Page 74 of House of the Raven
There is a loud splash, and the carriage starts filling with water.
Oh, gods!
I stand on the ceiling of the carriage, my boots half-soaked. We have rolled into the Manzanar River. It’s the only explanation. The river travels west to east across Castellina and must be crossed to get to Nido.
Fear bubbles inside my chest. The carriage will sink, and I’ll drown. Maybe this was the plan all along, to get rid of me.
I start pounding on the door again, crying out for help. I watch the water closely, expecting it to rise, but it doesn’t.
My relief lasts for only an instant, then the door is thrown open and a figure wearing a heavy cowl that reveals a set of dark eyes—one of them scarred—stands outside.
River. The veilfallen leader!
He grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me out of the overturned cabin. Without a preamble, he throws me over his shoulder and runs.
I kick and pound my fists against his back. “Let me go. Let me go!”
How is he here? What is going on? A horse kicks weakly, stirring the water. He’s lying on his side. The poor animal will drown. Someone should help him, but the men lie sprawled on the river bank, moaning.
I keep fighting. I buck and jerk from side to side as hard as I can.
River grunts as he rearranges his hold on me. “Stop or I’ll knock you out,” he rumbles as he turns the corner into a narrow street.
He runs up the road with that speed the fae have. I peer down the length of the distance we’ve traversed, hoping to see one of the royal guards coming to my aid, but there’s no one. I’d prefer to face a human guard any day than contend with a fae, let alone River of the veilfallen.
I continue struggling, even as my limbs grow weak and my hope drowns. I can only imagine what the veilfallen want with me, and none of the things that come to mind are any good.
River weaves through the labyrinthine streets and alleys, causing my head to spin and leaving me disoriented. I have no idea in what part of Castellina we are anymore.
Eventually, he enters a three-story building and shuts the door behind him. It dawns on me that my cries for help have fallen on deaf ears. No one ventured to assist me, all choosing to remain safely behind closed doors, unwilling to endanger themselves. Does this mean Castellina has descended into lawlessness? Does it imply that the night belongs entirely to the criminals?
Father feared that our capital city would become such a place. Were all his efforts in vain?
River swings me down, and the room turns. My stomach convulses, and I vomit. He jumps backward to avoid getting my sick on his boots. Collapsing to my knees, I empty the rest of my dinner onto the floor. The rancid scent of stomach acid stings my nose. I push away and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
The room we’re in is dilapidated, furnished with broken chairs and layers of dust. River stands silhouetted against the moonlight that cuts through a small, broken window. His shoulders are wide and so is his stance.
“Valeria Plumanegra, you are a hard person to track,” he says, his voice calm and those dark eyes watching me closely through the small slit in his cowl.
Slowly, I rise to my feet, eyes roving around the room, searching for an exit.
“You won’t get away this time, princess,” he says.
“How is your leg?” I glance down at the place where I stabbed him.
Fae heal quickly on their own. Most of the time, they don’t even get scars, not unless the attack is magical in one way or another, which makes me wonder about the scar across his eye. Did he get it here or in Tirnanog? He looks to be in his late twenties, but for all I know, he’s hundreds of years old. Some fae can live to be a thousand. I can’t even fathom what that must be like.
He ignores my question. The fact that he carried me here at full pelt is answer enough. He pulls out a dagger and aims it at me. I take a step back and hit the wall. I’ll give him a matching scratch in his other eye if he comes closer. Before I can even move, he’s on me, hard body flush against mine, the tip of the dagger at my jugular.
His free hand travels the length of my body, over my breasts, my rear, between my legs. A flush of embarrassment heats my neck, my cheeks, even my ears.
He steps away, and I lash out, growling. “Animal!”
Why didn’t he ask if I was carrying any weapons? He didn’t have to paw me up and down. Not that I would have told him if I did.
“What do you want with me?” I don’t want to be on my way to Nido with Bastien, but I would rather not be in the clutches of yet another bastardo.
“I don’t mean you harm,” he says, lifting his hands to show me they’re empty. “I just want to talk.” I find his calm demeanor infuriating. The man has ice in his veins.
