scumbags I know?”

His mouth opens and closes ineffectually. What sort of argument can he offer to prove he’s deserving of all this power when everything about him is deceit and manipulation?

As he stares at me with unbridled resentment, I keep going, hoping to make sure my point gets across. “You say my mother stole The Eldrystone because she was greedy and wanted its power, so if that’s the case, tell me why she never used it for anything? You also said the amulet was the reason my father married her. In that case, the same question stands. Why didn’t he use it either? In fact, this powerful tool you crave so keenly was hidden in an old sewing box for years. After Mother died, Father let me keep it as a toy. So, you see why I don’t believe a word you’re saying?”

He shakes his head, doubt shaping his expression. His argument doesn’t hold water. It’s weak and nonsensical, and what else is also weak: the fact that he hasn’t once tried to explain where he fits in this convoluted scheme.

I look him up and down with distaste. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it make sense, Rífíor . Also, there’s an important piece of information you should’ve started with. You could have explained who the hells you are, how you knew my mother, how you knew The Eldrystone was in her possession, and how, oh how, did you get the amulet in the first place.”

“Bah! All of that is of no consequence.”

“Really?” I turn my mouth down and shrug. “All right, whatever you say. Though you should know you’re putting on a poor show for someone who wants to convince me to betray my mother and my people.”

“Betray your mother? She started all of this!”

“Did she?”

His dark eyes narrow, and I can tell he’s lying. I know every angle of his face, every twist of his mouth, every tick of his jaw, no matter how slight. Maybe he didn’t think I was paying attention when he was pretending to be Guardia Bastien Mora, but I learned to read some of his expressions. He was always so stoic, so corpse-like through his performance that I was forced to acquire enough sensibility to decipher him at times.

“Yes. She did,” he spits.

“I can tell you’re lying.”

“She’s responsible for the veil’s collapse, Valeria. Hold no doubt about it.” He sounds absolutely certain, and something in the depths of his eyes cuts through my barriers and makes me hesitate.

What if she really did what he claims? What if she used The Eldrystone to shut the passage between Castella and Tirnanog? If she did, then there must have been a good reason, something else Rífíor has conveniently failed to mention.

“Let’s pretend I believe you,” I say.

He holds himself very still.

“Why did she do it then? Why would my mother bar her own way back home? Why torture herself like that? She was never able to see her family again. She missed Tirnanog as one misses a limb.”

Once more, his cold expression shows a tiny crack. It’s no more than a slight flinch, but I recognize it for what it is. There is more.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” he demands. “Wouldn’t you be glad to be rid of me? Of all of us?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “It would give me much pleasure never to see your scarred face again.”

“Then give me The Eldrystone!”

“No,” I say. “Because it gives me infinitely more satisfaction to see you squirm, bastardo.”

“And you don’t care that in the process you’re hurting so many others?”

“You said Castella could burn to the ground and you wouldn’t care, so why should I?”

“Because you are good, Valeria. I know you.”

I nod slowly. “Yes, I was good. I wanted everyone to get along. I always argued with Father about giving the fae a voice in the council. He tried to tell me over and over not to be so na?ve, not to trust so openly. I thought he was embittered because he lost the love of his life, but I was wrong. What he offered me was wisdom. I didn’t learn it in time, and I paid for it.”

Legs shaking, I push to my feet, so I can tell him what he needs to hear while standing, holding my head high with what little dignity I have left. He also stretches from his crouching position .

“I’m not good anymore, Rífíor. I’m just as broken as you are, and it was you who did this to me, you who stomped all over what little innocence I had left and crushed it to dust.”

He swallows, holding my gaze and looking at the verge of yelling at me to shut up.

“I told you this before,” I go on before he can stop me, “but you don’t seem to want to listen, so hear me out one more time… I will never give you The Eldrystone. Never. I don’t care if it has the power to reopen the veil. I only care that you are forever kept from what you want most.”