House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

27. CHAPTER 27

27

VALERIA

“I find myself conflicted. Los Moros have contributed to our knowledge in abundance. Yet, many have suffered greatly under their rule.”

Manrrique Guillen - Erudito de la Academia Alada - 45 BV

M y heart still pounding after eavesdropping on Amira, I make it to my bedchamber. The door is thrown open, and when I step inside, my heart sinks heavily into the pit of my stomach.

My room, my room , the place where Mother soothed me to sleep after childhood illnesses and night terrors, is destroyed.

Numbly, I place one foot in front of the other and walk further in. My furniture is gone. My belongings have vanished, leaving behind broken walls and floors littered with debris underfoot. In one corner, I discover the tulip tapestry that Mother and I once embroidered together, now abandoned. I lift it gently and hug it close to my chest, tears welling in my eyes.

Amira didn’t even have the decency to mention they’d destroyed my bedchamber searching for Mother’s necklace.

I want to run back downstairs and yell at her. I want to shove her and slap her and…

Gods! What is wrong with her? !

My arms tremble and tighten around the tapestry as if to strangle it.

“Sad,” a voice croaks behind me.

I turn and see Cuervo perched on the balcony’s railing. I approach him, the weight of the sadness he just named heavy in my soul.

“I don’t have much from Mother, Cuervo.”

I hang the tapestry over the railing and beat on it. Dust floats up in a cloud and gets carried away by the wind.

“I made this with her. Well, I made this flower and this one.”

With a trembling finger, I point to two small crooked tulips.

“They’re ugly, but she told me they were beautiful, better than the first ones she made when she was little.”

Cuervo’s eyes are full of sympathy as he looks up at me. Seeing such understanding in his expression snaps me out of my emotional spiral. I can’t let despair take me. I have a mission, and I won’t accomplish it by feeling sorry for myself.

Taking a deep breath, I get my thoughts in order, realigning my plans with all I’ve learned today. Once I’m calm, I take the tapestry and leave in search of Jago. I find him sleeping in his bedchamber, shirtless and drooling on his pillow, a bottle of wine on the night table.

“Wake up!” I slap his cheek.

His eyes roll as he struggles to keep his lids open.

“Really? Did you have to get drunk first thing?”

He sits up. “I’m not drunk. I only had two glasses of wine.” Yawning hugely, he stretches his arms over his head.

“Oh, good.” I make myself comfortable in a cushioned armchair and watch as he jumps off the bed and finds his shirt.

“How did your meeting with Amira go?”

I tell him every detail of our conversation.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Jago shakes his finger at me. “You wanted adventure since you were little, and now you’re in the middle of a conspiracy. ”

“Look,” I say in a no-nonsense tone, “I need you to find Don Justo and tell him that I will have breakfast with him tomorrow in the sunroom. East wing.”

Jago frowns, clearly displeased by the assignment.

“I don’t want to see him yet,” I say. “I want to delay any interaction with him as much as possible.”

“Um, why not have one of the servants deliver your message? It doesn’t have to be me. The man is a dolt, and I’d rather someone twist my nipples—they’re very sensitive, mind you—than see his face again. I already had to ride five days with him from Alsur, thanks to you.”

I clear my throat. I thought about this long and hard. “I understand, but I was thinking you could act as my representative in all official matters.”

He sits at the edge of the small desk he keeps in one corner and gives me a slow blink. “Official matters? Since when do you care about those?”

“Since I came to terms with the fact that it’s the only way I’m going to figure out who killed Father?”

He huffs and crosses his arms. “I don’t want to have anything to do with official matters , and you know that. I thought we were of the same mind.”

“Maybe it’s time we grow up, Jago.”

“And end up like our parents?” He walks to the night table, grabs the wine bottle, and takes a long swig. “I’d rather not.”

“What then? What is your plan?”

“I have no plan.” The smile he gives me is one of his most fetching ones. He’s proud of this.

“And you expect to go on like that your entire life?”

He shrugs. “I see nothing wrong with that.”

Slowly, I stand, the heat of anger filling my chest. “So you’re saying that your aspirations amount to being a drunk and a cad who sleeps with anything that moves. ”

His eyes widen. “A drunk and a cad who sleeps with anything that moves?” he echoes. “Is that what you think of me?”

I want to take the words back as soon as they’re out. I can see the hurt in his expression and hate that I sound exactly like Father. But maybe he was right.

He sputters a laugh. “That is what you think of me. At least you didn’t call me a leech. Your Father used that word once.”

