Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

24. CHAPTER 24

24

VALERIA

“Would to the gods I had never met you, Saethara!”

Rífíor - Veilfallen - 21 AV

L ater, as I make preparations to leave, I run into Amira and Renata. Though I try to relax, I stiffen as they approach. It takes a big effort to put on a smile when we meet in the middle of the hall.

“I was told the Romani were here,” my sister says. “Did they agree to help us find the veilfallen’s new hiding place?”

I swallow thickly before responding. Lying to my sister doesn’t come easy. “They… did. They’ll let us know right away if they discover their location.”

“Excellent. I will see you later. I have some matters to attend to.” She and Renata make their way down the corridor, barely concerned with me.

I keep going and glance over my shoulder as they turn down a passage that leads to the vault. My heart skips a beat.

The vault is not the only thing in that direction, Val.

There’s no reason for Amira to retrieve The Eldrystone—not when she can’t wield it, not when her hand is still wrapped in a bandage. I have to repeat the same mantra several times until I believe it. I’m tempted to follow them to make sure I’m safe, but I have too much to do.

Over the next hour, I go about with my heart in my throat. I expect to see guards charging in my direction with orders from Amira to apprehend me. But once a suitable amount of time passes after our encounter, I relax. It’s only then that my hands grow steady as I gather rope, a tinderbox, and other things for our packs. It is only then that I can return to my bedchamber to go over my plan one more time.

One important piece of the puzzle is for me to talk to Cuervo and get him to understand that tonight, we will be leaving Castellina. One thing that weighs heavily on me is that Father hasn’t had a proper funeral.

Forgive me, Father .

He would disapprove terribly of what I’m about to do. He would want me to stand behind my sister, no matter what. But I also know that Mother would feel differently. I have a duty to her, too. It’s no easy task, but I push these worries away and focus on the path ahead.

A few times I’m tempted to ask Cuervo to retrieve the amulet, but in the end, I decide against the idea. It’s too risky to carry the jewel with me as we exit Nido. We might be discovered as we make our escape, and Amira might take it back. There’s also the possibility that Rífíor might see it and be tempted by it. He gave it up before, but time in a cell might have changed his mind about that.

No, I need to keep The Eldrystone away from him for as long as possible.

When I call Cuervo, he flies around in circles sweeping over Nido’s battlements above me. From a distance, we must look like nothing but grains of rice atop a huge gray mountain to him. The palace’s sheer size is a testament to the Plumanegra’s power and wealth. It took over a century to build this place, to mine the huge rocks and transport them here, to place them atop each other and shape them into what they are now: the most massive building in the entire realm .

At last, my friend alights upon the balcony railing. His ebony feathers glisten in the fading sunlight, displaying iridescent hues of blue and purple that surpass any painter’s palette. He skips from talon to talon, head bobbing.

“We travel tonight,” I tell him.

We’ve traveled many times, so he knows what this means. His wings spread wide as he flaps them a few times. He hovers over the railing for an instant. It’s his way of telling me he’s excited about the news.

“Make sure to follow me,” I say.

I know he’ll vigilantly watch the palace’s perimeter to make sure he doesn’t overlook my departure.

“One more thing, Cuervo. You have to bring the treasure with you. Do you understand?”

He inclines his beak, and it touches his chest as he bows. He understands.

“But keep it safe.” He can hide it when he’s not flying and following us. “Safe, do you understand?”

Once more, he bows.

“You are the best of friends, Cuervo.” I bow back, feeling the utmost respect for him.

Sometime after midnight, I quickly make it to the dimly illuminated steps that lead to Rífíor and, perhaps, my doom.

When I get to the bottom, I discover both guards on duty peacefully asleep, just as intended. A part of my plan entailed discreetly administering a sedative into their evening meal, a job well done by Jago. He knows the young woman responsible for distributing dinner to numerous guards throughout the palace—they had a fling at some point. Jago’s role involved intercepting her en route to the dungeons and engaging her in conversation to divert her attention while he slipped the soporific into the food .

I remove the keys to the cell from the hook on the wall and walk sideways between the two slumped guards. They snore and appear content and lost in pretty dreams. I mean to keep walking with firm steps, but I come to a sudden halt, my breaths growing rapid and my heart hammering behind my ribs. I hate that the thought of seeing him makes me feel this way. I hate that I need him in order to do this. I want to leave him behind bars to rot for all his crimes, including those against me.

After a few deep breaths, I get my emotions under control and keep going. Even though I walk lightly, my steps echo across the cavernous space, surely alerting Rífíor to the presence of an untimely visitor. Yet, when I appear, he makes no attempt to glance in my direction.

