Page 58 of Echoes of the Raven
“I did.”
“Figures. Don’t let that old crone get inside your head,” he warns. “She may look like a sweet doña, but she has some strange philosophies like that one about fate and destiny. I’ve heard it before. “Give purpose to your life and shape your destiny, or succumb to fate’s whims,” he says in a high-pitched tone meant to sound like Nana.“Pshaw, I’m not a victim of your destiny. If anything… I’m part of it.” He looks around. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Back to my bedchamber?”
“Why?”
“I need currency.”
He thinks for a moment, then makes a face, indicating he has an idea of what I intend to do with said currency.
After visiting my bedchamber, we hasten back to the waiting room where Jago left Esmeralda and Gaspar. Following a slight knock on the door, we walk in and find Esmeralda standing in front of a large tapestry hanging from the wall. It depicts a battle-ready regiment beneath a graying sky.
Esmeralda and Gaspar look out of place in the austere room, their vibrant traditional garb clashing against the muted backdrop. But despite the contrast, they exude an air of dignity and grace, their presence a reminder of the rich world outside these walls.
Esmeralda’s fierce green eyes scan me up and down. “Glad to see you have recovered,Princess.”
I thank her despite the antagonizing tone of her voice. Gaspar is more respectful, inclining his head and offering a soft greeting.
Matching his deference, I also incline my head, then walk closer and offer him my hand. He looks at it hesitantly for a moment, but in the end, he takes it. I cover it with my other hand and look him straight in the eyes.
“I want to thank you for your help in the catacombs,” I say.
At the mention of the catacombs, an image of damp walls flashes before my eyes, and a sharp scream echoes in my ears. I take a deep breath, pushing the memories away. It takes effort to keep them at bay, but I won’t allow them to grow and fester. I need to focus. I can’t let anything distract me.
“It was the least I could do for a… friend,” Gaspar, El Gran Místico, says.
“Oh, please,” Esmeralda tosses her black curly hair behind her shoulder, her large array of bracelets tinkling. “We got offered money to find her. She’s not our friend.”
I turn to the Romani woman. “Which you did not take, I’m told.”
She shrugs as if it means nothing.
“I believe it’s only fair that you should be compensated for your efforts,” I say, “and such compensation wouldn’t preclude friendship, I assure you. I have much to thank you for. Twice, you have helped me.”
“Once, I have betrayed you,” Esmeralda replies.
From the way she’s looking at me, I can tell she’s remembering sitting inside that cell, the day I intended to make her pay for said betrayal. She was contrite then, but she is back to her feisty self.
“Danger lurks. Ready yourself,” she said to me—a warning from Gaspar that matched Bastien’s… Rífíor’s, and that presaged Orys’s attack.
“All’s well that ends well,” I say.
“Is it?” she asks, eyes flicking toward Gaspar.
“Pardon me, Princess,” the bearded Romani says, “but I sense not all is well.”
Of course, he does. Perhaps his cards told him things are about to change. Perhaps that is why their troop is leaving Castellina.
“Yourperceptionproves right once again, El Gran Místico,” I say.
Jago clears his throat and glares at me, the questionwhat are you doing?stamped all over his face. I give him a slight nod to indicate I know what I’m doing. He frowns and shakes his head in disagreement. Still, I decide to confide in them.
“We need your help,” I say.
Gaspar’s expression hardens.
One of Esmeralda’s dark eyebrows goes up, betraying her interest. “What is it this time?”
