House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

21. CHAPTER 21

21

VALERIA

“They can keep their wooden saints, but they will follow our laws.”

Abu al-Mohads - Caliph of Carduba - 77 BV

S oon we leave the dirt road and we’re back on the cobbled streets. The carriage still rattles, but the ride is slightly smoother. I imagine Bastien thrusting me in front of my sister and perhaps Don Justo, if he is truly here in Castellina. It will be humiliating, but it doesn’t matter what they do or say, I’ll make their lives a living hell if they force me to do anything I don’t want to do.

At least, I will see Nana. I wouldn’t mind one of her tender embraces, and the soothing sound of her sweet voice. And Jago… I’ll see Jago as well, right?

I wonder where Cuervo is. If he’d been near, he might have been able to warn me of Bastien’s presence, but I can’t blame him for enjoying that which I don’t have: his freedom. As long as he’s all right, that’s all that matters, though.

A deafening sound explodes all around me as something crashes against the carriage and sends it lurching to the side. I slide down the bench as the vehicle teeters precariously, then tilts and begins its descent down what feels like a steep slope. Arms and legs twisting into knots, I go tumbling, careening from the floor to the side, then to the ceiling and back again. My ears are assailed by the splintering of wood and the agonized screams of men and horses.

There is a loud splash, and the carriage starts filling with water.

Oh, gods!

I stand on the ceiling of the carriage, my boots half-soaked. We have rolled into the Manzanar River. It’s the only explanation. The river travels west to east across Castellina and must be crossed to get to Nido.

Fear bubbles inside my chest. The carriage will sink, and I’ll drown. Maybe this was the plan all along, to get rid of me.

I start pounding on the door again, crying out for help. I watch the water closely, expecting it to rise, but it doesn’t.

My relief lasts for only an instant, then the door is thrown open and a figure wearing a heavy cowl that reveals a set of dark eyes—one of them scarred—stands outside.

River. The veilfallen leader!

He grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me out of the overturned cabin. Without a preamble, he throws me over his shoulder and runs.

I kick and pound my fists against his back. “Let me go. Let me go!”

How is he here? What is going on? A horse kicks weakly, stirring the water. He’s lying on his side. The poor animal will drown. Someone should help him, but the men lie sprawled on the river bank, moaning.

I keep fighting. I buck and jerk from side to side as hard as I can.

River grunts as he rearranges his hold on me. “Stop or I’ll knock you out,” he rumbles as he turns the corner into a narrow street.

He runs up the road with that speed the fae have. I peer down the length of the distance we’ve traversed, hoping to see one of the royal guards coming to my aid, but there’s no one. I’d prefer to face a human guard any day than contend with a fae, let alone River of the veilfallen .

I continue struggling, even as my limbs grow weak and my hope drowns. I can only imagine what the veilfallen want with me, and none of the things that come to mind are any good.

River weaves through the labyrinthine streets and alleys, causing my head to spin and leaving me disoriented. I have no idea in what part of Castellina we are anymore.

Eventually, he enters a three-story building and shuts the door behind him. It dawns on me that my cries for help have fallen on deaf ears. No one ventured to assist me, all choosing to remain safely behind closed doors, unwilling to endanger themselves. Does this mean Castellina has descended into lawlessness? Does it imply that the night belongs entirely to the criminals?

Father feared that our capital city would become such a place. Were all his efforts in vain?

River swings me down, and the room turns. My stomach convulses, and I vomit. He jumps backward to avoid getting my sick on his boots. Collapsing to my knees, I empty the rest of my dinner onto the floor. The rancid scent of stomach acid stings my nose. I push away and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

The room we’re in is dilapidated, furnished with broken chairs and layers of dust. River stands silhouetted against the moonlight that cuts through a small, broken window. His shoulders are wide and so is his stance.

“Valeria Plumanegra, you are a hard person to track,” he says, his voice calm and those dark eyes watching me closely through the small slit in his cowl.

Slowly, I rise to my feet, eyes roving around the room, searching for an exit.

“You won’t get away this time, princess,” he says.

“How is your leg?” I glance down at the place where I stabbed him .

Fae heal quickly on their own. Most of the time, they don’t even get scars, not unless the attack is magical in one way or another, which makes me wonder about the scar across his eye. Did he get it here or in Tirnanog? He looks to be in his late twenties, but for all I know, he’s hundreds of years old. Some fae can live to be a thousand. I can’t even fathom what that must be like.