He still looks like a literal statue, sitting motionless in that way that only the fae can. In the dim light, with all the colors muted, it truly appears as if he’s made of stone, an imposing sculpture chiseled by a master. The sight is unnerving and sends a shiver running down my spine.

My hand is firm as I place the key to the lock, turn it, and pull the door open. Rusted hinges whine, setting my teeth on edge. In fact, my entire body is on edge. I wrap my hand around the hilt of the raven dagger at my belt.

“You’re coming with me,” I say.

No reaction. He simply stares at the wall across from him.

I know I have to say something to shock him out of his stupor, something to rattle what he thinks he knows. Otherwise, we’ll sit here all night.

“I need your help to reopen the veil,” I speak the words quickly, enunciating every syllable to make sure he hears me correctly.

I wasn’t wrong. I get a reaction right away. His head turns slowly, the surprise in his expression undeniable .

Moving like a mountain waking up from a dream, he rises to his feet and takes two long steps to the threshold. There, he stops, his inscrutable black eyes fixed on mine.

First, he scans my face, and next the area around my neck. I know he’s searching for The Eldrystone. I wonder if solitude has renewed his desire to possess it. Nothing in his features tells me one way or the other.

“Why?” he asks simply, his deep voice a rumble that skitters over my skin and makes me think of whispered words...

Lies.

“I don’t have time to discuss that,” I say. “All you need to do is come with me.” I extend a hand, inviting him to walk down the hall.

He glances in that direction, and I look at his profile. It’s made of sharp dark shadows and cruelty. Slowly, he turns to look at me to appraise me once more. His nostrils flare as a million thoughts seem to cross behind the barrier of his eyes. I can’t fathom any of them. He’s worse than a blank canvas. He’s the deep darkness between the stars. Unreadable.

After a moment’s thought, he says, “You really intend to do this.”

It’s a statement, not a question, so I offer him no reply. If he remembers anything about me, I hope his memories are of a woman who isn’t afraid to act when necessary.

He stands there a little longer, and I want to ask him if he thinks it’ll be possible to reopen the veil, but I hold the words back. If he says it is, I won’t believe him, anyway. That’s the only answer that will get him out of here, after all, so he might lie in order to go free. Even with that knowledge, however, I know I would embark on this journey and hold on to whatever hope he offers me. Any kind of hope is better than the nightmare in Amira’s plans.

With a flick of his eyes, he glances down at the dagger and my hand wrapped around its hilt. Not too long ago, he and I fought on Nido’s rooftop, and I bested him. The difference was he was pretending to be human. Now that I know he’s Fae, that he’s Rífíor of the Veilfallen, I realize I wouldn’t stand a chance against his speed. The threat of my weapon means nothing. If I take him on this journey, it won’t be at the point of a dagger. He’ll come of his own accord and do everything in his power to make my goal a reality. Returning to Tirnanog is what he wants most in the world, after all.

I let my hand drop, and I would be lying if I said I don’t feel as vulnerable as a child in front of a rabid wolf.

One of his dark, perfect eyebrows goes up as he stares at my now-empty fingers. Without blinking, I lift my chin to show him I’m not afraid of him. Yes, I know he would best me in a fight, but I wouldn’t shy away. I would make sure to leave my mark—maybe one to match the scar in his right eye.

“As I told you, I didn’t close the veil. Your mother did,” he says, “so I don’t exactly know how to reopen it.”

Something about the evenness of his tone makes it sound like the truth, but that only means he’s a good liar. The best.

“But The Eldrystone can be used to reconnect our realms, correct?” I ask.

He nods without hesitation, a lock of midnight black hair falling forward. “Yes.”

“And you know exactly where to go?”

“Yes.”

“Then we must go. Here,” I remove the cloak I’m wearing, “put this on and let’s get out of here.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Like I said… no time for explanations.”

He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he might remain at the threshold, unsure and maybe even afraid. But at last, he takes the cloak, throws it over his shoulders, and follows me.

Giving a cursory glance at the guards, we walk out of the dungeons. At this hour, Nido sleeps, and few walk the corridors. Those who do are guards, and we’re careful to avoid them. I know the palace better than anyone, so it’s easy to find the right hiding spot to escape their notice.

We’re in the process of crossing a wide vestibule into the west wing when Rífíor suddenly stops, cocking his head to one side and listening.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Steps. Many.”

His fae hearing is sharper than mine, but it only takes a couple of beats for me to notice what he’s talking about.

Shit!

So many marching steps—which I immediately recognize as the Guardia Real—aren’t common at this time of night. Someone, or more precisely, numerous someones are headed in our direction.