Page 54 of Echoes of the Raven
Amira interjects. “There aren’t many who still possess those abilities, and this document,” she places her hand on the many pieces of parchment stacked in front of her, “outlines procedures that will helpwith those eventualities, should they arise. Perhaps, you should read it, Valeria.”
“Yes, I haven’t read it, but I still don’t think it is what Castella needs,” I say. “If we do this, it isn’t something we can take back. A year from now, we can’t sayoh, sorry, we made a mistake, go back on your merry way. Those who don’t hate us now will surely hate us then.”
My eyes rove around the long table, holding everyone’s gaze for an instant. I’m met with more hostility than I would like. It seems few are opposed to Amira’s plan.
“If we do this, we might be committing to years upon years of oppression, a burden we may have to pass on to future generations.” I stare squarely at Amira at this. She may be willing to let hatred shape her life, but what about her children? Has she considered what their lives would be like growing up with this kind of burden?
I notice a slight tightening of her eyes, and for a moment, I think I’ve said the right thing, but then her expression hardens once more.
“At least,” she says, “the chance that we’ll be there to advise them and support them will be higher.”
In those words, I perceive the brunt of her pain, the fierce way she misses Father. And for the first time, I realize that she must mourn him far more deeply than I do. It’s not that our love for him is not the same. It’s that ever since Amira was old enough to sit still and listen, she was by his side. It was her duty to learn and grow into the ruler Castella needed. Wherever Father was, Amira could be found, taking notes, whispering reminders in his ear, sharing meals and tea breaks, laughing at a joke only they understood.
Then one day, she woke up from a nightmare of Orys’s making and found Father gone, unable to offer the advice and support she now needs.
Desperately holding onto my last bit of hope, I glance around the table once more. I perceive no change in anyone. I’ve done too little… too late.
“Now that you’ve had your say,” Amira smiles condescendingly, “may we proceed?”
I sit back down, defeated.
Even before the votes are tallied, I know the result. What I didn’t count on was the weak opposition the council offered. There were only four votes against Amira’s proposal, and it’s obvious who cast them: Bishop Benedicto, Ministra Aquina, Condesa Clavel, and me.
Gods!How did we get here?
Perhaps, this was the way it would always turn out. Perhaps two fundamentally different races living in harmony is an impossibility. Our differences were never meant to be surmounted. Compromise was never an option. Clearly, I’ve been fighting the wrong battle, and there is only one solution.
The fae must return to Tirnanog.
22
VALERIA
“The wind of fate blows all ships, but the captain steers his own course.”
Old Castellan Proverb
As we leave the council room, Amira grabs me by the elbow and pulls me aside. She waits for everyone to walk out of earshot then hisses in my face.
“How dare you oppose me so publicly?” she demands. “We talked about this, and you knew my position well.”
“I’m sorry, Amira, but I felt it was my responsibility to speak my mind.”
“For what little good it did. All you’ve managed to do is let everyone know you don’t stand with me. I thought we could do this together. I thought we could be a family, but since Mother died, you always set yourself apart from Father and me. You always stood on the wrong side of who we are.”
I yank my elbow from her grasp. “Who we are?” My chest starts heaving. “There are no sides.”
“Of course, there are. You live in Castella, not Tirnanog. Mother filled your head with nonsense. That realm is out of our reach, and it willforever remain that way, so it would serve you right to embrace what is real—not some fantasy land you will never see.”
I shake my head. She’s wrong. Iwillsee Tirnanog. I have always believed that. My every daydream growing up started with the miraculous reopening of the veil. Countless times, I imagined espiritu flowing back into Castella and reigniting the shifting skills passed down to our family from our fae ancestors. And in those dreams, Father, Amira and I conquered the sky together, black wings beating at the rhythm of our hearts, the thrill of who we really are coursing through our veins.
Amira scans my face, then snorts with forced amusement, likely seeing my hopes etched in my expression.
“You have always been a hopeless dreamer.” She shakes her head and takes a few steps back. “I hope you will come around. If you want to sit by my side to help me create a better future for Castella, I will be glad to have you. I dearly hope you will reconsider your position.”
Golden brown hair and olive dress whipping, Amira turns and walks away, her back straight, her steps firm. Renata waits for her down the hall and immediately pushes a stack of papers into Amira’s hands, rattling instructions about the rest of the day.
I walk away, temples pounding, feeling the weight of my responsibilities pressing down on me like an anvil atop my head. Amira already sees my dissent as a betrayal. What will she think when she finds out I’ve taken The Eldrystone?
