House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

30. CHAPTER 30

30

VALERIA

“These Castellan's must make room to plant rice. We will teach them how.”

Tariq Zuhr - Moro Settler - 98 BV

“ W hy did you do that?” I ask Bastien as we stand alone in the sunroom.

He shrugs and goes back to staring straight ahead.

I snatch a pastry from the table and walk out. I only ever seem to eat on the run anymore. Bastien follows me at a distance, almost as if he isn’t doing his job. Anyone looking on would never guess he’s supposed to be keeping an eye on me.

When we’re almost to my bedchamber, and no one’s around, he finally comes closer.

I turn to face him. The way he acted in the sunroom is still bothering me. “I know you don’t like me, so why did you lie to… save me from that jerk?”

He thinks for a moment, then says, “Because I hate bullies.”

For some odd reason, his answer disappoints me. I thought he would at least try to deny that he dislikes me, but I guess I’m just a job to him. Expecting even a hint of friendship from someone stuck with me might be asking too much .

Back in my bedchamber, I go back to pacing along my bed like a lunatic. I can’t get the amulet out of my head. If it gets lost, worse yet if it falls into the wrong hands, I could never forgive myself. Maybe I should ask Cuervo to bring it back. I could—

No! I shake my head so forcefully that a few strands of hair come loose. The amulet is safer outside of Nido .

Besides, what am I supposed to do with it? I’m not the right person to hold such power, not that I could wield it. I’m just a half-fae whose espiritu was a one-time fluke, who—

My legs give out, and I fall to my knees as a memory hits me like a lightning bolt.

I was wearing Mother’s necklace the day she died, the day I saved Father from Orys’s first attack. I had totally forgotten. She was letting me play with it after I pestered and begged her.

That warmth in my chest… it didn’t come from me. It came from The Eldrystone. All along, I’ve been so sure I possess espiritu that it never occurred to me the power came from a different source.

Gods! I cover my face with my hands and weep. I could have saved Father. If I’d known, if I’d understood what happened that day when I was but a child, I could have finished Orys before he had time to take Father away from me.

Why? Why did you hide the truth from me, Father? Why?! And why did my memories fail me?

My chest heaves with huge sobs that I attempt to drown in my hands. I don’t want Bastien to hear me, to learn how weak I am. Clenching my teeth, I push my despair into the darkest corner of my being and stand. My legs tremble, and I barely make it to the bed, where I sit at its edge and take deep, calming breaths.

This isn’t the time to fall apart, Valeria.

After a few minutes of this, my mind clears, and my rational self returns, giving way to another realization: The Eldrystone isn’t a legend .

The Eldrystone is real.

Up to this moment, I hadn’t truly believed that my mother’s necklace was the same one Maestro Elizondo had read about in the parchment. And if it was, then it meant that the story about Niamhara creating the amulet was nothing but lore, concocted to instill the belief that the Theric family was divinely favored among the fae.

Yet, the question remains: how was Mother—a self-described humble fae—in possession of the most powerful object in existence?

A knock at the door brings me back to reality. I scrub at my face to erase any evidence of tears and call, “Who is it?”

“Maestro Elizondo and Nana.” Nana’s old voice comes from behind the closed door.

Still shaky with emotion, I stand, frowning. What are they doing here? Nana hasn’t been in my bedchamber in a long time. The stairs are too hard for her joints to maneuver. And Maestro Elizondo? I don’t think he’s ever been up here.

Still confused, I open the door and let them in.

Nana’s arm is looped through Maestro Elizondo. They hobble in together, and it’s like the blind leading the blind, though I suppose he’s in slightly better shape than Nana. Even if he’s a year older, he doesn’t suffer from her malady.

“What a surprise! Please, come in. Sit.” Curiosity overtakes me. Whatever brought them here has to be related to my conversation with Maestro Elizondo. I see no other explanation.

He helps Nana sit in one of the armchairs, then takes the opposite one. I remain standing, the restlessness that fills me increasing its tempo.

“What brings you here?” I ask.

They exchange a loaded glance.

“It’s about what we talked about yesterday,” Maestro Elizondo whispers behind his hand .

There’s no real need for secrecy here, but I also feel the need to talk in low tones. “And Nana knows something about it?” Why else would she be here?

