House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

20. CHAPTER 20

20

VALERIA

“Princess Valeria made these earrings using bits of raven feathers. Aren’t they special?”

Agata Ca?ero - Nido’s Lady’s Maid - 18 AV

L ater that night, we are on the road again. Gaspar said the guards came looking for us and were extremely frustrated not to find us. He also said they ordered the troop to pack up and go, and that the guards didn’t leave until their wagons were rolling away. Despite everything turning out all right, Gaspar seemed worried.

As Esmeralda and I ride in the back of one of the wagons, facing the retreating road once more, I notice that she appears ill at ease too.

“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be glad that you got away with… Um, I mean that there was no real trouble for you and the troop?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe, but they’ve never forced us to leave before.”

My first instinct is to ask her why she’s surprised it happened. If robbing people is part of their repertoire everywhere they go, it’s only logical that the authorities would wise up to the behavior. It is their job to keep their citizens safe, after all. Logically, this is what my mind dictates should happen. Yet, I say nothing, and instead attempt to look at things from Esmeralda’s perspective.

I think of everyone setting up for a day of peddling their goods, items, or services they sell for a pittance because no one will pay them what is fair. I think of the long hours they spend traveling, sleeping under the open sky, and eating simple, too-small meals that leave their stomachs rumbling shortly after. So, isn’t it our collective fault that they have to take what should be fairly given to them for their efforts?

Does the same happen to the fae? Are they treated just as unfairly?

Some of these Romani are also fae, Val!

Maybe not fully, but could that be part of the reason they’re treated so badly? And if Romani who mostly carry human blood are treated this way, then the fae…

“That head of yours is at work again, huh?” Esmeralda nudges me with an elbow. “Anybody who sees your face would say you carry the weight of the realm on your shoulders.”

I don’t. That’s supposed to be Amira’s job, but what if she’s lost? What if she has veered off course or Orys’s influence has permanently erased her identity?

Shaking my head, I push that awful thought away. My sister isn’t evil, and, one way or the other, she will find her way back.

“I’m glad it doesn’t,” I say. “My own load already feels unbearable.”

“Imagine being Amira Plumanegra,” Esmeralda says.

My heart jumps at the name, and I have to look off to the side to hide my reaction.

“The first queen in, like, two hundred years,” she goes on, “taking over after a murdered king, that’s gotta be tough. Not to mention those veilfallen folk, they’re getting angrier at the Plumanegras every day. I wouldn’t fancy being in her shoes. What ‘bout you? Think you could handle all that mess? ”

I shake my head, my eyes still averted. “No, but she can. I’ve heard she’s strong, level-headed.”

“And I’ve heard she’s a spoiled brat, same as her younger sister. Apparently, Valeria Plumanegra likes to pretend she’s a commoner when she gets bored.”

“Does she?” I ask, nearly choking on the words.

“Yes, if you watch closely, you might spot her wandering the streets of Castellina. She paints that white streak on her head and wraps herself in a hooded cloak to hide her face. She probably thinks she’s being all sly, but we aren’t fools. We see her, but we leave her be. No sense in hassling a troubled child, is there?”

My cheeks heat up to an unbearable level. I want to yell at her, tell her that I’m not a troubled child, but I manage to keep quiet mostly because my shame is too immense to overcome.

“She probably thinks she’s being all sly.” Esmeralda’s words echo in my ears, accompanied by a rebuke of my own.

You’re not sly at all, Val. You’re a complete idiot .

In the next town, everything is repeated, except the part where Esmeralda commits robbery. Instead, she remains by her stall, selling jewelry and playing with the kids when there are no customers. This time, at nightfall, we rest. Everyone is weary from lack of sleep, yet there is excitement in the air due to our impending arrival in Castellina tomorrow. The troop has been on the road for over a month, and everyone is eager for a visit to their more permanent stomping grounds.

I feel the same eagerness in the pit of my stomach, like a snake coiling and uncoiling, a snake that at any minute might sink its fangs into me, releasing a paralyzing poison that won’t let me do what I need to do .

The next day, the troop rolls into Castellina from the south. Twilight paints the sky the way a painter must dream of. Different hues of blue and purple bleed into each other, and I try to pretend the heavens are welcoming me, letting me know everything will be all right.

