Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

22. CHAPTER 22

22

VALERIA

“The wind of fate blows all ships, but the captain steers his own course.”

Old Castellan Proverb

A s we leave the council room, Amira grabs me by the elbow and pulls me aside. She waits for everyone to walk out of earshot then hisses in my face.

“How dare you oppose me so publicly?” she demands. “We talked about this, and you knew my position well.”

“I’m sorry, Amira, but I felt it was my responsibility to speak my mind.”

“For what little good it did. All you’ve managed to do is let everyone know you don’t stand with me. I thought we could do this together. I thought we could be a family, but since Mother died, you always set yourself apart from Father and me. You always stood on the wrong side of who we are.”

I yank my elbow from her grasp. “Who we are?” My chest starts heaving. “There are no sides.”

“Of course, there are. You live in Castella, not Tirnanog. Mother filled your head with nonsense. That realm is out of our reach, and it will forever remain that way, so it would serve you right to embrace what is real—not some fantasy land you will never see.”

I shake my head. She’s wrong. I will see Tirnanog. I have always believed that. My every daydream growing up started with the miraculous reopening of the veil. Countless times, I imagined espiritu flowing back into Castella and reigniting the shifting skills passed down to our family from our fae ancestors. And in those dreams, Father, Amira and I conquered the sky together, black wings beating at the rhythm of our hearts, the thrill of who we really are coursing through our veins.

Amira scans my face, then snorts with forced amusement, likely seeing my hopes etched in my expression.

“You have always been a hopeless dreamer.” She shakes her head and takes a few steps back. “I hope you will come around. If you want to sit by my side to help me create a better future for Castella, I will be glad to have you. I dearly hope you will reconsider your position.”

Golden brown hair and olive dress whipping, Amira turns and walks away, her back straight, her steps firm. Renata waits for her down the hall and immediately pushes a stack of papers into Amira’s hands, rattling instructions about the rest of the day.

I walk away, temples pounding, feeling the weight of my responsibilities pressing down on me like an anvil atop my head. Amira already sees my dissent as a betrayal. What will she think when she finds out I’ve taken The Eldrystone?

Of their own accord, my feet veer in an unintentional direction, and I find I’m heading toward Nana’s bedchamber once more. She’s still in her rocking chair, needles in hand, attempting to knit.

“What are you doing, Nana?” I ask. “You know that isn’t good for your hands.”

She sets her work down on her lap and looks up. “Two visits in one day. I would say I’m glad, if not because I know the circumstances. ”

I sit across from her and stare at the gray ball of yarn on the floor. She taught me to knit while Mother passed down her embroidery skills.

“I’m making some mittens for Jago,” she says. I know what she’s doing: using small talk to get me to calm down and open up to her. She knows me so well.

“You shouldn’t be,” I say. “Your hands will hurt tomorrow.”

“They always hurt, ni?a. But not to worry, I’m taking my time. I started this a month ago, and I’m yet to complete the first one.” She laughs at herself, glancing down at her knobby fingers and flexing them a few times.

In one of my many daydreams involving Tirnanog, I find a powerful healer who uses their espiritu to alleviate Nana’s pain and maybe even cure her—not to mention help her live forever.

“Why can Amira only think negatively?” I find myself asking.

Nana narrows her brown eyes. “Negatively, you say?”

I nod.

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I would call it. Perhaps I would use a different word like… vigilantly.”

A frown cuts across my forehead at this.

“You see,” Nana goes on, “she’s like a parent now, and the citizens of Castella are her children.”

I have no idea where she’s going with this.

“You can’t deny that there are dangers in the realm—many of which can enter our path. The way children travel down the road is often careless, oblivious to strife and injury. Therefore, it’s a parent’s job to foresee these things for them. Hold them back before they fall into a pit. Pull their little hands away if they mean to touch the flame. Keep them from the morsel of food that might choke them. It’s only by anticipating what may happen that parents keep their children safe from harm.”

“I understand your analogy, Nana. I really do. But Amira is Castella’s Queen, not her mother. And its citizens aren’t her children. ”

“That may be so, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel protective of them, that doesn’t mean she isn’t trying to clear the path for them so they can live safe lives.”

“But what if she’s wrong?”

Nana inclines her head to one side. “I didn’t say she was right, my dear. I was simply trying to explain what might be driving her decisions, her negativity as you call it.”

“So you believe she’s wrong,” I ask hopefully.

“I didn’t say that either.”

My shoulders slump. Sometimes talking to Nana can be exhausting.

“I’m afraid, in this instance, only time will tell.”

“What if…” I don’t know how to ask this question, so I stop and stare at the floor.

Nana waits patiently for my thoughts to take shape. They don’t. I’m afraid to reveal my intentions to anyone. And what if she tells Amira?

Her rocker creeks as she begins to move gently back and forth. She picks up her knitting again, and the needles click together, a sound that I find soothing for some odd reason.

I think of the patter of rain, of sitting quietly waiting for the sun to drive away the gloomy weather—Mother, Nana, Amira, and I sitting by a cozy fire, all of our heads down, working on one project or another, the progress slow but deeply satisfying. I remember wanting for the rain to ebb, so I could go outside and play. Now, I long for nothing more than one of those afternoons with them.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as fate?” The question springs from my mouth fully formed, but uninvited.

“Do you?” she asks back.

“Um… I don’t know.”

“What does your heart tell you? ”

Leave it to Nana to throw my question back at me. I shrug. My heart, my gut, my brain… they all seem useless at the moment. I have no idea what to do.

“Well?” She presses.

I shake my head forcefully. “I really have no idea.”

She finally sets aside her work for good, placing it inside a woven basket sitting next to her chair. “I think it’s nonsense,” she answers, surprising me.

I peer at her curiously, waiting for more.

“Why would the saints put us in this realm so we can follow a path they already chose for us? It would only make for boredom for everyone, don’t you think?”

I smile despite myself. She’s only joking—not taking me seriously. I can’t blame her. She’s probably not in the mood for such a conversation. For a long while, Nana’s only pursuits have been peace and quiet. Her own words, not mine.

She winks. “Do you want to know what I truly believe?”

I nod.

“I think fate does govern the lives of some, though not all. But for certain individuals, it is destiny that matters.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” I frown, never having given much thought to the difference between the two.

She shakes her head. “Destiny is what we make of ourselves—not what someone else decides for us. A person with a purpose shapes their own path, taking actions that bend the trail toward their goal, their vision. However misguided your sister might be, she’s trying to shape Castella into what she thinks will be a better place.”

“But she isn’t only crafting her own destiny. She will affect so many people.”

“Those affected by her decisions believe it is their fate, and there lies the difference. ”

I push to the edge of the armchair. “The fae don’t have a choice, Nana.”

“There is always a choice.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Perhaps because you anticipate a choice between good and evil, but reality isn’t always so clear-cut. At times, our options are limited to the unfavorable, the extremely unfavorable, or the downright dreadful. Nonetheless, the choice remains.”

“What would be their other choice? Death? They’re already exiled, for all the gods’ sake! That isn’t fair.”

“I believe your father schooled you well on the fact that life and fairness are mutually exclusive.”

Indeed, he used those exact words. He said them often enough that even Nana can quote him.

“I believe you have a choice to make,” she says.

I blink, looking up at her and wondering if she suspects what the choice is. Her gaze pierces mine so intensely that I feel as naked and vulnerable as a babe. And even though her lips remain sealed, I sense her unspoken words echoing in the air.

“ Now, ni?a, will you be ruled by fate? Or will you forge your own destiny? ”