He nods. “We were having breakfast together this morning as we sometimes do,” he glances fondly towards her, “and we got to talking about… well, you know. The thing is, Serena seems to think that you may be right about that,” he clears his throat, “ important item actually being here is Castella.”

I take a knee in front of Nana. “What makes you think that, Nana?”

“You probably think your mother’s origin is the best-kept secret in Castella, and perhaps it is, given how few know it. Yet, more people than you suspect are aware of it. Marco and I have known the truth for many years.”

“You have?”

She nods. “Since we were always close to you, children, King Simón thought it wise to confide in us.”

It makes sense, but for some reason, it saddens me. All my life, I’ve never been able to talk freely about my mother with Nana or Maestro Elizondo. It hurts to realize that two of the closest people I have in all of Nido could have been my confidants all along.

I glanced over at Maestro. “So yesterday, you knew that there was a possibility The Eldrystone was actually here.”

“No, child,” he shakes his head. “There are many fae in our realm, and I would have never guessed that any of them could be in the possession of such a powerful object. Not even your mother.”

So it must’ve been something Nana told him that changed his mind. I turn my gaze to her.

“I spent many nights with you, Amira, and your mother when you were growing up.” She smooths her already smooth skirts, her eyes distant as if lost in a memory. “She had a necklace, very beautiful. She always tried to keep it hidden, but I saw it on several occasions, hard not to when you were babies and she was nursing you. I noticed how protective she was of it, especially in the beginning. A few times, I observed her looking at it, and there was this… heaviness in her manner. She was a gentle female, always happy and ready to offer a smile, and it was strange to observe such somberness in her expression. I always suspected there was a story associated with that necklace, something to do with her fae home. I had quite forgotten about it until Marco mentioned it.”

“You see,” Maestro Elizondo says, “I have actually read the book from which you copied that passage you brought me. I have seen the illustration that goes along with it, so when I described it to Serena, she immediately thought of Queen Loreleia’s necklace.”

After the realization I had moments ago, I hardly need more proof that Mother’s necklace is actually The Eldrystone, but hearing them talk so solemnly doesn’t fail to cement the knowledge further.

“Child,” Maestro Elizondo pushes to the edge of his chair, “do you have it with you?”

I tense, and the most ludicrous idea occurs to me: what if Amira sent them?

Doing my best not to give anything away, I stretch to my full height, shake my head, and lower my eyes to the floor. Nana knows how to read me better than anyone, and I’m afraid she might see the lie in my features.

“No, I don’t have it,” I say. “I used to play with it, and I lost it.”

“Lost it?” Maestro echoes in shock.

“This is madness!” I exclaim, feeling I need to put on a performance to convince them. I would love to trust them, to have someone else to confide in, but I can’t take that risk. “There’s no way I held The Eldrystone in my hands, that my father allowed me to play with it after Mother died. That makes no sense.”

I peek at them from the corner of my eye, trying to read their reaction. They appear flabbergasted .

Maestro shakes his head and strokes his beard. “You are right. That seems highly unlikely. Perhaps he didn’t know what it was.”

I hadn’t considered the possibility. I should have, but Mother and Father were so close that the possibility doesn’t seem natural. They loved each other very much, and I can’t conceive a world in which she kept something so momentous from him. No, he must have known.

“Maybe he didn’t know,” I echo, trying to diffuse this situation. “Or maybe… maybe it wasn’t The Eldrystone. Maybe it was a replica of some kind.”

Maestro Elizondo nods. “Y-yes. Yes. Yes, that is extremely likely.” He seems ready to dismiss everything with this explanation. After all, this is easier to believe than the alternative.

Nana, on the other hand, doesn’t seem so easily swayed. I can tell she wants to believe Mother was in possession of The Eldrystone, but does she believe I lost it?

Oh, gods! How I want to trust Nana, but what if she has fallen prey to Orys the way I suspect Amira has?

“Whatever the case,” Maestro Elizondo says, “we need to tell your sister about the veilfallen.”

Shit!

The curse word bursts inside my head, but my cheeks heat as if I actually spoke it out loud in front of Nana. She would pull my ears so hard they would come off.

