Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

47. CHAPTER 47

47

VALERIA

“It is time to cross to the Glimmer and leave my burdens behind. I am glad my son is strong enough to inherit them.”

Faolan Theric - King of Tirnanog - 1879 DV

M y shoulders hurt. I push with my feet to get closer to the tree trunk. It relieves some of the pressure.

Rífíor sits quietly, lost in thought. I avoid his gaze and focus on the activity around us, the guards sitting by the fire they built. They’re preparing food, some looking pleased their mission is over, others casting glances this way. Do they wonder why I’ve betrayed my sister? Do they care?

For the first time, I realize this is a different group of guards than the ones we encountered a few days ago. I don’t remember all of them, but I’m sure Teniente Coronel Eva Toromayor is not here.

“Enrique,” I say, glancing sideways at my guard, “what happened to the first group of guards that was sent after us? They were led by a woman, Teniente Coronel Toromayor.”

He seems reluctant to answer my question, but after a moment, he says, “They are… statues, Your Royal Highness.” There is accusation in his voice, though he tries to hide it .

Lowering my head, I press my lips together to stifle a sob. I’d hoped Galen had undone the spell for everyone, but maybe he was only able to save himself.

One careless thought, and I killed them.

Perhaps it’s for the best I don’t have The Eldrystone anymore.

“I would rather you have it,” Rífíor says in a barely audible voice, as if he has read my mind, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“I killed all those people.”

He nods once, acknowledging what I did, not dismissing it. “It was an accident. The amulet is powerful. You have much to learn.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words jumping from my mouth before I can stop them.

Rífíor’s gaze darts my way. He frowns. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t I?” I blow air through my nose, feeling disappointed in myself, my anger toward him quickly souring into regret. “I told you I would help you reopen the veil. Now, I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do anymore. I don’t make a habit of going back on my word.”

He looks pained at my apology, as if he realizes all his wrongs outdo mine, and he’s the one who owes me not only an apology, but an overdue explanation.

Taking a deep inhale as if to draw strength from the air, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Pardon me, Princess Valeria,” Enrique interrupts. “It’s not that I’m eavesdropping—I don’t really have a choice—but is it true that you planned to re-open the veil?” His tone is cautious and hushed.

I nod.

“It really is possible?” He insists.

“Yes.” I’ve never felt so certain, which is stupid since I don’t even have The Eldrystone with me anymore.

He appears troubled by my answer .

“What is it, Enrique?”

Uncertainty etches his features.

“You can trust me,” I say. “Please… what’s on your mind?”

His uncertainty morphs to concern, and deep worry lines form across his forehead. After a moment’s hesitation, he takes a few sideway steps, coming closer. His back is ramrod straight, and he stares ahead, the perfect picture of a Guardia Real.

“I was born in Castellina,” he says. “On the west side.”

He lets that sink in. The west side is the poorest area of the city.

“Growing up, my best friends were fae,” he goes on. “They are good people and, pardon me for saying this, but they don’t deserve what your sister is doing to them.”

A knot forms in my throat, and next to me, Rífíor releases a breath along with a deep sound of anger rumbling in the back of his throat.

“What… has happened?” I ask, terrified of the answer.

“I’ve always been proud to be a Castellan, but after what I witnessed… Well, I don’t feel so good about it anymore.”

Tears prick the back of my eyes. Oh, Amira! I fear what she has become, fear she will never be the same again.

“Keep going, Enrique,” I say because I need to hear this, and Rífíor does, too.

“The queen sent Castellina’s Guardia in the middle of the night. They pulled fae folk from their beds at sword point, even children, all of them born in Castella. Those who dared resist were cut down without mercy. I don’t know how many were killed.”

A strangled gasp escapes me, and I don’t dare glance at Rífíor.

“They emptied the old Monasterio de San Corvus de la Corona,” he continues, “herded them there like cattle, and locked them up. They call the place La Haderia now. They’re offering gold—a reward for those willing to point a finger at their fae neighbors who ran and hid. ”

We’re quiet for a long time. Horrible images dance before my eyes: brutal hands shoving people out of their homes, terrified cries echoing in the night, the glint of steel cutting down parents as they try to protect their children. It’s a nightmare.

“I’m sorry, Princess Valeria,” Enrique clears his throat, “but I thought we were better than that.” A pause. “I kept wondering why the queen sent us after you, but I understand now. You oppose her.” It’s not a question, but a statement that I don’t need to confirm.

Enrique cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, as if working up resolve. Setting his jaw, he pulls his dagger from his belt, crouches, and saws at the rope that binds me.

“Open the veil, Princess Valeria,” he says. “I will help you.”

The tension around my shoulders gives, and my wrists are blessedly free.

“Thank you, Enrique,” I say.

He smiles sadly, then his eyes widen as someone wraps an arm around his neck and drags him back, pulling him into the darkness of the trees behind us. I scramble backwards, kicking, and nearly end up on Rífíor’s lap. He struggles to get free, alert to the danger. Panic snaps down my spine as a figure moves in the dark, approaching.

“Boo!” Jago says in a mock whisper as he peeks from around the trunk.

I nearly jump out of my skin from relief. My teeth clamp down on my lower lip, stifling a cry of joy. Quickly, he proceeds to cut Rífíor’s rope.

When he’s done, I wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re all right!”

“It was the damndest thing,” my cousin says. “My handcuffs just came undone, the wagon’s door sprang open, and no one was watching. I practically strolled out of the camp.”

“The guard.” I peer with concern into the dark.