I shake my head. “That is horrible. I would never—”

He cuts me off. “My father and my mother gave this kingdom enough, and what did they get in return? A stately mausoleum in an abandoned cemetery? You think that might have been enough to buy their only son a quiet existence.”

I can do nothing else but stare. I have no words for him because I never knew he felt this way, never knew that Father—

“Simón Plumanegra never saw any value in me because I didn’t aspire to be the captain of his Guardia Real, because I don’t value violence, because I don’t think life is a prescriptive formula everyone needs to follow.” His voice is several octaves higher now, and his cheeks are red with the fervor of his words and feelings.

“I’m sorry, Jago.” Still holding the tapestry, I incline my head and walk toward the door. I stop and stare at the floor for a moment before I reach for it. “I will find someone else to help me. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I don’t look back as I exit. I’m too embarrassed to do so. Father thought there was only one way for a Plumanegra to live their life, and that was in the service of Castella. He was selfless in that way, but he was unable to understand that not everyone was like him. Duty isn’t the sole measure of one’s existence, and while some might feel lucky to be a Plumanegra, it doesn’t mean that is all they would ever want to be.

As I meander down the least frequented halls in Nido, I realize the irony of my situation. It seems I’m growing up to be exactly who Father wanted me to be .

Regardless of that, I understand Jago. I can’t lie and say I’m not disappointed. I want him by my side in this. He, Nana, and Cuervo are the only beings I trust at the moment. But I won’t force him or guilt him into doing something that goes against his nature. At least, I learned that much after being asked to do the same so many times.

Five minutes later, I find that I’ve wandered all the way to my favorite sparring courtyard. It seems my mind can’t quiet down despite the fact that I already have a plan. I roll up the tapestry and leave it in the armory.

Outside, I lean against the battlement, allowing the crisp breeze to caress my face. My gaze drifts across the woods and city encircling my home. Clouds drift lazily across the sky, a stark contrast to my racing thoughts. Castellina sprawls beneath me, with distant blue-gray mountains tracing the contours of the valley.

The realm of the Plumanegras stretches far and wide, a legacy that has endured for nearly four centuries. The fae magic, that ancestral gift, has been instrumental in maintaining our enduring dynasty, a rarity among neighboring kingdoms. While elsewhere, disputes, internal strife, uprisings, and conquests create new kingdoms in the blink of an eye, Castella is different in this regard. But what if we have reached the end of our road?

It must have been what Father was worried about.

Since we lost our espiritu, things have changed. There are the veilfallen, deep within the kingdom’s womb, and Los Moros to the south, hoping to reclaim what was once theirs.

Now, our king is gone, and his daughter, his replacement, may not be the person he hoped. And even if she is, perhaps she’s not strong enough to take his place—not if she has fallen under the influence of Orys’s malevolent powers. Could it be that the task falls to me now?

Anxiety clenches my throat at the very thought.

A sudden noise from behind startles me, yanking me out of my reverie and grounding me in the present. I whirl, clearing my throat and the choking sensation that nearly stole my breath away.

Of course, the choking sensation returns as I see who stands behind me: Guardia Bastien Mora.

I wait for him to say something as I stare at his stern face, but not a word comes out of him.

“Do you want something?” I demand.

“Your sister sent me to watch over you.”

Now, it’s a laugh that chokes me. “You can’t be serious. I’m sorry. You might have been a top cadet at the academy, but as a personal guard , you’re a failure.”

The satisfaction that floods me when his mouth twists and a muscle ticks in his jaw is very… well… satisfying.

I walk closer and stop a few feet away from him. I thrust my chest forward and put on a self-important air. These things don’t come easy to me, and I feel extremely awkward. However, I’m hoping practice will make me perfect.

Bastien’s dark eyebrows draw together as he scans me, his eyes subtly sweeping over my attire, and even though it happens quickly, I don’t miss the glance directed towards my décolletage.

I smile inwardly.

“Pray, do enlighten me, why would my dear sister burden me with such a disappointment?” I circle around him as he remains steadfast, his gaze seemingly fixed on some distant point as though I’ve vanished into thin air. Still, I sense there is much he’d like to say.

“Are you in league with her?” I dart around his left flank to peer into his face and gauge his reaction, but it remains as inscrutable as ever.

I continue pacing around him, arms behind my back. There’s a small ledge to his right, a three-inch brick barrier that encircles the flowerbeds. I step on it and walk along its length. Balancing, I go from one end to the next, and on the way back, I stop and face him.

