House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

36. CHAPTER 36

36

VALERIA

“The wound of words is worse than the wound of swords.”

Moro Proverb

M y stomach twists itself into tight knots as I walk down the grand staircase that leads to my engagement ball.

Fabric drapes around me like spun moonlight, a delicate combination of silvery threads that shimmer gently. The bodice of my exquisite dress is adorned with intricate lace, painstakingly woven to resemble delicate snowflakes. The skirt billows in cascading layers edged with tiny pearls that catch the light and resemble glistening dewdrops on a morning bloom. The sleeves are sheer, veiled with lace that reaches my wrists, giving the impression of gossamer wings. A silver diadem, adorned with precious gemstones, nestles atop my head, its ethereal glow matching the gown’s radiance.

Jago walks next to me, my hand perched on his arm. He wears his academy uniform and looks dashing. I appreciate his company, but I wish Bastien was here instead. A different guard has been in his post all day. I hate the twitch in my heart that his absence causes—the same twitch that has been there since I woke up this morning and found him gone. My bed felt empty and cold, the same as my heart .

I can’t help but wonder why he isn’t here. Is it because he doesn’t want to see me next to Don Justo? Does he care enough for that? I know I would hate to see him with someone else.

“You don’t look too bad, cousin,” Jago says.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Where is grumpy face?”

I shrug, trying to appear indifferent, but I can’t fool Jago, and his raised eyebrow is practically a condemnation.

I lean closer to whisper in his ear. “I slept with him.”

He pulls back to better look at me, as if he’ll be able to discern the sign of my new womanhood. His surprise only lasts for a few seconds, however, and he immediately does what he does best: tease.

“Saints and feathers! What is Don Justo going to say?” He fans himself by batting a hand around his face. “He’ll return you on your wedding night once he finds out you are soiled!”

“You know well I don’t intend to make it that far with that vapid man.”

“I didn’t think we would make it this far, and yet here we are.”

The melody of a tranquil waltz permeates the hall as we approach the ballroom.

I scoff. “Things haven’t gone as I hoped. I’m just buying us some more time, so we can figure out how to solve this.”

“I don’t know, Val. I’m starting to think this is a hopeless endeavor. Amira… she… well, maybe you’re wrong about her, and this is how it’s going to be from now on.”

I can tell from his own uncharacteristic hesitancy that he’s been holding this opinion for some time.

“I am not wrong,” I argue. “That’s not my sister. It can’t be. Now, shut your mouth. We’re here.”

He steps back and bows. “Don’t trip. ”

When I was seven, during one of the first parties my parents allowed me to attend, my foot got tangled in my dress, and I went tumbling down the steps like a helpless kitten. Jago has never let me forget it—not that I would, even if he didn’t tease me. Everyone laughed at me, and I was mortified. That was the day I swore dresses were evil, and I vowed never to wear them again. How thoroughly I lost that battle, too. Father didn’t let me get away with it during any official events. Princesses wear dresses, not trousers. I have to admit, they have their uses, and I’m going to put this silver monstrosity to good use tonight.

I turn the corner and head toward the twenty-foot-tall, gilded doors. They lead to the grand staircase and are flanked by two pages, who bow then pull them open to let me in.

The din of voices, music, and the glow of too many crystal chandeliers assault me, overwhelming my already addled senses. To make matters worse, two pages on the other side of the doors blow on matching horns and obnoxiously announce my arrival.

The chatter stops and every set of eyes in the place turns my way. I stop at the top step, two black marble columns carved like the feathers of a gigantic raven standing at my sides.

Now would be the perfect time to be loyal , I warn my feet.

Affecting the self-important air that court demands, I start my descent, dress swaying back and forth with every step, heeled shoes tapping on the marble.

I incline my head as I meet people’s gazes. Conde Salvador Almolar, a nobleman who once asked Father for my hand in marriage and who sports a mustache resembling a dog’s tail, raises a wine glass in my direction as if to say it’s a shame you didn't choose me . Conceited bastardo!

I scan the ballroom in search of my sister, but it appears she has not yet arrived. This will be her first social event as queen, so I assume she’s determined to outshine me. Good thing I don’t care about being the center of attention. I want this to be over already .

Don Justo strides across the center of the floor, stops before me, and kisses my hand.

“You look enchanting tonight,” he says, his mouth still on my knuckles as he peers up at me from under perfect eyebrows.

“Thank you.” I curtsy.

Smiling hugely, he tucks my arm under his elbow and proceeds to parade us around the room like two preening peacocks. His posture is so stiff, he appears as if he swallowed a rapier. Yet, all the young women’s eyes are set on him. Only a few seem interested in me—or more precisely my dress.

Despite Don Justo’s constipated look, I can tell he’s enjoying himself tremendously. It’s disgusting, really, though it has an advantage: he’s so lost in the attention and adulation he barely notices me.

After I spend half an hour introducing him to a mental list of people he seems to be checking off, he’s engaged in conversation with General Cuenca, talking about troop numbers and Castella’s effort against the veilfallen and the ruffian River.

I stand forgotten off to the side, and when I see the perfect opportunity to excuse myself Don Justo barely acknowledges me.

Breathing in relief, I snatch a glass of wine and step out into the small balcony reserved for Plumanegras only. Whoever’s idea it was to create these sorts of safe spaces throughout Nido… I love them!

I sip my wine, then set the glass on a small mosaic table.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Each word slides down my spine like a caress. I turn and face Bastien. He’s reclined against the wall in the dark. He takes a step forward and a beam of moonlight illuminates his face. My entire soul aches at the sight of him. He’s so devastatingly handsome.