“He’s fine. He might wake up with a headache, though,” Jago says. “Here, take his rapier. ”

“This is a very pleasant reunion,” Rífíor says, “but we best get moving before they notice us.”

Just as he finishes saying this, one of the guards by the fire does just that. He jumps to his feet, going for his rapier and sounding the alarm. “The prisoners are escaping!”

With the knowledge that my cousin is safe, I lunge into an offensive attack, meeting the first guard as he charges. Our rapiers meet, the metal singing. I shuffle to the side and jab again. He parries the move, offering no counterattack. He seems hesitant, unsure of whether or not he’s allowed to stab the princess. That’s his mistake. I don’t hesitate. A quick thrust of my blade finds its mark, slipping through the intricate guard of his rapier. With a flick of my wrist, his weapon spins away, clattering to the ground.

Four more guards charge. Jago faces one, and I another. The other two go for Rífíor who is unarmed. I thrust and parry, barely keeping my opponent at bay. My attention is split, drifting to Rífíor, who is outnumbered. Though my worry is misplaced because he easily disarms one of the guards, slamming him head-first into a tree, then deflecting the second guard’s blade right before it slices open his middle.

The three of us defeat our opponents in unison. I’m careful not to deliver a killing blow, and I’m gratified to see that even Rífíor refrains from such violence.

More guards are running in our direction. Don Justo is now out of his tent, screaming orders. There are over a dozen guards and only three of us.

“Let’s get out of here!” Jago grabs my arm and pulls me toward town.

I hesitate. We need to get The Eldrystone back, but we won’t be able to do that if we let them capture us again. Rífíor also hesitates, but in the end, he nods, agreeing with Jago. Running at full pelt, we disappear under the trees’ shadows .

“Catch them!” Don Justo shouts, his angry voice cutting through the night.

We run, Rífíor guiding the way and urging us to go faster. He finds a clear route, taking us across town, weaving in and out of allies until we reach the burnt remnants of a building. No one roams the streets, the celebrations surely cut short by the presence of the Guardia Real and the ensuing commotion.

With the senses of a burrowing creature, Rífíor spots a passage between charred and fallen logs. Nearly crawling, he enters the battered structure. Moonlight easily seeps through the cracks, illuminating our way. With Jago quick on my heels, I go in, fearing the wreckage will collapse atop our heads. Rífíor finds a set of steps that lead us down to a musty cellar, which remains fairly untouched by the inferno that devoured the building’s flesh and left only scorched, broken bones.

Our agitated breaths are loud in the cramped space. We sit still for several long moments, listening for signs of pursuit. We hear running footsteps and voices around us. Someone takes a close look at the ruins, then announces it’s all clear, which feels like a miracle. The noise dies down by degrees until we’re left in utter silent.

Jago heaves a sigh. “It’s been quite a day. What about you two?”

Neither Rífíor nor I say anything.

“That good, huh?”

Rífíor grunts.

“As talkative as ever.” Jago shakes his head, a strand of blond hair shining in a stray ray of moonlight. He peers at me, his honey-colored eyes nearly black. “I’m so relieved you’re all right.” Reaching across the space, he squeezes my shoulder.

“Me, too. Don Justo threatened to hurt you if I didn’t give him The Eldrystone. I used it to wish you to safety, but I didn’t know if it’d worked. ”

He nods slowly and deliberately. “So that’s what happened. Makes sense. Thank you for not selling me out. It’s nice to see I’m still worth more than that damnable jewel to someone.”

“Of course, you are,” I say. “You’re my favorite cousin.”

We both laugh, our amusement laced with nerves.

“What about the troop? And Cuervo?” I ask.

Jago grins. “They’re here. After you left us, Esmeralda and I made quick work of the couple of guards who stayed back to watch over us. We figured we should continue on and ran into… an interesting sculpture display.”

I’m mortified by the comment, and it’s hard not to let in the image of all those petrified faces staring blankly into nothingness.

“I thought you might rejoin us,” Jago continues, unaware of my internal conflict, “but when you didn’t, it was clear you’d also continued on. Your bird drove me crazy, by the way. He kept asking where his friend was. He flew ahead several times, and I thought he wouldn’t return, but he did. At any rate, we got here late last night and camped right outside of town. I was asking around if anyone had seen a pretty princess and three grumpy fae, when Don Justo spotted me and put me in chains.” Jago nods at the grumpy fae present and gives him a salute.

“We need to get the amulet back,” Rífíor says. “I will go. You two stay here.” He moves to leave.

I grab his wrist. “Wait! We need a plan. We can work together.”

He looks down at my hand.

I let him go. He’s so close, his shoulder only an inch from mine. I feel the heat radiating from him and shiver as his dark eyes rove over my face.

“I can easily evade anyone patrolling the city,” he says, his deep voice traveling over my skin making the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. “I can track Don Justo, isolate him, and—”

The rubble above us groans, ashes and small pieces of debris raining down on our heads .

“Shit!” Jago exclaims. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Rífíor arches his body over mine and pushes me toward the exit. We scramble like rats, ashes stinging our eyes and clogging our noses. The air itself seems to groan under the weight of the collapsing building. I squeeze my eyes shut, picturing the heavy wooden beams pinning us like insects. Then something shifts, a disturbance that seems out of place. I peek with one eye and watch as the blackened skeleton lifts up and floats away, the silver light of the moon splitting the darkness, exposing us.

A dark figure stands above us, one hand lifted toward the hovering pile of rubble, red espiritu flowing from his fingers.

Galen huffs. “Well, don’t just sit there gaping at me. Hurry!”