Page 108 of Echoes of the Raven
My king.
The words echo in my ears, and I think there must be something wrong with my hearing because this can’t be true. Yet, here is more than what Calierin said swimming in my mind.
“Let the whispers turn to screams if you dare defy me. My crown demands obedience. My blade demands respect. By the will of Niamhara and my people, I am your ruler! And in their name, you will stop.”
I know these words. I learned them from a story Mother told me. She said that in a realm where espiritu reins, anyone with enough power can usurp another’s identity, even the king’s.
“That is why,”she explained, “our wise goddess devised a declaration that only the rightful king can intone. No one else, no matter how hard they try, can issue the same statement. So if these words ever grace your ears, my little pixie, know that you stand before the true Fae King.”
Rífíor is Korben Theric.
Korben Theric is Rífíor.
Slowly, he turns to face me, his expression uncertain.
The Eldrystone still hangs from a branch right above his head. I peer up at it and then down at him.
“It really belongs to you,” I whisper. That’s why he never seemed afraid of it.
He doesn’t answer, but the look in his eyes seems to sayI told you it did.
“You’re… Korben Theric.”
Tears blur my eyes.
“Let’s talk about Loreleia Elhice,” he said three hours ago. “She stole The Eldrystone from me, Valeria. I know you doubt it, but it is the truth.”
My mother stole from the Fae King, barring him from his throne, his people—all along hiding the key to his return.
The meaning smashes into me like a relentless hammer, delivering blow after blow, each one a different truth threatening to shatter me. There are his new lies and betrayal, but the worst… the dawning horror that the fae have been without their ruler for over two decades.
I try to envision Castella without Father at the helm for all that time, and I can only picture chaos.
The initial reaction would have been raw panic. First, the desperation to find the missing king, hoping to unravel his disappearance. As the days went by, fear would have gripped the kingdom, whispers of abduction and murder swirling in the air. Then those bound by loyalty would have fiercely guarded his throne, clinging to the hope of his return. But as that hope dwindled, a grim reality would have set in, and the questionof “if he comes back”would have morphed into “who will succeed him.” Ambition would have raised its ugly head then, and at last, power struggles would have erupted, the rightful heir’s claim challenged by those consumed by greed.
Father did his best to keep us in the dark about the Theric dynasty, and I never understood his reasons until now. From the scant knowledge I was able to acquire before we left Nido, I know that Korben Theric was unwed and had no heirs, which means the fae throne would have become a glittering prize for power-hungry nobles. And then what? Infighting, cruel alliances, murder, anything to seize control.
I can only imagine his desperation and impotence at the thought of his kingdom unraveling at the seams in his absence. It would have been a torment he couldn’t escape.
Yet, despite understanding what he has been through, it is his betrayal and lies I feel more keenly along with the questions that still stand unanswered even after everything we’ve been through.
He tried to explain, Valeria. He did, but…
Calierin’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Forgive me, my king. Never in my wildest dreams could I have guessed who you truly are. I wish to atone for my mistake. Please accept me as your humble servant. I am a Tuathacath warrior, and my order has always served our realm proudly. From today till the day I die, you have my loyalty and my sword.”
Rífíor says nothing—no, not Rífíor. Every guise he has worn required a different name, a different lie.
King Korben Theric says nothing. He only regards Calierin with magnanimity.
Calierin moves suddenly, jumping to her feet and walking toward the tree where The Eldrystone hangs.
“No! Let it be,” I command, but she doesn’t listen.
Instead, with a powerful push, she launches herself off the ground, using the tree trunk as a springboard to propel her even higher. Soaring effortlessly, she snatches the amulet, unhooking it from the branch, before landing gracefully in front of Ríf… Kor…. No! I can’t think of him with this new name. I simply can’t.
Bowing, she cradles the amulet in both hands and presents it to her king.
Rífíor’s jaw twitches as he regards her and the amulet with a mixture of emotions I can’t decipher. At last, he takes it with a curtthank you.