As we pass near Nido, I try to retreat inside the wagon, but Esmeralda stops me. “Don’t you want to see your new home? No one will recognize you here. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

I almost want to say, “ Maybe they won’t notice me now that I’m not wearing a hooded cloak, ” but I clamp my lips shut and stick close to her as the wagons traverse from one street to the next, carrying us farther from the city’s heart and into regions I’ve never explored, places I never even knew existed.

We’ve traveled west of Nido. That much I know because I can orient myself by the largest pieces of the broken observatory that jut into the sky and refract the dwindling sunlight.

After nearly an hour of driving through the city, we finally come to a stop. The cobbled street has given way to an earthen path lined by small, portable-looking shacks built in a tight row. Several people have come out to welcome the troop back. Most of them are old or disabled in some way or another. They get kisses on their wrinkled foreheads, and tight hugs from little arms clamping around their legs. Everyone is happy, smiling hugely and looking relieved. Do they worry their loved ones will not come back one day? Do they fear they might encounter hostility and violence on the road?

I stand to the side, nearly hidden behind one of the wagons as I twist my borrowed skirt nervously.

“Ma, this is Catalina.” Esmeralda comes close, an older version of herself at her arm. The woman is probably in her late forties, but the gingerly way she moves makes her appear older. White hair frames the sides of her otherwise black hair, and her eyes are large and inquisitive like Esmeralda’s, though they are brown, not green .

“Catalina was in a bit of trouble, so we offered her help,” Esmeralda adds.

“Hello, Catalina. It’s nice to meet you.” She wears an unassuming brown dress, nothing like her daughter’s colorful clothes.

“Nice to meet you too, gentle do?a.” I incline my head.

“Oh, so polite, but call me Leonor.” She gives Esmeralda a raised eyebrow. “I’ve tried to teach this one manners, but…” She shakes her head in defeat.

Esmeralda rolls her eyes. “Let’s get you back inside while we unpack.”

For thirty minutes, there is a flurry of activity as everyone unpacks the wagons. They do it all in an efficient, eager way, as if they cannot wait to be under the roofs of their tiny homes.

I help Esmeralda bring her things inside. There’s barely any room for everything in one corner, but in the end, each bundle finds a place.

Leonor lumbers toward a small hearth, tending a fire and preparing something that smells sweet. When we sit down at a rough-hewn table, she limps our way, carrying two steaming metal cups.

“Orange blossom tea,” she says as I bring my nose close to the rim.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, child.”

There is a knock at the door, and Gaspar puts his head in.

“Everyone is all right in here?” he asks.

A shy smile stretches Leonor’s mouth. “Hello, Gaspar. Would you like some tea?”

Gaspar slides in and closes the door behind him. “I’d love that.” He has removed the band he wears around his forehead, and a full head of black hair falls around his face.

“I’ll get it, ma.” Esmeralda prepares another cup.

Gaspar sits to my right. His knee knocks against mine. “Sorry,” he says, but his green eyes are set on Leonor. “How are you feeling? ”

“Fine,” she responds. The one-word answer feels like an evasion. “How was the journey? Tell me all about it.”

“Ma,” Esmeralda’s tone carries reproach. “How did you fare while we were gone? How’s the pain?”

Leonor sighs tiredly. “Things are always the same here. Nothing has changed. I want to hear about what you saw, what you did. You know I miss being on the road.”

Esmeralda and Gaspar exchange a glance, unpleased by her answer. I don’t know how bad her pain is, but it’s apparent that the fact it remains the same is bad news. Nevertheless, they relent and proceed to tell her everything.

They have tales for every town they visit and do an excellent job recounting them all. They’re funny and witty and complete each other’s sentences, making me wonder if they rehearsed what to say in order to draw out the laughter that now fills the small space.

I join in their merriment, once again feeling a pang of longing for the close bond they share, not to mention the deep affection. I can see it in the way Esmeralda’s green eyes sparkle when her mother smiles, in Leonor’s laughter at Gaspar’s witty quips, and in the way he subtly clutches his hand into a loose fist each time her fingers graze his, as if he’s attempting to preserve her touch in some way.

