House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

29. CHAPTER 29

29

VALERIA

“You will leave out all mention of The Eldrystone in Amira and Valeria’s lessons, understood?”

Rey Simón Plumanegra (Casa Plumanegra) - King of Castella - 11 AV

B efore nighttime, my bedchamber gets efficiently restored while I eat dinner with Nana. She has many questions, but I manage to pacify her with what can only be called lies. I don’t want to worry her though. She is too fragile and deserves her peace.

After that, I instruct the reliable housekeeper to have my chambermaids tend to me in the morning—a request that also leaves her flabbergasted since I haven’t needed their services in years—I retire to my room and spend an hour setting every little thing just right.

Finally, I lay my head to rest and when sleep finds me, so does a vague dream with the trapping of a nightmare.

The next morning, I’m tired and in a bad mood, but I treat the chambermaids kindly as they help me get into one of my elaborate dresses. I couldn’t do it on my own. I selected one that shows considerable cleavage. I have a feeling it might offer me help with Don Justo .

When they’re done with me, I look like one of the many debutantes who attended Amira’s birthday party ball last year. Excessive ruffles, too much makeup, and too many lacquered curls.

“Perfect,” I tell the girls, making sure to make eye contact with each one of them. They seem eager to do a good job even though I barely know them.

After they leave, I pace alongside my bed. The notion that the most powerful instrument ever created in all the realms is hidden somewhere in the rubble of the old observatory has me on edge. More than once, I have to stop myself from calling Cuervo and asking him to retrieve The Eldrystone. I could use it to unmask Orys and defeat the veilfallen and Los Moros, but I’m terrified. Bringing the amulet back to Nido could be disastrous. I have no idea how to use the jewel’s power, and I fear that my actions will only cause it to fall into the wrong hands.

When it’s time to leave, I walk out of my room and find Bastien there. He was standing in the same spot when I came back from dinner with Nana last night. Did he even move? I examine his face to see if he appears tired, but he looks as fresh as a dewy rose.

“Good morning, princess.” He bows slightly.

“Good morning to you, too,” I say with matching mockery.

Holding my head high, I march down the hall, dreading my meeting with Don Justo.

“Just the way I like to begin each day,” I mumble under my breath.

Bastien appears at my side. “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, I turn to look at him. He sounds and looks sincere. Have all the hells frozen over?

“I shouldn’t add to your already… complicated life,” he says.

“Did someone hit you over the head?”

He blows air through his perfect nose in amusement. “Many times. Hazards of the job.”

“It smells as if you’re calling a truce.”

“You could call it that.”

I narrow my eyes and say nothing. A truce? No, I can’t trust Bastien. This change of heart seems too sudden and convenient—not to mention out of character. It has to be some sort of trick.

He must be following orders from Amira , my most sensible self says inside my head.

But if he failed so many times to do his job, why would she still trust him? Again, I find myself wondering if he is Orys or in league with him. And again, I dismiss the idea because Bastien was there when the sorcerer attacked, and he tried to help Father and me. I rub my left temple as a headache blooms there.

One thing at a time, Val.

Right now, I have to take care of Don Justo.

When I arrive, I take a deep breath and put on my most pleasant face before stepping into the sunroom. My heart pounds with nerves, and I steel myself to face the mysterious man I’ve only been told about.

When Don Justo hears my approach, he shifts his gaze from the beautiful garden view and turns to me.

My expectations shatter, and I blink in surprise at the sight of the man who stands in front of me. I hadn’t trusted the portrait of him I saw in Alsur. I thought it was an exaggeration from the artist, a paid-for commission meant to render him in the best possible light.

But now, looking at him across the food-laden table, I realize that the portrait did absolutely no justice to the man. Don Justo is every bit as handsome as he was depicted and more to boot.

Before me stands a striking figure, his presence commanding every bit of my attention. He possesses a tall and imposing frame, every muscle beneath his clothing chiseled and defined. His sun-kissed blond hair falls in effortless waves, framing an angular face and looking as thick as a lion’s mane. Piercing blue eyes, like shards of cerulean ice, hold a spark of unwavering confidence and a hint of arrogance .

I stand there, feeling intimidated by his raw presence. He may be handsome, but something about him conveys latent savagery. I don’t like the way he’s scanning me from head to toe, making me feel as if he’s going to pounce at any moment.

Involuntarily, I glance askance at Bastien. He stands at attention by the door, and I’m glad of it—a ridiculous notion since he’s also my enemy, isn’t he? Besides, I don’t need him. I know how to defend myself.

“Good morning,” I say, pushing away my bafflement and apprehension.

