Page 122 of Echoes of the Raven
Rífíor runs a hand through his hair, an ocean of frustration in his sigh. “Fine. Your exile is lifted. You may go back to Tirnanog.”
Galen perks up. “Aaaand?”
“I do not know. What more could you possibly want?”
“My old post back.”
“What?!” Rífíor asks incredulously. “You think I would bring a known traitor back into my inner circle?”
“And I also want you to stop calling me that.”
What the male is asking doesn’t seem unreasonable—not considering the reward.
I step forward to take control of the situation. “And if he does what you demand, you will give us The Eldrystone?”
Galen raises one eyebrow. “I will givehimThe Eldrystone. He’s the rightful owner, milady. Not you.” He bows with exaggeration.
“The rightful owner. The Fae King,” Jago whispers in awe. “Saints and feathers!”
Ignoring Jago, I nudge Rífíor’s arm. “He isn’t asking for much. Considering.”
“What a smart princess you’ve got there,Rífíor.” Galen mocks the name.
I can’t bring myself to call him Korben. Or King Theric. Or whatever else he goes by. So Rífíor it is.
“Fine,” Rífíor growls with irritation. “You can be the Master of Magic again.”
“And?”
“And I won’t call you a traitor.”
“You swear?”
“Why are you being such a child?!” Rífíor demands.
“Do. You. Swear?”
“I swear. For fuck’s sake!”
“Very good. You can have it.” Without warning, Galen tosses the amulet. It sails through the air, the chain trailing behind like a comet’s tail.
I’m tempted to snatch it out of the air, but I press my hands to my sides and refrain. Rífíor catches it, and as his fingers close around it, his expression seems troubled rather than relieved.
Galen dusts his hands. “Now that’s settled… let’s go. No time better than the present to open the veil. Faoloir’s bollocks! I can’t wait! The first thing I’ll do is drink twenty bottles of feyglen.” He points at Rífíor and winks. “Wanna join?”
Rífíor shakes his head and places the amulet around his neck, hiding it under his shirt. It ishis, however, and when he asked for it back, I didn’t give it to him. Of course, he doesn’t trust me now. A bitter pang shoots across my chest. Something occurs to me: What if he has regained access to The Eldrystone’s power? Has Niamhara decided to return her favor to him? That bitter pang intensifies, but there’s another feeling that overshadows it.
Fear.
Fear of what he might do after what he heard from Enrique.
The events the guardia recounted are nothing short of a nightmare. Deep down, I still hoped Amira’s consciousness would reawaken once faced with the final decisions of her cruel plan, but she has truly lost her way. What she’s doing is unforgivable. The veilfallen have been at war with us for a lot less. I shudder to think what horrors their leader might be concocting in his mind at this very moment, a brewing tempest of vengeance. A part of me fears his wrath, another part wonders if we deserve it.
Yet, my loyalty lies with my people, not his.
“I think we should rest,” Rífíor says.
“Rest?” Galen sounds as if Rífíor has suggested self-immolation.
