Page 69 of Echoes of the Raven
“What is he talking about?” Rífíor asks in his deep voice and that tone that assumes everyone should stop whatever they’re doing to answer him. It’s infuriating.
“Big, but not too bright, eh?” Gaspar wrinkles his nose, and I love him for the comment because it clearly infuriates Rífíor, though he tries to hide it.
Jago snorts, which only adds to Rífíor’s aggravation.
To disguise his annoyance, he cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes as he examines Gaspar’s ears. “Your glamour is weak. Your ears are showing.”
“Bah,” he bats a hand in the air, “you can see it ‘cause you’re fae. Human eyes never see past the spell. Me, I’m just a quarter fae. That’s where my espiritu comes from, along with these fancy points.” He gestures to his ears, then switches his attention to me. “Did you make it out smooth-like?”
“Not as smooth as I would have liked,” I say. “Guardias were alerted about us sooner than anticipated.”
Gaspar scratches his beard. “That isn’t good. I was hoping we’d have a chance to put some ground between us and Castellina.”
“I know.” I nod. “But I guess it’s all the same. They would’ve come after us one way or another, and sooner or later, we would be making use of…” The words slip away, and it takes me a moment to wrangle them. “Um… your hiding place.”
“What hiding place?” Rífíor asks.
I glare at him in the same way he did earlier, suggesting that he’s an idiot, dumber than a nail.
“That one, right there.” I point out the sliding panel, which is still open.
Rífíor rubs the back of his neck, a deep frown cutting across his forehead. He’s surely wondering how he forgot about it so quickly, and I see the moment he understands the way Gaspar’s espiritu works.
Proving he’s no dumb nail, Rífíor asks something I hadn’t thought about. “How are we going to know to hide when we keep forgetting the place even exists?”
“That’s why you have me.” Gaspar taps his chest.
Rífíor looks skeptical. “Who is to say you are always going to be around?”
“You better hope I am.”
“Esmeralda can help, too,” Jago puts in.
“And so can everyone else in the troop, once they catch wind that you three are here. My espiritu is trained to not affect the troop,” Gaspar says. “I reckon it’s time for you to slap on that glamour, Rífíor of the Veilfallen. Best keep it hush-hush that we’re sheltering Castella’s most wanted fae.”
There is a slight change in Rífíor’s expression at the mention of his glamour. Is it because he thinks seeing him as Bastien will send me into a fit of hysterics?
“Also, hide the scar,” Gaspar adds, pointing at the right side of Rífíor’s face.
We all wait for him to don his glamour, but as we stare, nothing happens.
“Oh, so you’re going to be difficult?” Jago asks. “Fantástico!”
Reluctantly, Rífíor opens his mouth to speak. “I can’t put on a glamour. I have no magic.”
We all exchange confused glances. Fae always have enough magic for a glamour. Besides, we already know he can disguise himself. What’s the point of lying?
“What kind of bullshit is that?” my cousin asks.
“Idon’thave magic, all right?” Rífíor growls, loud, angry. “Calierin used her skill to round my ears and make my scar disappear.”
“Who the hell is Calierin?” Jago asks.
“His torturing bitch,” I reply.
My cousin’s hand tightens into a fist, making his leather glove creak.
Gaspar shakes his head. “I’m only part fae and still got enough espiritu to pull off a glamour and more. Never heard of a fae without the knack for changing their looks.”