The memory of his jaw sliding against mine flashes before my eyes, and that wanting ache that seems to have wormed its way to every corner of my body redoubles. I want to reach out and touch him, but he feels as distant as the Strait of Jabaltariq right now.

“I am not going to marry him.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“No, you are not,” he agrees.

My heart turns stupid and falls into a ridiculous daydream. He’s here to tell me he won’t allow me to marry Don Justo, to ask me if—

“But you won’t marry me either,” he adds, killing my daydream before it is fully realized.

“Who says I want to marry you?” I snap, hurt driving the questions out of my mouth.

He smiles deprecatingly. “The look in your eyes, I suppose.”

“Why are you acting like this?” Something about him seems altered, or perhaps he’s back to being himself, and it was last night that was different.

“I’m leaving,” he says with finality. “I’m transferring to Qadis.”

“What? Why? Is this my sister’s doing? Because I can—”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your sister. I asked for a transfer.”

The pain that tears through my chest feels like a thousand daggers raking down with vicious force. Last night, he was so tender, so careful, that he made me believe he cared.

All men are the same, Val, Jago has told me this many times, and his words come back to haunt me now. They get what they want, then they’re gone .

I’m such a fool to think that what I perceived in him were echoes of my own feelings, when all this bastardo wanted was his own selfish pleasure.

He never lied to you, Val , a derisive voice says inside my head.

Our exchange last night becomes clearer in my mind

“A bit selfish, don’t you think?” I said.

“This is not about altruism, princess. I want to fuck you. This night, you are mine. ”

I focused on the word mine when I should have focused on the word this .

He was honest. For him, I was always a one-night encounter.

“I see.” My voice is steady, and I’m proud of my inner strength.

Yes, it hurts to find that I can be easily deceived, that despite my pluck, I’m still the child Father warned me about. But this isn’t the first time my heart has been shattered to pieces. I lost my mother and my father.

Bastien Mora is nothing compared to that.

I go on. “I must extend my best wishes to you, though you need not worry. Nido will continue its existence just as it always has. Over the course of centuries, countless souls have passed through here. Your brief stay hardly registers as noteworthy.”

I’d like to say that there is a small flinch in his stern expression, but I’m afraid it’s only my imagination.

Inhaling deeply, I gather strength from the air. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my party.” I walk away so fast that, this time, my feet almost fail me.

“Goodbye, little princess.”

BASTIEN

I hide back into the shadows once more as Valeria walks back into the party.

Frivolous chatter and laughter flow out the open door to taint the night. I inhale sharply, still unable to forgive myself. I ruined everything and now I must leave. I can’t stay here—not after what happened, not after I lost control of myself.

Being close to Valeria Plumanegra was my best chance to get The Eldrystone, and I’ve spoiled it with my ridiculous behavior. I acted like a weakling, forgetting all I ever learned from my past experiences with females.

Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I try to push away the memories of last night, but they rise like mirages, tempting me further. Her skin under my touch, her lips trembling against mine, the maddening heat inside her as I took her fully… it all conspires against my focus.

But she is inconsequential, a cog in this faulty reality that only my ownership of The Eldrystone can repair.

My only hope is that my withdrawal from Nido won’t matter after tonight. Everything could be precipitated through Amira Plumanegra. Valeria will find herself with no other alternative but to bring out the amulet at last. The allure of its power, the promise that it can remedy all her troubles, will be impossible for her to resist.

And it will be this hunger to be almighty that will spell Amira and Valeria Plumanegra’s undoing.

The memories of the young princess will fade with time. She will leave no mark on me, just as she claimed I would leave no mark on her. Though perhaps I’m wrong about this.

I won’t soon forget my lack of control, something I’ll need to remedy, so nothing similar ever happens again.

VALERIA

My chest aches with my effort not to cry. I want to walk out there and rage in Bastien’s face, demand why he’s doing this, but instead, I keep walking, holding myself with the aplomb of a Plumanegra. I’ve been through worse when I was less than half my age.

I’m grateful when I find Jago sitting quietly in a corner, nursing a glass of wine.

He perks up when he sees me. “There you are. Is everything all right?” As always, he finds it too easy to read my expression.

“It’s just Don Justo,” I lie. “I wish I could push him off the balcony.” This manages to get him off me.

“All those ladies would be terribly mad at you if you dared touch a hair on his coiffed head. They might throw you off the balcony instead.” He gestures with his glass, pointing at a gaggle of young women surrounding my supposed betrothed.

I’m about to tell Jago what the ladies can do in no proper terms when the horns ring again, this time with The Monarch’s Fanfare.

The music stops. The dancers freeze mid pirouette. Everyone faces the stairs. At the very top, Queen Amira stands transformed. I haven’t seen her in several days, but it might as well have been a hundred years because she is virtually unrecognizable.

Jago and I stand slowly.

“What the hell…” he murmurs.

I shake my head, unable to comprehend. My breath catches, and my heart clenches with shock at the sight.

My sister’s face is entirely covered with black makeup, her eyes white pools in the endless darkness. Her dress is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Woven from iridescent raven feathers, it cascades around her like a waterfall, an ominous sea of obsidian plumes that seem to undulate, ready to take flight. The crowd stares in awe and uncertain fear, just like I do. Amira’s magnificence is undeniable, but it’s also terrifying. This is not our way.

Emerito steps forward and lifts a hand. The fanfare stops. “Esteemed Castellans, bow to the Raven Queen.”

No one does anything. They just stare.

“Bow!” Emerito orders as Amira explodes into a cloud of black.

A collective gasp comes from the guests .

The cloud disperses into hundreds of ravens all croaking, flapping their wings, and weaving through the chandeliers, obscuring their light.

An unkindness of ravens.