House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

13. CHAPTER 13

13

VALERIA

“The fae healer will be here soon, my dear. Just hold on a little longer. Please, please, do not fall asleep.”

Conde Ricardo Luna y Figueroa - Conde de Mursiya - 725 DV

L ater that night, I put on a valiant performance. Around twenty-two hours, I drape a robe over my nightgown and walk out of my bedchamber. The youngest of the guards stands in the hall, looking bored. He straightens when he sees me and acts as if he hadn’t been about to fall asleep on his feet. He blinks large green eyes and twitches his thin mustache.

I give him a bleary-eyed look. “Can’t sleep,” I say, then head down the corridor.

“You shouldn’t leave your bedchamber, prin—” he cuts himself short, then adds, “se?orita.”

I keep walking. “Why not?”

Guards are used to following orders without questions, so I take advantage of that to stall him.

“Um… because of your safety,” he stammers.

When I glance back, I find him checking out my butt. His eyes quickly snap to mine. He clears his throat .

“Am I not perfectly safe in your presence?” I asked with a suggestive smile.

Now, he’s not only confused but also flustered. Of course, he thinks I’m safe in his presence, but letting me go anywhere means breaking those unquestionable orders.

“I need some milk with a little honey, prepared just the way I like it. Not too sweet, not too plain,” I say with a coy smile. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, I need a good night of sleep if I’m to survive the rest of the journey.”

I can see the moment he decides there is no harm in letting the poor princess get what she needs. His eyes soften, and a smile stretches his lips. He seems nice, and I like him for that. None of this is his fault. He’s just doing what he’s supposed to do.

We go downstairs, and as soon as I’m noticed, all conversations come to an abrupt stop. Every person—each a man—turns to look at me. Their expressions seem to indicate they’ve never seen a woman in a robe, no matter how decent.

I don’t allow the crude stares to stop me. In Nido, I got used to them soon after I grew breasts. Every derelict, arthritic council member suddenly realized that I existed and subjected me to their filthy inspection every time they thought no one was paying attention.

Sashaying, I make my way to the counter in the back of the room, the young guard following behind. Before I make it there, Bastien gets up from his corner table and intercepts my path.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

“That’s the most perceptive thing you’ve ever said.” I walk around him. “I should be in Nido, attending my father’s funeral.” My voice almost breaks at this, but I’m able to swallow the lump in my throat, hardening my facade.

“Get back to your room.”

“Not until I get some milk.” I reach the counter and give the owner a smile. “I can’t sleep, and I thought some milk and honey might help.”

“Of course, my dear,” the man replies. “We’ll get it right away.” He instructs one of his helpers to get it done.

Behind me, Bastien chastises the young guard. “Weren’t my instructions clear?”

“Yes, sir, but she insisted,” he stammers, his expression fraught with panic.

A pang of guilt courses through me for putting him in this position, but I must ensure the image of me in my nightclothes is etched firmly in Bastien’s mind.

See, I’m not trying to escape. I’m going to bed , I’m trying to say to him.

Also, if he believes this is my way of assessing the situation and planning an escape through the front door, he’ll be less likely to figure out my real scheme.

“If you can’t follow simple orders, perhaps your sole duty should be mucking the horses,” Bastien spits.

“What was I supposed to do?” the young guard asks. “Deck her?”

“Not a bad idea,” Bastien sneers.

I’d like to see him try.

“Get back to your room,” he orders again.

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere until I get my milk.”

His eyes narrow, and his jaw ticks with irritation.

The inn owner regards us with curiosity, and Bastien seems to think better of making a scene. He wouldn’t want to give anyone the impression that I’m being manhandled and forced to do things against my will.

While I wait, I glance around the room. Several of the guards traveling in our party sit there, nursing tankards. Their attention is still focused on me, though they are doing a very good job at pretending it isn’t. I make a head count. Three of our guards are missing. That means they are outside, keeping watch. I imagine one guarding the front door, another one stationed in the back, and the last watching the horses. Three against two, not bad odds.

The helper returns with my milk, and the owner takes it and offers it to me. I cradle the heavy mug in my hands, enjoying the warmth and the scent of cinnamon and honey wafting from the delicious treat. I smile, then take a sip and let out an involuntary moan.

“Wonderful. Just how I like it. I thank you, kind se?or.”

“You’re welcome, se?orita.”

Without a word to the others, I head upstairs. I’m tempted to say my soothing drink will help me sleep like a babe, but that would only make Bastien more suspicious. I’m also tempted to visit Jago’s chamber to tell him how many guards are outside, but I’m sure he already made his own perusal. He knows the plan as well as I do.

Back in my room, I drink the milk. It’s too rich and delicious to let it go to waste. I don’t rest my head on the pillow though, lest the drink has its intended effect. Instead, I occupy myself with packing a bundle, using one of my tunics as a makeshift rucksack. It wouldn’t do to escape completely empty-handed.

Before midnight, I peek through the curtains. After a few minutes, a guard paces into view. Without any pretense of subtlety, I throw the window open. He startles, but I do my best to ignore him and fan myself as if overheated. I can feel his eyes fixed on my delicate nightgown, its slender straps and plunging neckline. He will be lucky if his eyes don’t fall out of their sockets.

Men! So easy to distract.

