Page 31 of Echoes of the Raven
“Good morning, friend,” I say.
“Treasure?” he croaks, and I swear I see concern in his beady, round eyes.
“The treasure is safe, Cuervo.”
He shakes his head, appearing unsure. “Treasure,” he repeats and flexes his claws, acting as if he’s picking up an imaginary amulet off the bed.
“Safe. I promise.” I smile and try to pet his neck, but he jerks his head to the side and hops to the floor. From there, he watches me with displeasure, then takes flight and leaves through the balcony.
I sit up and watch his dark silhouette get smaller against the blue morning sky as he goes far away from here.
“I don’t like it any more than you do, Cuervo.”
With a heavy sigh, I get out of bed and look around the room. Just hours ago, I was confined to a small, dank underground alcove. I was dirty and hungry and thought I would never see my home again.
Now I’m here, and I feel little to no relief. Father is gone. My sister is unrecognizable and feels leagues away from me, and I have no purpose. Before, I was determined to find Father’s murderer. And at the catacombs, I was willing to die without giving Rífíor what he wanted. It gave me strength.
Today, I care about nothing.
I climb back into bed and go back to sleep.
Several days pass in this fashion. I wake up, bicker with Cuervo about the amulet, and go back to bed. Someone brings food and leaves it on the table by the fireplace. I barely touch it.
Jago pounding on the door and shouting my name wakes me up on the sixth day. I drag myself out of bed and open the door, bleary-eyed. A few steps behind him, two guards ogle me.
“What?” I demand.
My cousin’s eyes widen, and he pushes his way into the room and shuts the door quickly.
“Now the guards know the lovely shade of your nipples,” he says, swiftly finding my robe, tossing it my way, and turning his face to the side.
I glance down and realize my very perky, tanned nipples are visible through my silk gown. I should be embarrassed but find that I don’t give a damn. I stand there, arms limp at my sides.
“Well, are you going to put the robe on?” Jago watches from the corner of his eye.
“Fine.” I throw it on, tie it, then collapse into an armchair by the fireplace. There is a cup of cold tea accompanied by pastries.
Hands on hips, he peers at me down his nose. “It’s past noon.”
“And?”
“Um, aren’t you hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
“Bored?”
“No, Jago. I just want to sleep.”
He has come to visit me every day, though I turned him away half the time.
Kneeling in front of me, he takes my hand in his. “Are you… dispirited? I think you are.”
“I’m fine.” I extricate my hand and stand.