They also tell her how I ended up with the troop. She’s most interested in this story, and it makes me wonder if she’s worried someone will come after me and will cause them trouble.

I set my cup down, understanding that I’m very close to wearing out my welcome. “I’m very grateful to Gaspar and Esmeralda,” I say. “I hope that one day I can repay you for your help.” This is something I intend to do as soon as I can. “I should be on my way now.” I jump to my feet.

Esmeralda follows. “What? No, you should stay. I’ll make dinner. A feast. It’s a tradition on our first day back, isn’t it, ma?”

“Indeed,” she replies .

I shake my head. “I appreciate it. I really do, but I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality. It’s more than enough that you have helped me get to Castellina.”

“Where are you going to go at this hour?” Esmeralda asks. “It’s late. It wouldn’t be wise or safe. Stay the night at least.”

I press my lips together, unsure.

“Ma? Gaspar?” Esmeralda enlists them in her efforts.

“I agree with her,” Gaspar puts in. “It is late. You need a good meal between your ribs and good rest, so you can face the realm with new energy tomorrow.”

“I second that,” Leonor says.

A good meal sounds very tempting. We’ve eaten little more than stale bread on the road for the past several days. I will need the energy tomorrow, for sure.

“All right,” I agree. “But you have to let me help.” I’m not adept in the kitchen, but I remember a few things Mother taught me when I was little. She enjoyed cooking, and once a week, she took over the palace’s kitchen to prepare something delicious and teach Amira and me what she knew. She never got a chance to show us everything she wanted.

They all cheer, and Esmeralda and I set to work on dinner.

The dinner is truly a feast compared to what they’re used to.

Under the glow of a single candle, Gaspar slices a hearty loaf of bread that takes center stage. Warmth spills from within as the soft center is revealed. A bowl of stew consisting of lentils, onions, and garlic, simmered in broth, sits in front of me, its savory scent tickling my nose .

A small plate of goat cheese sits nearby, and judging by how sparingly they use it, I can tell it’s a luxury they can barely afford. I refrain from taking any of it.

The tender lentils melt in my mouth, their earthy flavor filling me with pride. I helped cook them!

I sip water from earthenware cups to wash everything down, and when I’m done, it all settles in my stomach like a load of stones. I yawn hugely and, for the first time, wonder where I’m supposed to sleep. There is one narrow cot against the back of the room, big enough for one person. I assume that’s where Leonor sleeps, but I have no idea where Esmeralda lays her head down to rest.

“You look ‘bout ready to pass out,” Esmeralda says.

Gaspar stretches his arms over his head and makes a sound like a bear getting ready to hibernate. “I should go. My bones are so weary from so much travel that I wish I could stay right here.” He looks at Leonor when he says this, and I’m sure he wants to add with you at the end of that sentence.

He drags his feet as he heads for the door. Leonor limps along. They exchange a few quiet words before he leaves, and then it’s only the three of us.

Esmeralda and I make quick work of the dishes, while her mother gets ready for bed behind a curtained corner of the room. She emerges wearing a nightgown that was once white. Her gray-streaked hair is down, flowing in waves down to her waist. She’s still a beautiful woman. I can only imagine how much lovelier she was when she was younger. Esmeralda definitely takes after her, and I presume Gaspar never stood a chance after he laid eyes on her.

Leonor settles on the bed. Esmeralda kisses her forehead and bids her good night. I stand in the middle of the room, eyes roving over the floor for a spot where to rest .

“C’mon.” Esmeralda walks to the other side of a wooden beam and starts climbing a ladder I hadn’t noticed. When she reaches the top, she pushes a trapdoor open and climbs through it. There’s a loft cleverly concealed up there.

She pokes her head through the hole. “What are you waiting for?”

I make my way up the ladder and climb into Esmeralda’s space. It isn’t big, and I have to crawl on all fours to avoid hitting the ceiling, which is only a few inches above my head. Once I settle down, however, I find that Esmeralda’s nest of blankets and pillows is quite comfortable.

“Welcome to my Nido,” she says. “It isn’t much, but it’s mine.”

“It’s nice.”

“Don’t lie. I’m sure you’re used to far better.”

“Nothing was ever really mine,” I say bitterly.

