House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

5. CHAPTER 5

5

VALERIA

“Creatures with pointed ears are at my doorstep. They must be devils, even if they look like angels.”

Juan Anguiano - Castellan Farmer - 1 DV

F ive minutes later, I slip through a side door of the petitioner’s hall and search for my sister. She stands by the throne-like chair by the dais, getting ready to listen to grievances from Castellina’s denizens. Emerito Velez, her royal counselor, stands by the door, waiting for her signal to start letting people in. Father and Amira take turns listening to petitioners once a month. I’ve asked them to let me help, but they told me the people would feel slighted if they sent me . I don’t think they intended to make me feel irrelevant, but well… they did.

I march in her direction, grab her arm, and pull her aside.

“Did you, by any chance, instruct him to be an asshole?” I glance toward my assigned guard, who followed me in here but had the decency to stay by the door.

Amira frowns.

“Never mind.” I cross my arms. “I don’t want him.”

“We’ve been over this.” She glances toward the main door where Emerito waves impatiently .

“I don’t want him nor need him,” I insist.

“Take it up with Father. Look, I’m busy. Is there anything else you need?”

I sigh. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him. He won’t even tell me his name.”

“His name is Bastien Mora. You’ve never seen him because he just graduated from the Academia de Guardias. He comes with the highest recommendation from General Cuenca, who always sends his best recruits to the Guardia Real. Guardia Bastien is said to follow orders quietly, and be shrewd with the sword. Now, I really need to get started.” She gestures toward the door where Emerito wears that annoyed expression that he displays like an emblem. He tugs his long beard for good measure.

I give her a pleading look.

She shakes her head.

My eyebrows draw together, and the question I really want to ask prickles at the tip of my tongue. I want to fling it forward like a slap.

What secrets are you and Father keeping from me?!

But this would be the worst time to ask. She has no time to answer. Feeling defeated, I pivot to walk away.

“Val,” Amira calls.

I glance back.

“Spar later?”

I want to say no to be petty and hurt her feelings, but this is not her fault. I have no one else to blame but myself. I have been acting like a child, though not in the way Father means it. I have been allowing him to order me around as if I were not entitled to my own volition, as if he’s the only one who knows what is best for me. But that job doesn’t belong to him. Not anymore, and it is time I let him know that, even if it breaks his heart.

“Yes. I’d love to spar,” I say .

There might be more than swords involved this time, but I don’t tell her that.

With a loud croak, Cuervo lowers his head, gesturing toward the apple in my hand.

“You ate yours already, you glutton.” I use my dagger to cut a slice and stuff the piece in my mouth. It’s sweet and tart at the same time.

“Glutton,” he repeats, eying me this time.

“But the nerve! Who feeds you, huh?”

He hops from one talon to the other and stretches out his wings. “Val. Val. Val.”

“That’s right. So hush your beak or I’ll make quills from all your feathers.”

At the threat, he flies from the parapet up to a perch staked to the ground.

We’re in one of the east rooftop courtyards, waiting for Amira. There is a sparring area here, which we prefer, surrounded by small trees and flowerbeds full of rose and jasmine bushes. We are over one hundred feet off the ground, four stories of solid rock below us, and Castellina sprawls like a tapestry all around, its fringes ragged in the patchwork landscape. Nido is so massive that when I stand up here, I feel like a single blade of grass in a vast meadow, like a tiny bee inside a massive hive.

All around the courtyard, the parapets possess a repeating design that resembles Cuervo’s perch. Father says that when he was young, he would shift, land on those perches, then propel himself into the open sky. Hours later, after soaring high above the city, he would return, feeling exhausted and exuberantly alive .

“I wish you could know how it feels, mis amores, ” he would tell Amira and me while we listened in awe, mourning the espiritu we should have inherited from him.

I yearn to fly. I do so in my dreams as if my body craves it, and it feels like the pain of a missing limb.

At this hour, the sun shines gently, and a summer breeze blows through the bushes, rustling their leaves. The air is like a warm caress, and it’s times like this I thank the gods I’m not the firstborn, and the job to govern falls to Amira.

She’s late again, and I’m starting to wonder if she will come at all. Whenever we spar, we always do it at seventeen hours to avoid the heat of the day. I decided to postpone talking to Father until tonight. It’s not something I look forward to.

Guardia Bastien Mora stands off to the side, peering curiously at Cuervo, his harsh expression showing the first sign of any emotion. For a second, I think he’s going to ask me about the bird, but then he goes back to looking like one of the saint statues at the Basilica de Castellina, stiff and polished. He would probably be one of those saints who are supposed to protect you like San Miguel or San Benedicto.

