Page 122 of House of the Raven
Where is she?
I start running in that direction, but Jago grabs my arm and stops me.
“No! Look.” He points with his chin.
More veilfallen are pouring into the ballroom, all hooded and armed. Where are the royal guards? Why aren’t they here fighting? Have they already been defeated?
“We have to get out of here, Val.” Jago starts pulling me toward a side door.
I shake my head. “I have to find Amira. I have to help her.”
“And how are you going to do that?” He looks at me as if I’ve gone crazy.
The place is crawling with the veilfallen. I’m wearing a stupid dress, and I don’t have a weapon. I don’t have anything. Except…
I grab Jago’s forearms and pull him close. “Go to my bedchamber, call Cuervo, and tell him to get the necklace for me.”
“What? The Eldrystone? I thought you lost it. You lied?”
“I don’t have time to explain, please.”
Jago’s face twists into a grimace. “That may not be the best idea.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“We can run.”
“No, we can’t. Just do it!” I beg. “I can’t leave Amira.”
“What is a necklace going—?”
I cut him off. “Go and do what I said. NOW!”
Without waiting for an answer or protest, I take off running toward the staircase. That was the last place where I saw Amira, my sister, who I now know, without a doubt, is under the influence of that bastardo sorcerer.
She couldn’t possibly be in possession of The Eldrystone. That raven swarm was a deceitful ploy unworthy of Niamhara and the ancestral espiritu the Plumanegras once held. There’s only one plausible explanation for the deceptive ruse meant to fool the entire court: Orys orchestrated it.
My dressswishesaround me, cutting my steps short. I walk around a body, then backtrack as I realize it’s a guard.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, removing his rapier. It gives that satisfying metallic whisper that always boosts my confidence.
I rush awkwardly up the steps, jumping over debris, hoping my dress doesn’t catch. When I reach the top, I notice Emerito crouching behind one of the marble columns that frame the landing. I rush to his side.
“Where is Amira?” I demand.
He looks at me in a strange way and slowly rises to his full height, never breaking eye contact.
“You’re too late to save her.” His eyes flash, and in one blink, they change color, going from brown to cold, clouded gray.
I take a step back. Slowly, his features morph, giving way to Orys’s grotesque, twisted countenance. His drooping mouth attempts something like a smile.
Without hesitation, I raise my rapier and lunge, aiming for his middle. With an effortless wave of his hand, he sends me flying backward. As my bottom hits the floor, the sword clatters down the steps, and I keep moving, sliding along with terrible momentum. My back collides against something soft that lets out anumph.
Head swimming from the impact of Orys’s espiritu, I sit up and look back at what I hit. Amira lies in a heap, the whites of her eyes showing, her face peppered in sweat and the black makeup running down.
I whirl and kneel in front of her. “Amira!”
She gives no sign that she knows I’m here.