What now? If they talk to Amira, she’ll figure out I know Mother’s necklace is The Eldrystone—not just a trinket. And if she figures that out, she will definitely not believe that I lost it. Instead, she’ll think I want it for myself. Worse yet, sharing their knowledge with Amira might get them in trouble.

“Perhaps,” I start tentatively, “it would be best not to talk to her.”

Maestro Elizondo looks at me as if I’m stupid. He has given me this look plenty of times, so I’m not offended .

“We have to,” he argues. “If the veilfallen think the Plumanegras are in possession of The Eldrystone, I can’t even begin to imagine what they might do.” He stands, his back straighter than normal, which means he’s determined to tell Amira.

“Um, Amira already knows about the rumors,” I say.

“You didn’t mention that.”

“I… I made a mistake.” My mind races trying to come up with something. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the amulet. She trusted me with the information from her spies. So if you talk to her, I’ll get into trouble. Please, don’t tell her.”

He frowns, looking uncertain.

I try again. “She’s already mad at me for leaving Alsur. I’m sure you’ve heard.” I try to look chagrined at the gossip I know has already reached his ears.

They both raise their eyebrows and exchange a glance, which confirms my suspicions. They know I’ve been gallivanting all over Castella, which I have no doubt is the word everyone is using to describe my escape from a marriage to that bastardo.

I go on. “She’ll kill me if she finds out I’m not safely keeping state secrets.”

Maestro Elizondo shakes his head. “I hope you haven’t told anyone else.”

“I haven’t!”

With a sigh, he waves a hand in the air. “I’m glad she knows”

I smile. “Me, too.”

Nana makes as if to stand, and he rushes to her side and extends a hand. She takes it, and as she stretches her rheumatic joints, she offers him a smile that makes him beam. I’ve always wondered if, when they were young, there was something between them. I don’t dare ask, though. I like my ears right where they are .

As they make their way out of my bedchamber, I find that my restless energy from earlier has doubled.

I spend the rest of the day drowning in fabric and helpful assistants armed with little cushions stuffed with pins. They turn me this way and that, tacking lengths of silk to my body and asking me if one shade of white is nicer than the other. I have no idea. All I know is that hours later when I return to my bedchamber, I’m exhausted and determined to never wear a wedding dress in my entire life.

Still restless and itching to tell Cuervo to retrieve the amulet, I return to pacing the length of my bed. My head starts pounding, then I realize there’s only one thing that will calm me down.

Rolling my shoulders, I go into my closet, discard my dress in a pile, and change into my most comfortable tunic, leggings, and boots. Quickly, I braid my hair and tie it with a smooth piece of leather. I leave my room and have to roll my eyes when Bastien follows me at a distance like a grumpy shadow.

In the armory next to the sparring courtyard, I retrieve my rapier and go outside.

From the top of the tower, I realize Castellina is alight in breathtaking twilight. The sun, a radiant orb of molten gold, has begun its descent behind the distant hills, casting a warm, amber glow over the landscape.

The city below seems to settle with a gentle hum, as the first stars twinkle into existence in the gradually darkening sky. The buildings, their windows reflecting the fading sunlight, shimmer like jewels in a sea of stone.

To the west, the horizon blurs into a delicate palette of pastel hues—pinks, lavenders, and soft blues. The sky is a canvas painted by the dreams of an artist. Wisps of clouds catch fire, igniting in shades of coral and tangerine and making me pause long enough to cut my anxiety in half.

Now only a good bout will get rid of the rest .

“Pull out your sword,” I tell Bastien.

At first, he doesn’t react. Instead, he watches me for a moment, then finally obliges, pulling his rapier from its ornate scabbard. The blade emerges with a sharp swish. The sound resonates with purpose, a declaration of readiness. With these rapiers in hand, we are armed not only with steel but with tradition and the unspoken language of combat. For a moment, I stop to wonder if challenging him is a mistake. But really, I don’t care. I need this.

“En guardia,” I say.

He whips his rapier up and down, cutting the air, then strikes a ready pose, his weight evenly distributed, knees slightly bent.

Letting go of all the feelings I’ve been harboring for days, I lunge forward and cry out, “To the touch.”

“To the floor,” he says instead, making this even more interesting than I expected.