Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

20. CHAPTER 20

20

VALERIA

“She’s the best sister I could have ever wished for.”

Reina Amira Plumanegra (Casa Plumanegra) - Princess of Castella - 19 AV

T he lives of Nido’s residents can be as different from each other as the sides of a coin.

There are the guards, who live under military rigor, waking up before the sun comes out, marching and doing drills, mucking up horses, and guarding the palace at all hours.

The servants—scullery maids, laundry maids, kitchen boys, housemaids, lady’s maids, valets, nursery maids, cooks, and more—performing tasks ranging from preparing meals to scrubbing floors to applying makeup.

Clergy conducting mass in the many chapels. Courtiers attempting to gain favor with Amira and other family members. Council members attending meetings, shaping policy, stabbing each other in the back, anything in order to gain more power.

There are also stable boys and their masters, librarians, teachers, nurses, physicians, spies and informants. The list is endless.

At one point or another, I have been part of all these people’s lives, especially when I was small and at the mercy of my parents. Father used to drag me to many events involving the clergy, council members, and this or that Don and Do?a. But as I grew older, I slowly distanced myself from most of the court’s affairs, finding many of the people involved too superficial for my taste. Instead, I began to find enjoyment in the simple joy of doing crafts, the company of those closest to me like Father, Amira, Jago, Nana, Maestro Elizondo, and Cuervo, the release of sparring with a worthy opponent, and the rush of freedom whenever I managed to get on the other side of Nido’s imposing walls.

One aspect of Nido’s life that I particularly despise is the constant gatherings organized by one court member or another. They always involve elaborate food and music, ridiculous dances, women parading around in the latest fashion and hungry men who refuse to be satisfied solely by the appetizers—one and all attempting to gain advantage through learning or revealing a secret, making or breaking alliances, or seducing one another.

For a long time, I managed to stay away from all of this, and maybe that’s the reason this particular event is teeming with too many people. Not only because I’m in attendance, but because I organized it. They are curious to see what the prodigal princess has in store for them.

The event was put together at a moment’s notice, and I feared few would attend, but I shouldn’t have worried. Word traveled like a speeding arrow, and though many of the Dons and Do?as who live outside of Castellina were unable to attend, I trust that won’t be an issue. Surely, Don Justo can find a wife among all these over-powdered ladies.

My stomach churns with displeasure as I walk into the reception hall arm-in-arm with Don Justo Medrano. He is wearing a jacket in a blue hue that complements his eyes. It is adorned with gold thread embellishments and accentuates his broad shoulders and slender frame. His tall frame and imposing comportment command the room, and his gold-spun hair shines with the light spilling through the large windows. His cerulean gaze holds an unshakable confidence that seems to entrance every lady in the room.

For my part, I also wear blue, although not by design. The satin fabric of my dress shimmers and flows like ocean waters as I move. The seamstress did a wonderful job despite the haste.

The cancellation of our engagement hasn’t been announced yet. I will have to do it here, citing—per Don Justo’s request—his desire to find a wife less inclined to masculine behavior. The man thinks he’s being mean-spirited. He doesn’t realize he’s doing me a favor.

Jago tips his glass from across the room. He’s surrounded by a group of women who would like nothing better than to take his Plumanegra last name. They have no idea he has sworn off marriage. I don’t blame him. He has as much in common with those women as I do with—my gaze sweeps the floor—Conde Salvador Almolar, for instance. He asked for my hand in marriage once. The pudgy man is fanning himself and holding his wine glass with his little finger sticking up, the frills of his shirt hanging down nearly ten inches. He has one of those beauty marks Emerito liked to wear, and of course, his dog’s tail mustache.

He acknowledges me with a flourish of his fan when he notices my gaze. I return the gesture before shifting my attention to the appetizer table. I swiftly select a glass of wine and a piece of silverware to tap against it. No point in delaying the inevitable.

I’m about to clink the glass and call everyone’s attention when the Gran Duquesa Sara Plumanegra approaches, her chin held up so high it almost points to the ceiling. Wearing a slanted smile, she puts out her hand and extends it toward Don Justo. He takes it and kisses her knuckles, gaze set on her bosom as his lips linger a moment too long.

As much as the two deserve each other and despite Jago’s original idea for the couple, Sara is the last one who should marry this man. I’ve had time to think about it, and I fear their greed would compound into something dangerous .

“It is such a relief to find you are well after that terrifying ordeal at your engagement party,” Sara says. “You fought bravely, I’m told. I was fortunate enough to make a quick exit. Others weren’t so lucky.”

“Indeed,” he replies. “I was only bested by a veilfallen who could wield espiritu. That can hardly be called a fair fight. Before she attacked me, I took out a sizable number of those bastardos .”

