Page 39 of Echoes of the Raven
“No, it’s perfect.”
“If length doesn’t matter then you—” I begin.
Jago interrupts me. “Speak for yourself. I thinklengthdoes matter, almost as much as girth.”
I laugh, and I think it’s the first time since I’ve been back.
He winks, satisfied with himself.
I take a sip of wine, then say, “All I was going to say is that you should add your name to the title. You also played a part.”
“Pshaw, all I did was fetch Cuervo, and even that chicken played a bigger role than me.”
I shake my head. “You’re my partner in crime. Without you, I wouldbe lost.”
He considers for a moment, then nods. “True.” He refills his glass and clinks it to mine. “Here’s to my partner in crime, my cousin from another dungeon! Together, we’ve committed acts so legendary, even the bards can’t sing their glory. We navigate the treacherous waters of mischief like a pair of swashbuckling pirates—except our treasure chests are filled with laughter and our swords are… er… made of cheese.” He pops a piece of Manchego into his mouth.
I laugh once more. This time more heartedly, then clear my throat and do my own toast. “To the one who always has my back, even when we’re running from angry bastardos in disguise. May our schemes be as endless as the excuses you come up with…”
“Hey!” he protests.
I go on. “And may our adventures be as wild as the time we convinced Nana that we didn’t injure our fingers while juggling daggers. Here’s to us, allies in absurdity!”
We laugh, holding our stomachs and pounding the table. It almost feels like old times, but I sober up too quickly, fearing I have no right to merriment—not when I consider what Amira is planning to do to our fae neighbors.
“It’ll get easier,” Jago says, noticing my change in expression. “Memories will fade.”
I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to, Father’s death, Bastien’s betrayal, the fact that I killed someone, or the torture I endured in the catacombs, but maybe I’ve quickly made my peace with all those things because I’m more worried about what’s to come than what lies behind.
“So what’s your real plan to get Don Justo off my back?” I ask, knowing I have to get this one problem out of the way before I tackle any others.
“All right,” Jago begins, “You might’ve noticed all the attention he was getting during the ball. The bloke is good-looking. You have to admit.”
I move my head from side to side, considering this. It’s hard to be objective because when I consider Don Justo in his entirety, his abrasive personality overshadows whatever good looks he may possess. His every dashing smile becomes chilling, and the sparkle in his blue eyes seems malicious.
Jago bats a hand. “Even if you can’t admit it, every other woman present at the ball noticed. Many looked positively green with envy.”
“So?”
“So one of them was Gran Duquesa Sara Plumanegra.”
I narrow my eyes, thoughts speeding and tripping over Jago’s insinuation. “Are you suggesting that supercilious Sara should marry Don Justo?”
He gives me a huge smile and nods, looking proud of himself.
“She would never agree to marry a man without a title. Or any man, for that matter. She thinks everyone is leagues below her.”
“Except you and Amira. She has always been jealous of you two. You’re the only ones she’s ever nice to.”
“That’s not true. She is never nice.”
“Like I said, she’s jealous of you and might love the thought of breaking you and Don Justo up.”
“All right, but it’s a big leap to assume she’ll marry him,andthat he’ll agree to take a grand duchess over a princess.”
Jago smiles wickedly. “Who said they would have to agree?”
Still smiling from ear to ear, he explains what he has in mind, and when he’s done telling me everything, I feel sullied.
