Page 102 of Echoes of the Raven
I nod. “It was her words, her curse, that caused all of this. So yes,shetrapped us here.”
She shakes her head, shunning my words.
“She hated me,” I add. “She would have said anything to hurt me, and she knew that condemning me to a life away from Tirnanog would be the worst type of punishment. She also took away my magic. It’s the reason I can’t conjure a glamour.”
The words of Loreleia’s curse echo in my ears.
You are a monster. You deserve what Saethara did to you and worse. I curse you to live without magic. I curse you to never be able to return home, to always be alone, and to never find love. So be it.
I cannot bring myself to tell Valeria more, and the lie of omission—the reason why Loreleia did not want me to go back to Tirnanog and condemned me to a life without love— burns in my throat.
I sit quietly, scanning Valeria’s face, trying to find the smallest indication that she believes me. It is crucial that she does, though as she speaks, I am reminded that it will not be an easy task to convince her.
“No,” she protests, shaking her head. “My mother would have never cut herself off from her home. She missed her family deeply, every day, every hour. She longed to go back.”
“No more than I do, I assure you.”
Anger etches Valeria’s features, and I know I said the wrong thing, so I quickly amend myself.
“The words of her curse were not precise. They were vague. She wantedmeto suffer. She wanted to barmefrom my home—not bar herself and others as you point out. Nonetheless, this is what happened. From the day that I…” I trail off, unable to bear it all. “The Eldrystone seems to have a mind of its own. Loreleia might have not meant to strand us all here, but I am beginning to suspect Niamhara has a different plan.”
She does not argue about this point. It is clear, she has noticed how temperamental the amulet has been. She lowers her eyes and stares at the floor. I can tell she’s thinking, her sharp mind quickly and efficientlypondering every detail I have provided, weighing each against what she already knows.
In a moment, her mind will be full of questions, questions I do not want to answer, even though I told myself I was ready to do so. I am not.
I am not!
Abruptly, I stand, burdened by the weight of countless years spent evading my past. I have never run from a battle. I have always faced the sword with equanimity and valor, but Valeria’s judgment… I cannot face. Like a coward, I marched out of the room, ready to drown these awful memories. I never should have unearthed them.
40
VALERIA
“Tonight, I will dance the night away around the bonfire.”
María Salazar - Badajos Resident - 21 AV
“Wait! Where are you going?” I reach out a hand toward the door as Rífíor exits, leaving me alone in the room with a thousand newly sprouted questions that demand an answer. “Come back,” I call as I attempt to stand, but pain brings me up short.
I press a hand to my side, groaning. It takes me a moment to get to my feet and walk to the door. Holding my wound gingerly, I peer into the hall, but there is no sign of Rífíor.
It’s evident it was hard for him to dredge up the past. I’ve never seen him so upset, never thought he could look so vulnerable—not when strength and indifference are his defining characteristics. This was not the person I know. This was someone else entirely.
And it’s the main reason I’m inclined to believe him.
The whole story seems ludicrous, even as I recall his strained expression as he related it to me. Mother wasn’t a vengeful person. The idea that she devised a curse seems nothing but far-fetched. Unless…
Unless there was an exceptionally good reason.
The very thing that Rífíor doesn’t want to talk about, which is what I’ve suspected all along.
Holding my side, I take several steps back and sit at the edge of the bed, wondering ifIwant to talk about it, if knowing what drove Mother to curse Rífíor will also push me to my limits.
My mind races, attempting to piece together the puzzle. Rífíor stole The Eldrystone. Could he have taken a life to accomplish it? Perhaps he even murdered the rightful owner, the Fae King. I shake my head, overwhelmed by the possibilities. Maybe he didn’t commit a murder, but surely only a grave transgression could have provoked Mother’s drastic measures.
If he killed someone, I have no right to judge him. I’ve killed, too. And after all this time, it’s possible that he has had time to reflect and regret his actions. Perhaps Mother’s punishment had its intended effect.
No, not Mother’s punishment. Niamhara’s.