Sara lets out a little squeak at his inappropriate language. Her eyes dart around as if to make sure no one heard. There is a delighted little smile on her lips, however, as if the edge of danger glinting in Don Justo’s eyes excites her. She was raised more sheltered than Amira and I ever were. She was never around guards, learning how to sword fight, witnessing their sometimes-crude behavior and foul language. Her mother cared only about tea parties, elaborate dresses, and gossip. Undoubtedly, she did an excellent job passing her values down to her daughter.

I must intervene and not allow whatever this is to go any further.

Just as I open my mouth to say something, the doors to the room open wide and Queen Amira’s presence is announced.

My heart leaps. Amira isn’t supposed to be in attendance. This whole affair with Don Justo is my responsibility. Has she realized I took The Eldrystone? Has she come to demand it back?

She greets a few people on her way in but heads in my direction as soon as she spots me.

I try to put on a smile, but it proves an impossible task.

“Your Majesty,” Don Justo, Sara, and I say in unison, respectfully inclining our heads.

“I am sorry to interrupt, Valeria,” Amira says, “but I need to discuss an urgent matter with you.”

I swallow thickly. I’m certain she has discovered my deed and wishes to make me atone for my betrayal. Without waiting for me to say anything, she turns on her heel and walks out. Everything else forgotten, I set down the glass and silverware and rush after my sister, a million useless excuses running through my head. If only I’d had an opportunity to switch our Plumanegra keys, but every time I’ve been by her study she or Renata have been there.

Whispering prayers under my breath, I trail behind her. She halts a cautious distance from the party in the long, empty hall.

As I stop in front of her, my face feels cold, drained entirely of blood. “What is it?” I ask, nearly out of breath.

“There has been an attack on the Biblioteca de la Reina. The veilfallen are claiming responsibility.”

There is no time for relief. This is nearly as bad as Amira figuring out that I took The Eldrystone from her. Despite the attack on the catacombs, it seems there are enough veilfallen left to still create chaos. This won’t help the fae’s cause. My sister will interpret this assault as further justification for her plan.

And the Biblioteca de la Reina? I know I shouldn’t care about the location, but I worked hard alongside Father to make the project a reality in honor of my mother. As I imagine the possible damage my chest grows tight.

It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and wonder why Amira felt the need to interrupt the party to tell me this. I doubt it was only to make me aware of the disturbing news.

“I need your help with your Romani friends,” she says.

I blink in confusion. “Why?”

“For years, our spies failed to find the veilfallen’s hiding place, but your friends accomplished it in only a few days. I want to use all the resources at my disposal in order to eradicate this threat once and for all. Please, enlist their help. They will be compensated generously, of course. That’s all they care about anyway, right?”

I shake my head. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Amira.”

“Things like what?” She raises an eyebrow in challenge. “The truth, you mean? ”

“You’re the queen, and those are your people. I don’t remember Father ever—”

She raises a hand to quiet me. The gesture is imperious and demeaning. “I’m not Father and don’t ever try to draw comparisons again.” She turns to leave, then looks over her shoulder. “I will always fall short.”

I walk back toward the party, head down as my thoughts race. My legs propel me forward, and I’m barely aware of entering the room. As I step inside, everyone grows quiet and stares at me. I search for Jago. He winces, looking sympathetic as if I’ve suffered some sort of injury.

My gaze immediately flicks to Don Justo. He’s looking satisfied, pleased with himself even. From the way everyone is peering at me, I have a feeling he just dragged my name through the dirt.

I try to muster the energy to care, but it would be easier to get Sara Plumanegra to eat dessert with her salad fork.

“He told them that Uncle Simón practically forced him into accepting your hand in marriage,” Jago explains as we walk back to my bedchamber at the end of the gathering. “Said that from the moment he met you, he knew it wouldn’t work out, that he couldn’t stand your foul mouth, and he wants to marry a lady not a… manlike hellion.”

I huff and roll my eyes.

“Sara stood by his side the entire time,” Jago says. “She was nodding so hard I thought her head would fall off. I was extremely disappointed when it didn’t.”

“Oh, well. I doubt anyone thought he was delivering some sort of obscure news. No one in their right mind has ever seen me as marriage material. ”

“That’s the spirit.” He punches my shoulder. “It’s what I’ve always said anyway.”

I glare at him.

“I mean… that marriage is a troublesome scheme. Not for smart people like you and me.”

“Ah-ha, sure.” I shake my head and sigh.

“I told you Sara would be all over Don Justo.” He sounds pleased.

“An alliance between those two is the worst thing that can happen. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t like it.”