His profile captivates me, and I’m struck by his sheer perfection. His jawline is impeccably chiseled and angular. The bridge of his nose rises gracefully before descending to a subtly upturned tip. His brow and chin exude strength, and his lips are neither too thin nor overly full, striking the perfect balance. Wavy black hair is swept back from a slight widow’s peak, resembling the texture of soft silk.

My foot slips from the ledge. I yelp and throw my arms out, but I know I’m going to end up ensconced in the rosebush behind me. I’m just on my way down, but I’m already mortified.

Bastien’s strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me upright. As he sets my feet on the ground, I find myself standing against his hard body, his arms embracing me tightly.

He’s looking down at me. I’m looking up at him. Something passes between us. I don’t know what it is but it feels slightly like… recognition.

But that makes no sense.

Abruptly, he lets me go and takes a step back. “Dainty shoes don’t seem to suit your usual agility, princess. It seems I don’t have to worry about any escape attempts while you’re dressed in this manner.”

I glare at him, nostrils flaring. Clenching my fists, I take a moment to ease my temper, and when it passes, I know what I need to do.

“You’re absolutely right,” I respond, forcing a smile with that air of haughtiness that makes me feel like a harpy, even though this man deserves every bit of my disdain. “But that isn’t the only reason you and my sister shouldn’t worry. You see, I’m back for good. As I told Queen Amira, I’ve come to my senses. I’m here to do my duty, and since you’re here, and I have no one else to do my bidding, I want you to find Don Justo and inform him that I’m ready to meet him tomorrow for breakfast in the east wing sunroom. Good day, Don Bastien. ”

I turn on the heel of my traitorous shoe and march out of the courtyard, resisting the temptation to glance over my shoulder to see Bastien’s reaction. I can well imagine it, though.

I’d wager it’s corpse-like.

When I get to my destroyed bedchamber, I find Jago waiting for me. He’s on the balcony, feeding Cuervo grapes and making clicking sounds with his tongue.

“Hey,” I say, unsure whether or not he’s still mad at me. I hope the fact that he’s here means he isn’t.

“What the hell happened here?”

I set the rolled-up tapestry on the floor and shrug.

He shakes his head. “Such bastardos. I can’t believe they did this.” He gives Cuervo the last grape and turns, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’m sorry.”

“ I’m sorry,” I say at the same time.

“No, I was being an ass. Of course, I’ll help you.”

I shake my head. “It’s all right, Jago. I understand. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I was out of line. I’ve been dragging you into all my troubles despite knowing how you feel about what duty has stolen from you already.”

“True, I don’t care about any duties as a Plumanegra, but you’re my friend, and my most beloved cousin, so…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Oh, get off your high horse, and let me help.”

“A high horse has nothing to do with it. I found someone else to help.”

“Who’s the poor sucker?”

“Bastien. ”

“Bastien?”

I nod. “If he’s going to be hanging around me, he can make himself useful.”

“Do you mean he’s still your guard?”

“Yes.”

“That makes no sense. You left him in the dust in Alsur. Well, actually, you were the one left in the dust while he chased me,” he says thoughtfully. “But you know what I mean.”

“Jago, I want to apolo—”

Jago turns to face the open sky. “You’re right about me. I have no purpose. My life—”

“You don’t have to—”

“Let me talk.”

I shut my mouth, stand next to him, and watch the sun play on the observatory’s broken walls in the distance.

“Uncle Simón was hard on me,” he begins, “but he was hard on Amira and you, too. I know he loved us and wanted the best for us. He did what he had to. He challenged us, never settled for less than our very best. And even if our best wasn’t good enough, he never gave up on us.” He pauses. “I thought we would have more time, Val. I thought he would be there for a long time.” He swallows thickly and blinks repeatedly up at the sky. “I miss him,” he says, blowing air through his nose.

“I miss him, too.”

He faces me, then wraps me in a hug. “I’m so confused. I thought I hated him.”

“He loved you, Jago. He may not have said it in so many words, but I saw the way he looked at you sometimes. He used to say that even though you look like your mother, you were just like his brother, stubborn and brave.”

“No brave,” Cuervo croaks. “Chicken.”

Jago and I pull apart, give Cuervo a sidelong glance, then burst out laughing.

We stand in silence for a few minutes, watching fluffy clouds float by.

At last, I sigh. “I should go see Maestro Elizondo.”

“Need me to come with you?”

“No, though if you’re still willing to help there’s something you can do for me.”

“What is that?”

“It might be unpleasant, but it doesn’t involve Don Justo.”

“Then I’m all ears.”