He walks around the table and comes to stand a few paces in front of me. He bows deeply, reaches for my hand, and presses a gentle kiss between two knuckles.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, his words polished but somehow forced.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

He pulls out a chair for me and helps me sit, then takes the place across from me. He gives a moment’s consideration to Bastien.

“Is he your guard or your servant?” Don Justo asks.

“Both.”

Bastien’s mouth twists slightly, which gives me enormous satisfaction.

“I must say, dear Princess Valeria, that I was rather disappointed not to find you at Villa de la Paz.”

Those blue eyes hold mine, and I sense the shrewd quality of his character that I heard about from members of the court.

I reach for a bowl of fruit. Making sure my movements are calm and unhurried, I serve myself a few slices of orange and apple, then set the bowl down.

My response is as unhurried as my movement. “My apologies, Don Justo. You should know that I am a willful woman and hate being ordered about. I wanted to remain in Castellina for my father’s funeral, and that comfort was denied to me. ”

As he mulls over my answer, I watch him closely. If he wants a submissive wife, I want him to know he’s looking in the wrong place. Perhaps, a little clarity will send him away.

“Willful, huh?” He leans back, savoring the word with a smile. “I do love a challenge.”

Well, it couldn’t have been that easy, could it? Of course, it had been wishful thinking on my part. He wouldn’t allow something as trivial as my stubbornness to get in the way of his ambition.

I clear my throat. “I will not be a challenge, of course. Not if I’m given what I want, what I’m used to.” I spear a piece of apple with my fork and take a dainty bite.

“You will not lack for anything, I assure you.” He seems affronted by the suggestion that he might not be capable of providing for me.

Maybe this is an angle of attack. “I am a princess.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“I told my sister I will not be married off like some sort of nuisance she wants to get rid of. I want it done the right way.”

One of his fine eyebrows goes up. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that I want a proper engagement party and a proper wedding at the Basilica de Castellina, presided by Archbishop Septimo Aquila, of course.”

Now both of his eyebrows are up, looking as if they might join his hairline to make his majestic mane even thicker.

“I… I wholeheartedly agree.” His mouth stretches into a huge smile that shows his back molars.

As I suspected, he’s immensely gratified by this. He wants so badly to get higher in the rungs of Castella’s social ladder that I couldn’t have provided him with a better set of news. He has no idea the Castellan crema de la crema will eat him alive.

He interlaces his fingers, which are blunt and coarse. It is in this roughness that the mercenary is, at last, revealed. “You should have everything befitting a princess, and I would hate to be the one to rob you of that.” He reaches across the table and places a rough hand on top of mine.

I resist the urge to pull away, but it turns out to be a mistake, as he interprets it as some sort of encouragement. He rises from his seat and circles the table, seizing my hand and pulling me to my feet.

Without any sort of prudence, his stare lingers on my cleavage before belatedly meeting my eyes.

“You’re delightful and more appetizing than I imagined,” he says, acting as if he’s giving me a compliment. Except I’m not a scrumptious dessert for him to devour. I’m a woman of intelligence and strong, independent will.

In a flash, his arm goes around my waist, pressing my body tightly against his. A wave of revulsion rolls up from the pit of my stomach. He angles his face, and my revulsion mixes with a heavy dose of panic. He intends to kiss me.

Bracing both hands against his chest, I try to push him away, but his grip is firm.

My first kiss cannot be with this man, with someone who would force me. I want to scream, but if I do, everything will fall apart. This went well. I bought myself the time I need to unravel this mystery and, perhaps, even save myself from a lifetime as this brute’s wife.

I can’t scream. I have to bear it.

“Princess Valeria,” Bastien’s deep voice breaks through my disgust and panic. “I’m sorry to interrupt, you asked me to remind you about your Tirgaelach lesson with Maestro Elizondo.”

With a reluctant growl, Don Justo releases me and glares at Bastien. I take two quick steps back and do my best to appear shy rather than ready to pull out a dagger and stab him right through the neck .

“My apologies,” I say. “I do have a full schedule today, which includes meeting with the best seamstress in all of Castellina to talk about the proper wedding dress for a princess.”

Don Justo seems to like this, so I add, “I would suggest you talk to the best tailor as well. I want our wedding to be the talk of the town.”

At this, he looks a bit frazzled. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he feels out of his league when it comes to fashion. He’s dressed adequately, but he’s far from the likes of Barón Miguel Rubio de la Concha and Duque Luis Tinto Gallegos, two of the most eligible and fashionable bachelors in Castellina’s upper circles.

“I will certainly do so.” And with that, he bows and leaves, though not without giving Bastien one more nasty glare.