I pull away from view, leaving the window open. I’m not about to try to escape just yet. Besides, it’s not time, so I sit at the edge of the bed and wait.

Thoughts of my parents assault me. I miss them so much. My sorrow quickly turns to rage as I think of Orys. He paid for Mother’s death with his disfigurement. He will pay for Father’s death with his life. I will make sure of it.

And Amira? Oh, Amira. If she is doing this of her own volition, it means I never knew her. And if she isn’t, she will be devastated when she wakes up from the spell. That’s if she isn’t already suffering, trapped inside her own mind.

Gods! My heart hurts.

Shaking my arms, I stand up, change out of my nightgown, and throw it on the bed. I won’t be needing such garments where I’m going. I attire myself in comfortable clothes and search through my luggage for the dagger and thigh strap I stored there, but they’re gone. Damn them! They went through my luggage even after it was initially packed. Father gave me that dagger. They have no right. I stew for a long time, doing my best to control my emotions.

At last, it’s time to go. The loud ruckus I hear in the distance is my sign. Cuervo is at the front door, doing his job of creating a distraction. His croaks are surely loud and obnoxious when he wants them to be.

I approach the window as silent as a cat. I don’t see the guard and hope his attention is diverted by the commotion.

With my improvised rucksack tied to my back, I fling my legs over the windowsill and step carefully onto the ridge of the roof. The red-stained clay tiles aren’t the best surface to walk on, but they seem stable enough. My steps are tentative at first, then more confident as the tiles hold. Hands out to my sides for balance, I hurry across the way on tiptoes. When I get to the other side, I stop, trying my best to ignore my heart’s pounding rhythm.

I dare a glance down and around. I still don’t see the guard, but I see Jago.

He’s waiting for me in the shadows of the stables, his shape barely noticeable. He’s mounted on his horse and has Furia with him. A smile stretches my lips. All I have to do is get down from here, run across the backyard, mount my mare, and we’ll be on our way back to Castellina.

There is a tree close to the building. Shimmying down the sloped roof, I make it there. I locate a branch thick enough to support my weight, then jump and take hold of it. My hands hurt from the rough bark, but not too much. I have good calluses from sparring practice. Finding the right handholds and footholds, I make my way down to the ground and land in a crouch without a sound.

I stay there for a long moment, one hand on the moist ground as I watch for the guard. He’s nowhere in sight. When I’m sure he’s not coming, I cut across the yard, feet as light as Cuervo’s feathers.

“Good job,” Jago whispers.

“I think it’s Cuervo you should praise.”

I mount my mare, patting her neck, and calling her a good girl. “Let’s go home.” I pull the reins back.

Furia has only started to turn when I hear a voice from the inn’s direction.

“Stop unless you want me to break his neck.”

My blood turns to ice as I glance back and see Bastien silhouetted against the moonlight, holding a struggling Cuervo by the neck.

“Let him go!” I shout across the yard, the rest of my body turning as cold as the blood in my veins. If he hurts him, if he—

“I will let him go when you get off that horse and stand in front of me,” Bastien says.

Hot rage fights against the cold fear for Cuervo’s life. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” I can’t see his face, but there’s a frigid sound in his voice that leaves me no doubt he’ll snap my friend’s neck if I don’t do as he says.

I hang my head and swallow the lump in my throat. “Thanks for trying, Jago.”

“I’m sorry,” my cousin says. “I really thought we would make it. ”

Slowly, I dismount and walk toward Bastien. When I stop, I return his gaze with a steely glare, allowing all the resentment I harbor for him to pierce the air like a dagger, every ounce of my disdain unsheathed and ready to fight him.

“Let. Cuervo. Go.” I punctuate each word.

Bastien unclenches his hand with an abrupt stretch of his fingers, and Cuervo weakly flaps to the ground. I fall to my knees and cradle him against my chest. His usually strong croaks sound hoarse and feeble.

“You are despicable.” I slowly rise to my feet and hold the bastardo’s gaze once more.

If he thinks he can intimidate me, he’s mistaken. He will pay for hurting Cuervo, for forcing me into this journey, for keeping me from uncovering this plot, whatever it is. And if he’s involved in any way in Father’s death, I swear to all the gods I will slit his throat.

“Get back to your room,” he says with his usual coldness and indifference.

“You are broken. You are worse than an animal. Who did that to you?” I demand, wanting to hurt him somehow, but getting through to this man is useless. His facade is so hardened that not even a blow from a hammer could break it.

He pushes air through his nose as if it’s all the same to him.

I dig deeper. “I’d wager all that is dear to me that you’re alone and unloved.”

This time, there is a small crack in his expression, but it’s gone so fast that I begin to question if I really saw it.

Without a word, he steps out of the way and extends a hand toward the side path that leads to the front door.

Holding Cuervo gently, I make my way back to my room where I tend to my friend, smoothing his ruffled feathers and caressing his little neck. As I lie down, he huddles in the crook of my arm, his beak resting over the back of my hand.

“Are you going to be all right?” I ask him.

He makes a small sound I know means yes.

“I’m glad. Please forgive me for getting you into this.”

He lifts his head, turns it, and looks at me. “Friend,” he says hoarsely.

And I know he means that he would do anything that I ask of him. A tear slides down my cheek. “I would do anything for you, too.”