I’m curious to know if he perceives himself in that way, one of the devout adherents of the principal Castellan religion. Some of its members can be quite unbearable. Fortunately, following the arrival of Los Moros and the fae and their respective faiths, Castella now embraces religious freedom, allowing us to worship whichever deities we choose.

For my part, I prefer the fae gods Mother taught me about. I like the idea of multiple gods, all of them walking among us.

“I found Cuervo at the Realta Observatory a few years ago,” I say, deciding to be friendly.

Like Amira, he’s not to blame for any of this. It must be frustrating for him to be among the top new recruits and yet be tasked with guarding what he likely considers a pampered princess .

Even though he shows no sign of interest, I keep going.

“He was hurt, so I brought him home and repaired his wing. I thought he would fly away once he was healthy, but he stayed.”

Guardia Bastien keeps up with his impersonation of a stiff wooden saint. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His black hair is combed back perfectly and shines like Cuervo’s feathers. I must admit, besides his stiff pose, there’s nothing saintly about him. He is very handsome, and his full lips spell sin with a capital “S”. Then there are his cheekbones and jaw. They’re sharp, likely responsible for cutting more than one innocent hand attempting to trace their beauty. Blood was spilled, I’m sure. And those eyes, even though they seem empty as they stare straight ahead, their deep black is bottomless, able to draw a weak soul in with the purpose of never letting it go.

I glance down and smile at the ground as I cut another slice of apple.

“Guess who’s not a saint, Cuervo?” I whisper. “Me.”

I’m already imagining the poor guard naked. I’m even wondering if his chest is hairy or smooth. Not that I’ve ever lain with a man. I’m supposed to remain a chaste princess, but Nido has libraries. Plenty of them. And some of their books don’t spare any detail.

“Saints and feathers,” Cuervo croaks.

Sighing, I stand and offer Cuervo my last piece of apple. “ Tch, ” I click my tongue, and he takes it with one talon and bites a piece off.

I unsheathe my rapier and examine the blade.

“It’s just you and me, buddy.” I then point the tip of my rapier at Guardia Corpse. “You don’t count because you’re practically invisible.”

Steps sound on the stairs that lead down from the small, adjoining armory. I turn and see Amira taking two down at a time, hurrying to meet me. I smile as her brown hair bounces on her shoulder, her cheeks flushed. She’s wearing a dress, not her sparring gear like me.

“Late. Late. Late,” Cuervo croaks .

“Shut up, you infernal raven.” Amira comes to a stop in front of me and places a hand on her stomach as she catches her breath.

“Hey, it’s not Cuervo’s fault your tardiness has become a habit.”

“It’s not my fault either.”

“Debatable.”

“There were more petitioners than normal.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re wearing a dress.”

“I’m well aware, but it’s not a problem. I can beat you just the same.”

“Unless you’re hiding your rapier under your skirt, you can’t.” She didn’t even think to grab a weapon as she crossed the armory.

She glances around and spots my guard. “You, give me your rapier.”

Guardia Bastien frowns, but he hands over the sword after a beat.

His rapier is a standard issue, but it looks like he takes good care of it. Its sharp edge glints in the sun. Amira takes up her stance and immediately lunges, stepping quickly across the cobblestones. Viciously, she aims for my throat. I step back, parrying aside the rapid attack, then respond with one of my own.

Our blades sing, the sunlight gleaming off our narrow blades. Amira drives me toward the edge of the courtyard. She can beat me by steering me out of bounds of our predefined enclosure. I make use of my footwork to find my way back to the safe zone. General Cuenca taught us both, though he was only a Teniente Coronel when he still had time for us. The only reason Amira is slightly better than me is because she’s older and had more time with our teacher.

Cuervo croaks. “Liquefy her.”

Amira gasps. “You’ve been telling Cuervo you’re going to liquefy me? I’m hurt.”

Damn bird! Always repeating everything I say.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I say.

We feint, parry, lunge, and strike like a set of twins. We dance past each other, sweat in our eyes. The red sash around her waist slashes through the air as she twirls. The sharp blade glints in the sun once more as she tips it. Its spark blinds me, and as I blink, she sticks the tip of her rapier under my knuckle guard, jerks her hand to one side, and disarms me. My rapier flies off and embeds itself in the soft ground of a flowerbed, not before slicing a few red roses to shreds.

I curse. “Puta madre!”

“Language, Valeria.” She retrieves my rapier and hands it back. “I told you the dress would be no obstacle.”

I smirk without humor and sheathe my rapier. I want to confront her about the secret Father confided in her, but she looks tired and in need of some peace, so I let it go. For now. I shake my head, realizing that it’s the second time someone hands me my ass today. I need a win.

Perhaps, I’ll get it with Father.