He ignores my question. The fact that he carried me here at full pelt is answer enough. He pulls out a dagger and aims it at me. I take a step back and hit the wall. I’ll give him a matching scratch in his other eye if he comes closer. Before I can even move, he’s on me, hard body flush against mine, the tip of the dagger at my jugular.

His free hand travels the length of my body, over my breasts, my rear, between my legs. A flush of embarrassment heats my neck, my cheeks, even my ears.

He steps away, and I lash out, growling. “Animal!”

Why didn’t he ask if I was carrying any weapons? He didn’t have to paw me up and down. Not that I would have told him if I did.

“What do you want with me?” I don’t want to be on my way to Nido with Bastien, but I would rather not be in the clutches of yet another bastardo.

“I don’t mean you harm,” he says, lifting his hands to show me they’re empty. “I just want to talk.” I find his calm demeanor infuriating. The man has ice in his veins.

“Talk?” I scoff. “Well, you forgot the tea and pastries.” I glance around the room. “You could have dusted, at least.”

There’s no hint of amusement in his eyes. In fact, there’s no hint of anything. He just goes on staring at me, never breaking eye contact as if he were trying to pry my mind open by will alone.

“My condolences on the passing of your father,” he says .

Anger rises in my chest at his sheer audacity. As if he wouldn’t have killed Simón Plumanegra with his own hands if he’d had the chance, as if it’s not a distinct possibility that Orys is working with him, or for him.

My gaze falls to the dagger strapped to his thigh. What if I went for it and—

“You won’t be fast enough,” he says, guessing my thoughts.

I take a few steps to one side to get away from my vomit. Its acrid smell is making me nauseous again.

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth,” I say, my eyes still roving the room, cataloging every aspect of it as my brain tries to figure out an escape. There is a set of stairs to my right that might offer a way out since the front door is out of the question. If only I had inherited my mother’s fae speed.

“Fair enough.” He inclines his head. “Let’s talk about you, then.”

“You’re wasting your time. Whatever you want, whatever you think you can accomplish by kidnapping me, it’s not going to work.”

“We’ll have to see.”

I cross my arms. “Talk then. What do you want? I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re after. I don’t have any power. I’ve never cared about befriending council members or gaining political favors of any kind, so I can’t help you there either. And if you hope to use me as leverage with my sister,” I laugh, “good luck. She hates me, and she’d rather be rid of me.”

Saying those words hurts. The last time I saw my sister, I felt the hatred I speak of. What I’ve yet to find out is if it’s real.

“Good thing, I’m not interested in any of those things,” he says.

I frown, confused. What else could he want?

Out of the corner of my eye, I glance toward the stairs, judging how quickly I can climb them and whether or not River can catch me.

“Your mother,” he says .

Every muscle in my body freezes. My mother. My fae mother. Why would this veilfallen bring her up? Did he use to know her when she lived in Tirnanog?

“What about my mother? She’s dead,” I say.

There’s a slight change in the tension around his eyes.

“Did you know her?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

I think I already know the answer, and if I’m right, then I think I also know what he wants. River aims to use that knowledge as leverage. No one, no one can know my mother was fae. It would be chaos. Fae haters in our counsel would immediately work to remove the Plumanegras from the throne, a century-old dynasty that has always served Castella well. Many would seek to install themselves as leaders, and there are few, if any, who would do it out of selfless reasons.

“I did know her,” River says, confirming my fears. “Loreleia Elhice.”

That is her fae surname, which Father erased from our lips the moment Mother revealed it.

“You will never utter that name ,” he said, casting Mother a reproachful glare.

“I knew her,” he repeats. “In Nilhalari, sometime before she came to Castella and met your father.”

My breathing is agitated, and the escape I’ve been planning up the stairs is all but forgotten. For the most part, Mother’s life remains shrouded in mystery to Amira and me. While she was alive, she would tell us little stories about her previous life, but always when Father wasn’t around. When he was present, she dutifully followed his orders not to speak of the past. When she died, any knowledge we might have gained died with her. Despite our constant nagging, Father rarely spoke of her again, and when he did, it was only to insist on the lies we were to tell the rest of the world .

Now, standing in front of someone who could tell me the things I’ve always craved to know, I find myself disarmed, my attention completely captured by this male from whom I should flee. There is a side of me I crave to understand better, a feeling of absence that nothing seems to fill.

“What do you know about her?” I ask, my voice a near plea that lets River know he has me in the palm of his hand.

His eyes crinkle a little, and that’s how I know he’s smiling. “I know she had in her possession a very important amulet.”