Page 66 of Echoes of the Raven
I shrug. “I didn’t think arming you would be wise.”
“I beg to disagree.” He looks around the room, his dark eyes quickly alighting on a sword inside a display case. There are too many in Nido, I realize in frustration. With firm steps, he walks to it and takes it out.
Puta madre!
“This is the only type of supply I need,” he says, effortlessly twirling the weapon with a mastery that seems as natural as drawing breath.
I stare at the blade warily. I should have foreseen this. I want to tell him to leave it, that it doesn’t belong to him, but the sword is also fae-made, a forgotten gift one or another Plumanegra received a long time ago from our once-allies. I can only hope it’ll serve us better in hand than behind glass.
“Don’t worry, Princess,” he says with a smirk. “You are safe with me.”
“As safe as I was in those catacombs?” I sneer.
“You are alive, aren’t you?” He scans me up and down as if to indicate no harm came to me.
But there’s harm that can’t be seen, and sometimes that’s the worst kind. I have managed to keep the nightmares at bay, but it’s not easy. It requires constant effort and vigilance. I miss the days when I could close my eyes and drift away to sleep, surrounded by happy thoughts and memories. Now, thanks to this male, I’ll never have that again. He doesn’t need to know that, though. He and his damn sorceress didn’t break me.
“You’re an asshole, Rífíor of the Veilfallen, but I’m sure you already know that.” I turn, face the bookshelf at the end of the room, and brace my hands against its sides. I push it with all my weight, but it doesn’t click as it’s supposed to.
Annoyed, I turn to Rífíor and say, “You do it.”
With incredible ease, he pushes on it and causes the desired click. One end of the bookshelf swings open like a door, revealing a gloomy passage. I light the gas lamp and charge in, slicing the darkness in two. Rífíor sets the bookshelf back in place without me asking, leaving only the small flame to eliminate our space.
I’m reminded of going through a similar passage with Jago not so long ago. Too bad it isn’t my cousin who accompanies me now. Instead, it’s a male I despise, someone who might slice my throat for the fun of it.
All the questions that have been plaguing me since this plan took shape come back in earnest. What if he escapes and rejoins the veilfallen? What if he takes The Eldrystone from me? What if we fail and I make an enemy of my sister for no reason?
Shaking my head, I dismiss all those thoughts. It’s too late to second-guess myself. From now on, I must be committed and do everything within my power to reach the border and open the veil.
At first, the passage is surrounded by man-made walls, but as we progress, they suddenly transition to natural stone, giving way to the caverns I know rest beneath Nido. The passage grows tight, and Rífíor has to hunch down to avoid hitting his head. Progress is sluggish as we navigate through what could easily be labeled as the palace’s bowels. The passages are narrow and twisted enough to warrant such a description.
It is only thirty minutes later that the path ahead opens up, and we’re able to walk unencumbered. We sit at a crossroads, and I remember well I must walk up the middle slope to reach the exit. Father drilled Amira and I many times about all the secret passages in the palace. He made sure we knew how to traverse each one of them without getting lost. It’s amazing how sturdy the memories still feel inside my mind.
When we reach the end of the slope, we encounter two narrow ledges extending to our left and right. They’re barely wide enough for a single adult to sidle along.
Hanging the rucksack from my neck and repositioning it to my front, I press my back to the wall and take the ledge to the left, arms out for balance. Rífíor gives me a narrowed-eyed look but doesn’t question my actions. Instead, he follows, the tips of his boots protruding from the ledge by about an inch. A thirty-foot drop looms below.
I focus my gaze on the concave ceiling, determined not to think of myself broken and dead at the bottom. Slowly, I shuffle my way to a recess big enough for two. Before I can say anything, Rífíor steps into the space with me, once more pinning meagainst his body.
Saints and feathers! Really?
“I fear you have driven us into a dead end, Princess,” he says, the rumble of his voice directly behind my ear.
“I have not, and you must step back onto the ledge if you want us to get out of here.”
He grunts but doesn’t argue. Once he’s out of the recess, I locate the footholds and handholds embedded in the wall and begin climbing up the vertical channel that extends overhead. It isn’t easy to ascend while holding the gas lamp, but I manage.
Once at the top, moonlight seeps through a metal grate and fresh air whistles down the tunnel. Pressing one shoulder to the grate, I push. It takes a moment to dislodge the obstacle—it’s been in place for a long time without disturbance—but eventually, it comes loose. Relieved, I push it out of the way with my free hand.
Setting the lamp outside, I climb the rest of the way and crawl to a patch of grass where I sit to catch my breath. A moment later Rífíor emerges from the hole and crouches next to the lamp. Quickly, he puts it out and replaces the grate, making as little noise as possible. Tall grass surrounds us. He stretches his neck to look over it, surely to determine our position.
“We’re a good distance from Nido,” he points out.
“Let’s keep going.” I climb to my feet but remain in a crouch.
“I hope you have some sort of plan. Your sister seemed mad and is sure to send guards afterus.”
He sounds slightly amused. No doubt it delights him to find that I’m at odds with Amira.
