Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

16. CHAPTER 16

16

VALERIA

“I must think of something to protect us from the fae before they invade every home in Castella.”

Reina Amira Plumanegra (Casa Plumanegra) - Queen of Castella - 21 AV

N erves tingle all over my body, making me restless. I need a release, so I go in search of Jago. I find him in his room, sprawled on the floor atop a mountain of cushions.

“Hey, how about a sparring match?” I ask.

“Not in the mood.” He yawns.

“I need the exercise and not to mention the release of sword-to-sword combat.” I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to tell him I’m a thief.

“Wine can have the same effect.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did you miss the part where I said exercise ?”

Getting up from his comfortable nest, he tips an imaginary glass to his lips five times in a row. “Need I say more?”

“But—”

He stops in front of me and presses a finger to my lips to silence me. “I’ve been thinking about how to get Don Justo off your back, and I think I came up with something.”

“You did?! I knew I could count on you. What should I do?”

“I can only discuss this if we exercise .” He tips an imaginary glass again.

I roll my eyes and sigh. “Fine then.”

We leave his room, take a sharp right, and head to the main cellar. There are three, one in each wing and one in the central building. We’re headed to the latter, the biggest one of them.

When we get there, Jago uses his Plumanegra key on the lock. To the right of the door, a shelf contains an array of candlesticks in brass holders. I grab one and light the candle in one of the gas lamps attached to the wall. The lamps are kept lit around the clock for this very purpose.

After pushing the door open, Jago grabs his own candlestick and lights it too, then descends the steep steps into the cellar.

“I know just the bottle I want to open,” he says.

A shiver climbs up my arms as the temperature drops. When we reach the bottom, Jago proceeds to light candles arranged on a table situated in the center of the elongated chamber.

“I’ll get the wine. You get the rest.” He walks down one of the many narrow aisles that extend into the darkness, carrying his candlestick.

I procure a corkscrew, glasses, and pristine white napkins from a well-stocked hutch, then arrange two places for us at a tall table.

“Get some cheese, why don’t you?” Jago’s voice echoes from down the aisle. All I see is his face illuminated by candlelight as he searches the shelves.

Before I fulfill this request, I retrieve a coat from a rack on the wall and slip it on. It’s slightly big, but the fur-lined collar promises the right amount of warmth. All the cellars are provisioned and maintained properly, supervised every day by one of the ama de llaves —mistresses of keys—and I must say, they think of everything.

I find the customary three small wheels of cheese in the rack. I cut a few pieces of Jago’s favorite, Manchego, and my favorite, Roncal.

Jago returns with the candlestick in one hand, a wine bottle in the other, and a huge smile on his face. “1789 DV Xérès Oloroso. I’ve been working my way back through the different vintages, and this is next. I’ve heard it’s exquisite.”

He expertly opens the bottle and pours it into the glasses. We both swirl and smell the wine, then take a small sip.

A moan sounds in the back of Jago’s throat, and he closes his eyes, savoring. He smacks his lips. “It doesn’t disappoint.”

“Agree,” I say, the taste is wonderfully nutty with lots of depth.

He pulls a stool closer to the table and sits, one leg on the stone floor and the other hooked over the footrest.

Once he appears comfortable, I get to the point. “So what’s your idea? How do we deal with Don Justo?”

“We kill him,” he announces.

I almost choke on my wine. After coughing a few times, I clear my throat. “You can’t be se—”

He laughs. “Of course, I’m not serious. The man is a dolt, but he did fight valiantly during what, from now on, shall be known as,” he holds his glass up, “ The woes of the whimsical and witty Princess Valeria Plumanegra and the stolen fae amulet .”

“Don’t you think that’s a tad too long?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

“If length doesn’t matter then you—” I begin.

Jago interrupts me. “Speak for yourself. I think length does matter, almost as much as girth.”

I laugh, and I think it’s the first time since I’ve been back.

He winks, satisfied with himself.

I take a sip of wine, then say, “All I was going to say is that you should add your name to the title. You also played a part.”

“ Pshaw , all I did was fetch Cuervo, and even that chicken played a bigger role than me.”

I shake my head. “You’re my partner in crime. Without you, I would be lost.”

He considers for a moment, then nods. “True.” He refills his glass and clinks it to mine. “Here’s to my partner in crime, my cousin from another dungeon! Together, we’ve committed acts so legendary, even the bards can’t sing their glory. We navigate the treacherous waters of mischief like a pair of swashbuckling pirates—except our treasure chests are filled with laughter and our swords are… er… made of cheese.” He pops a piece of Manchego into his mouth.

I laugh once more. This time more heartedly, then clear my throat and do my own toast. “To the one who always has my back, even when we’re running from angry bastardos in disguise. May our schemes be as endless as the excuses you come up with…”

“Hey!” he protests.

I go on. “And may our adventures be as wild as the time we convinced Nana that we didn’t injure our fingers while juggling daggers. Here’s to us, allies in absurdity!”

We laugh, holding our stomachs and pounding the table. It almost feels like old times, but I sober up too quickly, fearing I have no right to merriment—not when I consider what Amira is planning to do to our fae neighbors.

“It’ll get easier,” Jago says, noticing my change in expression. “Memories will fade.”