“I don’t entirely disagree, but it was an easy way to get him off your back, which is what you wanted. Sara will probably find out that Don Justo hates poetry readings, and it will be the tragic end of their romance.”

I laugh. “I hope you’re right. Anyway, at the moment, we have bigger problems.”

He frowns. “We do?”

“Whatever’s left of the veilfallen must’ve reorganized because they just attacked the Biblioteca de la Reina.”

“Oh, shit. So that’s why Amira came to fetch you? To tell you that?”

I nod. “That, and she wants me to talk to Esmeralda and Gaspar. She thinks they can help us find the veilfallen’s new hiding place.”

Jago makes a sound in the back of his throat that expresses doubt. “The veilfallen are going to be more cautious than ever. I doubt even the Romani can help us find them this time.”

“I agree, but I’ll talk to them regardless. I haven’t had a chance to thank them for helping me, so…”

He nods. “Do you want me to ask them to come here?”

“Yes, that would be great. In the meantime, I’ll attempt to mitigate the damages however I can.”

“Good luck with that.” He sounds as skeptical as I feel. “I’ll go find Gaspar and Esmeralda right away. ”

“Thank you, Jago.”

He waves a hand to let me know there’s no reason to thank him, but he has no idea. I would be lost without him.

Once in my bedchamber, it only takes me a moment to change out of my dress and replace it with a comfortable outfit. After that, I rush across the east wing and make it to the center area in record time. I must make another attempt to return Amira’s key.

There are no guards in front of her study’s door. A good sign. I knock. No answer. I knock once more, louder this time. Still nothing. I exhale in relief.

Looking right and left, I try the knob. The door is locked. But that’s not a problem—not with Amira’s key hanging around my neck. Pulling the chain over my head, I quickly key the lock and slip into the room. I breathe slowly, trying to calm my nerves. Everything is tidy, tidier than when this was Father’s domain. A pang of sadness assaults me as I imagine him stroking his beard. I push the image away and march toward the heavy cabinet.

Swiftly, I open the drawer and make the switch. I ensure Amira’s key rests perfectly in its velvet-lined box, then hang my own key around my neck—its weight instantly feeling right and reassuring me. Amira may still find out what I did, but at least a casual peek into the cabinet won’t send her running to the vault.

The sound of steps outside the door sends me into a panic. My eyes rove around, trying to find a hiding place, but that’s only my first instinct. Hiding would be ridiculous. Instead, I throw myself into a corner armchair, my posture slumped to make it appear as if I’ve been waiting in boredom for some time.

When Renata opens the door, using her key, she blinks at me in surprise. My sister pushes past her adviser and also stops in her tracks.

She frowns. “What are you doing here?” She glances at Renata. “Didn’t you lock the door? ”

“I… I thought I did, Your Majesty.” Renata stares at the floor, her eyes moving from side to side as she searches her memories. She seems uncertain, which helps my case.

I let out a huge yawn and straighten. “I’m sorry I let myself in. You know social gatherings exhaust me. It was nice and quiet here. Just what I needed.”

Amira appears unsure for a moment, then seems to push her concern aside and walks to the desk.

Straightening and stretching like a lazy cat, I say, “Um, I came to tell you that I talked to Jago about enlisting the Romani to help us. He’s trying to contact them as we speak.”

“Good,” she replies, barely acknowledging me. Clearly, this isn’t one of the most prominent items on her list of worries.

I stand and approach her desk. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

“There isn’t,” she assures me, barely sparing a glance my way.

“Are you sure? I could—”

“You already made it clear you disagree with my plan to relocate the fae, so unless you have changed your mind, I assure you there’s nothing you can help me with.”

“Amira, perhaps you should reconsider. There are—”

“I don’t need another lecture, sister. There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. So please leave. I have important things to do.”

I lower my head and take a few steps back. “I’m sorry. I will let you know if I learn anything from the Romani.”

She only grunts in response, and as I close the door behind me, I can’t help but wonder about the path ahead of her. What comes to mind looks nothing like what I used to imagine before Father died. I always envisioned her as a fair queen, happily married to a good man, and mother to a few bright kids, who would promise an even brighter future. Now, I see none of those things.

Instead, I perceive darkness and unrest. I picture her as a bitter woman, always distrustful, even of those who love her most and have her best interest at heart. I want nothing more than to take this burden off her shoulders, want to erase the possibility of that gloomy future, and I only see one way to do it—the same one that occurred to me in the dungeons and has been plaguing me every moment of the day.

Gods, but what if I’m wrong? What if I make things worse and my actions only guarantee the bleak future I’ve imagined?

I would never forgive myself. There has to be a way to dissuade her. I have to keep trying.