Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

45. CHAPTER 45

45

VALERIA

“Should something unfortunate happen to Valeria and Jago Plumanegra, my betrothed will become second in line to Castella’s throne. Ah, the wonders of the world!”

Don Justo Ramiro Medrano - Master Mason - 21 AV

“ H and the amulet over.” Don Justo extends a hand in my direction, still smirking.

Rage with the force of an earthquake courses up my body. I clench my teeth to stop me from trembling, to clear my mind and erase any thoughts of killing this bastardo on the spot. I have to make sure Jago is all right. I have to lay eyes on him, and then…

“Give me the amulet,” he repeats, a rumbling threat in his voice and a hand raised to grab me.

With a rumble in his own chest, Rífíor joins my side. “Touch her, and it will be the last thing you do.”

The ferocity in his voice makes Don Justo pause, though he doesn’t appear intimidated, only quizzical, like a good commander assessing the threats before deciding on the best course of action.

“If I don’t return promptly with the amulet,” Don Justo says, “my men have instructions to slit your cousin’s throat. ”

“Hijo de puta. Perro!” I curse him, dragging both him and his mother through the mud. “You will regret this.”

Don Justo tenses.

Reaching for The Eldrystone’s power, I think of Jago safe and sound. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I think it must have worked, but can I be sure without seeing it with my own eyes?

Bring him here. Now.

I wait for my cousin with his full head of tousled dirty blond hair and mischievous smile to appear in front of me, but only Don Justo’s frigid blue eyes stare back at me, while Jago’s warm honey-colored gaze remains absent.

With an almost imperceptible exhale of relief, Don Justo makes his demand once more. “Hand over the amulet, unless you don’t want to see your cousin’s insipid face again.”

I exchange a glance with Rífíor. I may not want him to have the amulet back, but Don Justo is an even more unpalatable choice. Still, I can’t risk Jago’s life.

Slowly, I reach for the chain around my neck.

Rífíor shakes his head. “Don’t,” he whispers.

I’m sorry.

I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud, but I’m genuinely sorry. I understand his desire to return to his home. I do. Many times, when he thinks I’m not looking, his dark gaze seems to go blank, the way Mother’s used to whenever she thought of Tirnanog. How many loved ones did he leave behind? How many nights, in the past twenty years, has he lay awake homesick and aching to set foot on his beloved realm?

Yes, I can nearly feel his pain. Yet, I have a duty to my own family, my own realm.

Sick with disgust, I pull the chain over my head and dangle the amulet in front of Don Justo .

Like a snake striking, Rífíor lifts a hand and attempts to take it from me. Just as he’s about to snatch it, an invisible force hits him squarely in the chest and he flies through the air, hits the ground, and skids to a stop ten feet away.

“No, you don’t!” Galen stands, dusting himself with one hand while with the other he shakes a finger at Rífíor as if at a naughty child. Quickly, he spares a look toward the amulet. A flash of surprise crosses his features, but it’s gone in an instant.

Rífíor sits up, looking dizzy. “You fucking—”

“Subdue him,” Don Justo orders his men.

Four guards run to Rífíor. Two point their rapiers at his neck while the other two proceed to tie him to a nearby tree.

I hesitate and nearly pull The Eldrystone back, but Do Justo quickly snatches it away. My heart lurches forward as I mourn its absence. Gleefully, I wait for the amulet to burn him, the way it did Amira, but he’s able to hold it without trouble.

Dammit! I was counting on his inability to handle it.

He turns it this way and that, examining it. His brow furrows as if he’s concentrating on something.

Gods! He’s trying to use it!

I brace myself for… I don’t know what… Rífíor’s and my sudden deaths?

As if from a distance, I hear the guards curse at Rífíor as he fights them. A cold breeze blows through the clearing, carrying the smoke from the bonfire. And an owl hoots somewhere deep in the forest.

Disappointment curdles Don Justo’s features as The Eldrystone vanishes into his jacket pocket with a flick of his wrist. My shoulders slump in quiet gratitude. I can only hope Niamhara is still on my side. Though, I inwardly curse her for allowing this turn of events. Whatever game she’s playing is far beyond my comprehension. I can’t rely on her. I have to ensure Jago’s safety and get the amulet back. I don’t know how I’ll accomplish either of those things, but I need to think of something. Quickly.

“Make camp,” Don Justo orders, rubbing the back of his neck. For the first time, I notice circles under his eyes. He must have traveled nonstop to catch up with us, and now that he has reached his goal, he suddenly appears exhausted. “You,” he points at a man wearing the Royal Guard uniform.

In fact, now that I pay closer attention, I realize they’re all members of Nido’s guard—the most highly trained and decorated graduates from the Academia de Guardias.

The young guard stops in front of Don Justo and salutes. “Yes, sir.”

Don Justo looks him up and down with indifference. “You’re in charge of the prisoners. Watch them at all times until I relieve you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Another salute, though his obedient expression falters as soon as Don Justo turns away. It’s clear he doesn’t like taking orders from someone who isn’t a superior, someone who never attended the academy. Regardless, he walks in my direction, rope in hand.

“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness, but…” he says, holding out the length of rope.

“I know you,” I say. “You’re Enrique.”

He was under Bastien’s command when we went to Alsur and fetched me when Rífíor locked my sister in her room. I shake my head, thinking of how strange it is to think of the same male as two different people. Actually three, now. Four if I consider I once thought of him as River. He’s worse than a chameleon.

“Yes, Princess Valeria,” Enrique says in a whisper. “I don’t want to tie you down, but I have to.” He glances uneasily over his shoulder.

I blink at the guard. He has no idea I wasn’t shaking my head at him, but at my foolish thoughts. “It’s all right, Enrique. I know you’re following orders.” I hold my wrists out .

Without touching me, he guides me toward the tree next to Rífíor’s.

“Let me know if the rope hurts your wrists too much,” Enrique says apologetically as he bids me sit at the base of the tree and begins to secure the rope. He’s gentle, tightening the rope just enough to impede any slippage.

As he leans closer to test his knots, I ask. “How’s my cousin?”

A frown cuts across his forehead, and he’s quiet for an instant, then he says, “He’s fine.”

“Where?” I ask in a rush of breath.

“He—”

“No talking to the prisoners,” Don Justo’s voice booms across the clearing, causing Enrique to hurry and quickly move away to stand off to the side. He clicks his heels, back as straight as his rapier.

I sigh, trying to be grateful. Jago is safe. Now, I just have to figure out how I’ll get out of this tight spot. Surreptitiously, I peer up at Enrique. Perhaps he will help me.

Biding my time, I watch as guards mill about setting up a tent and avoiding Calierin’s frozen shape in the middle of the clearing. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.