I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to, Father’s death, Bastien’s betrayal, the fact that I killed someone, or the torture I endured in the catacombs, but maybe I’ve quickly made my peace with all those things because I’m more worried about what’s to come than what lies behind.

“So what’s your real plan to get Don Justo off my back?” I ask, knowing I have to get this one problem out of the way before I tackle any others.

“All right,” Jago begins, “You might’ve noticed all the attention he was getting during the ball. The bloke is good-looking. You have to admit. ”

I move my head from side to side, considering this. It’s hard to be objective because when I consider Don Justo in his entirety, his abrasive personality overshadows whatever good looks he may possess. His every dashing smile becomes chilling, and the sparkle in his blue eyes seems malicious.

Jago bats a hand. “Even if you can’t admit it, every other woman present at the ball noticed. Many looked positively green with envy.”

“So?”

“So one of them was Gran Duquesa Sara Plumanegra.”

I narrow my eyes, thoughts speeding and tripping over Jago’s insinuation. “Are you suggesting that supercilious Sara should marry Don Justo?”

He gives me a huge smile and nods, looking proud of himself.

“She would never agree to marry a man without a title. Or any man, for that matter. She thinks everyone is leagues below her.”

“Except you and Amira. She has always been jealous of you two. You’re the only ones she’s ever nice to.”

“That’s not true. She is never nice.”

“Like I said, she’s jealous of you and might love the thought of breaking you and Don Justo up.”

“All right, but it’s a big leap to assume she’ll marry him, and that he’ll agree to take a grand duchess over a princess.”

Jago smiles wickedly. “Who said they would have to agree?”

Still smiling from ear to ear, he explains what he has in mind, and when he’s done telling me everything, I feel sullied.

“We can’t,” I say. “It’s not right.”

“If you want something that feels right , you shouldn’t have asked me for ideas, Dear Val.”

I grab my head and rub circles into my temples.

“If you can think of another way, I’m all ears.”

Sighing, I say, “I’ll just have to talk to him. Appeal to his conscience. ”

“Good luck with that. I don’t think the man knows how to take no for an answer. He’s accustomed to winning.”

“I have to try.”

He pours more wine for himself. I wave a hand at my glass when he tries to do the same for me.

He shrugs. “More for me.”

“There’s something else you should know,” I say.

“Oh, saints! Do I even want to hear it?”

“Amira is planning to create a holding compound for the fae,” I blurt out.

He stops, glass halfway to his mouth, and stares at me, slack-jawed. “Is that a joke?”

I shake my head.

“She told you this?”

“No. I accidentally read the proposal when I was in her study.”

“That’s wrong.” He pauses, then adds, “Cruel, even. What is she thinking?”

“I… I feel as if she’s become a different person, Jago. As if Orys…” I search for the right words, “ tainted her and he’s still coloring her every decision.”

“What are you saying? That she’s still possessed? Or… not in her right mind?”

I stare at the bottom of my empty glass. “I… I don’t know. It’s not like she doesn’t have the right to be angry, but I don’t think she’s seeing clearly, and I’m afraid of what the council will do with this idea of hers.”

“Oh, I know exactly what they’ll do,” he says. “They’ll run with it.”

Abandoning the wine glass, I begin pacing along the table. “I know the idea of reopening the veil won’t fix all our problems, but it has to be better than what she’s planning.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Only the saints know what has happened on the other side of the veil these last twenty years, but one thing I’m sure of… when the fae go back to their homes, they won’t have anything nice to say about us, on the contrary. I still think opening the veil will invite a war we can’t win.”

“What if… what if… we close it after they go back?”

He contemplates quietly for a moment, then says, “Assuming the amulet will oblige, you would have to open it and close it more than once. It would take time to get the message out across Castella to all of those who were displaced.”

I nod, considering. “We could send a notice and set a few dates throughout the year to allow them to cross.”

Pushing the cheese around on his plate, Jago shakes his head. “I don’t know, Val. The Fae King is going to want his amulet back. The moment he realizes what’s happening, he’ll send his army to retrieve it.”

I let out a frustrated exhale. Jago is right. “Then we set one date, send the message out, and only open the veil once.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize there is a big problem with both of these ideas. The fae don’t trust us.

“Do you think the fae would believe such a message?” he asks, echoing the same thought that just sprouted into my head.

I sigh. “No. They won’t come. In fact, they’ll probably go into hiding.”

They live among us now, but the moment they hear we’re trying to round them up, my idea won’t sound any better than Amira’s.

Mind racing, I pace the length of the table several more times before I propose my next idea. “I open the veil, cross to Tirnanog, shut it again, then talk to King Theric and broker a peaceful solution.”

“San Miguel protect you, cousin. I doubt you’ll get a warm reception.”

“Maybe I will, if I hand him Rífíor on a silver platter.”

Jago’s gaze flicks from side to side as he considers. “It’s risky, but it might work. Our family always had good relations with the Therics. But do you think Amira will allow it? ”

I consider for a long moment. My mind tells me that she will. Amira is reasonable, logical. But my gut tells me something completely different.

“ Your survival instincts are in your gut, ” Father told me more than once. “ If you don’t listen to them, you’re inviting disaster. ”

Even as Father’s words echo inside my mind, I try to convince myself that my sister’s heart remains unchanged, that it still harbors goodness. If I’m wrong, the fate of Castella may be in jeopardy.