“Bah, forget all of that. Think of the future.” She’s sitting, taking all her bracelets off and placing them in a ceramic bowl. They clink one after the other until she’s removed all of them. It’s quite the task. She then removes her heavy necklace and earrings, and finally lies down, facing me. “Tomorrow is your day. Who knows what it’ll bring.”

I blink slowly as exhaustion weighs me down.

“Sleep good,” Esmeralda whispers as I drift away.

I’m not sure what causes me to wake up, but my eyes snap open, and I find that I’m alone. I sit up abruptly, and instinctively flinch as the ceiling appears to loom closer. I had forgotten where I was.

I listen intently. The house is utterly silent.

Crawling, I approach the trapdoor, which is open. I stick my head through it and look down. It’s dark, and I can’t see very well, but I don’t think Esmeralda is down there. I glance toward her mother’s bed .

Is it empty?

Is that just a bundle of blankets?

My heart lurches and starts pounding. Something is wrong. I stuff my feet into my boots as quickly as I can, then scramble down the ladder. Breathing hard, I rush to the window and pull the curtain back. The first thing I see freezes my heart, and I can hardly draw breath.

Guardia Bastien Mora is here.

I retreat from the window, taking several steps back. Hands pressed to my chest, I’m surprised to feel the wild thumping that knocks against my breastbone.

How is he here? This has to be a nightmare.

Wake up, Val. Wake up!

The doorknob rattles. I head straight for the back window and throw it open. I start climbing out just as the door bursts into splinters, and two members of the Guardia Real rush in. I land outside in a crouch, but it’s too late. A shadowy figure already hovers over me.

“Hello, princess.” Bastien’s deep timbre washes over me, sending a chill across my back.

Slowly, I stretch to my full height and meet his eyes.

“Your husband-to-be is very displeased,” he adds. “He has even come to Castellina to fetch you himself.”

My fists clench.

“You’re relentless and resourceful. I’ll give you that,” he says. “But you should know better than to keep Romani for company.”

Esmeralda sold me out. She knew my true identity all along. She brought me all the way to Castella just to do this. And I na?vely believed everything she said to me. I really thought she was my friend. My heart aches at the betrayal.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Father was right. People can’t be trusted .

Everyone is out for themselves. No matter how nicely they treat you, how many smiles they bestow upon you, in the pursuit of their own interests, they will betray you, cheat you, lie to you. Like a hungry beast, treachery lingers in the shadows of trust, something my youthful innocence didn’t allow me to see.

Father, did you have to endure such harsh lessons to grasp this truth?

I try to spit on Bastien’s face, but I only reach the top of his leather armor. He doesn’t even bother to look down or clean the saliva from the breastplate. Instead, he grabs my arm and drags me around the little house to the front, where a windowless carriage awaits.

I fight him, kicking and scrambling. “Esmeralda! You rat. You’ll pay for this. I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.” A growl of frustration leaves my chest. I know she’s watching this, same as the other troop members, who are peeking out through their windows.

Literally lifting me off the ground, Bastien throws me into the carriage. I pound on the door as he slams it shut. I rattle the handle, but it’s locked. I try the other side. The same. This can’t be happening, not after all my efforts to get free. I’m back where I started.

“Mount,” Bastien orders outside.

The carriage starts moving, clattering as it rolls over the uneven dirt road. I pound and pound on the door to no avail. Tears of rage slide down my cheeks.

Bastien and Esmeralda will pay for this. I don’t know how, but one day, I’ll make them regret treating me this way. Esmeralda thinks she’s better than the rich people she robs, but she isn’t. She’s worse. She’s a backstabber and betrayed me for a handful of coins, no more. She sold me like a pound of meat at the market. Well, she better watch herself from now on because, somehow, I’ll get that pound of flesh back.

When my arms are numb from pounding on the carriage walls, I sit and rake my fingers into my hair. My scalp is sweaty and dirty. I can smell myself, and I feel disgusting .

I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way.

Amira can force me all the way up to the altar, but I’ll never willingly marry anyone. The only answer the priest will get out of me is a fist to his groin, the same as Don Justo. And after that, they’ll all pay: Bastien, Esmeralda, Orys, even Amira, if it comes to that.