Page 73 of House of the Raven
How is he here? This has to be a nightmare.
Wake up, Val. Wake up!
The doorknob rattles. I head straight for the back window and throw it open. I start climbing out just as the door bursts into splinters, and two members of the Guardia Real rush in. I land outside in a crouch, but it’s too late. A shadowy figure already hovers over me.
“Hello, princess.” Bastien’s deep timbre washes over me, sending a chill across my back.
Slowly, I stretch to my full height and meet his eyes.
“Your husband-to-be is very displeased,” he adds. “He has even come to Castellina to fetch you himself.”
My fists clench.
“You’re relentlessandresourceful. I’ll give you that,” he says. “But you should know better than to keep Romani for company.”
Esmeralda sold me out. She knew my true identity all along. She brought me all the way to Castella just to do this. And I naïvely believed everything she said to me. I really thought she was my friend. My heart aches at the betrayal.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Father was right. People can’t be trusted.
Everyone is out for themselves. No matter how nicely they treat you, how many smiles they bestow upon you, in the pursuit of their own interests, they will betray you, cheat you, lie to you. Like a hungry beast, treachery lingers in the shadows of trust, something my youthful innocence didn’t allow me to see.
Father, did you have to endure such harsh lessons to grasp this truth?
I try to spit on Bastien’s face, but I only reach the top of his leather armor. He doesn’t even bother to look down or clean the saliva from the breastplate. Instead, he grabs my arm and drags me around the little house to the front, where a windowless carriage awaits.
I fight him, kicking and scrambling. “Esmeralda! You rat. You’ll pay for this. I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.” A growl of frustration leaves my chest. I know she’s watching this, same as the other troop members, who are peeking out through their windows.
Literally lifting me off the ground, Bastien throws me into the carriage. I pound on the door as he slams it shut. I rattle the handle, but it’s locked. I try the other side. The same. This can’t be happening, not after all my efforts to get free. I’m back where I started.
“Mount,” Bastien orders outside.
The carriage starts moving, clattering as it rolls over the uneven dirt road. I pound and pound on the door to no avail. Tears of rage slide down my cheeks.
Bastien and Esmeralda will pay for this. I don’t know how, but one day, I’ll make them regret treating me this way. Esmeralda thinks she’s better than the rich people she robs, but she isn’t. She’s worse. She’s a backstabber and betrayed me for a handful of coins, no more. She sold me like a pound of meat at the market. Well, she better watch herself from now on because, somehow, I’ll get that pound of flesh back.
When my arms are numb from pounding on the carriage walls, I sit and rake my fingers into my hair. My scalp is sweaty and dirty. I can smell myself, and I feel disgusting.
I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way.
Amira can force me all the way up to the altar, but I’ll never willingly marry anyone. The only answer the priest will get out of me is a fist to his groin, the same as Don Justo. And after that, they’ll all pay: Bastien, Esmeralda, Orys, even Amira, if it comes to that.
21
VALERIA
“They can keep their wooden saints, but they will follow our laws.”
Abu al-Mohads - Caliph of Carduba - 77 BV
Soon we leave the dirt road and we’re back on the cobbled streets. The carriage still rattles, but the ride is slightly smoother. I imagine Bastien thrusting me in front of my sister and perhaps Don Justo, if he is truly here in Castellina. It will be humiliating, but it doesn’t matter what they do or say, I’ll make their lives a living hell if they force me to do anything I don’t want to do.
At least, I will see Nana. I wouldn’t mind one of her tender embraces, and the soothing sound of her sweet voice. And Jago… I’ll see Jago as well, right?
I wonder where Cuervo is. If he’d been near, he might have been able to warn me of Bastien’s presence, but I can’t blame him for enjoying that which I don’t have: his freedom. As long as he’s all right, that’s all that matters, though.
A deafening sound explodes all around me as something crashes against the carriage and sends it lurching to the side. I slide down the bench as the vehicle teeters precariously, then tilts and begins its descent down what feels like a steep slope. Arms and legs twisting into knots,I go tumbling, careening from the floor to the side, then to the ceiling and back again. My ears are assailed by the splintering of wood and the agonized screams of men and horses.
