Page 97 of House of the Raven
“Need me to come with you?”
“No, though if you’re still willing to help there’s something you can do for me.”
“What is that?”
“It might be unpleasant, but it doesn’t involve Don Justo.”
“Then I’m all ears.”
28
VALERIA
“I’m well aware my kin disapprove, but my love for this human female knows no bounds, and I’m not afraid to proclaim it to all. I will wed her and remain in Castella.”
Padraig Theric – Fae Royal Knight - 2 DV
Before Bastien gets back on my tail, I go in search of Maestro Elizondo. I got the parchment I copied at the library back from Jago. It’s hidden under my corset, safe from prying eyes.
I know my teacher likes to spend his afternoons reading in the south library, a quiet space, far removed from the bustle of the big library in the center of Nido.
When I get there, I find him hunched over a large tome, using a magnifying glass to peruse its contents.
I quickly pull the copied parchment out and smooth it over. The sound of crinkling paper makes him look up. One of his eyes looks comically large through the magnifying glass. I repress a laugh and instead offer him a gentle smile.
“Princess Valeria!” He sets his implement on top of the book and blinks with exaggeration. “What a pleasant surprise for me and thesehumble books.” He gestures at the bookshelves. “And wearing a dress. I forget the last time I saw such a thing.”
“Hello, Maestro Elizondo. It’s so very nice to see you, too.”
He’s a man in his late seventies. The top of his head is bald with white wisps of hair on the sides that extend down to a long beard. He wears robes like a monk, even though he isn’t one. He once told me that when he was young, it was his mother’s desire for him to follow the saints’ path. He had been a faithful, obedient son until he found out that texts other than religious ones would be outside his reach. It was then he decided facing his mother’s wrath was nothing compared to a life that denied him his passion for learning.
At that point, he left the seminary, but not the robes. He said they’re far too comfortable to give up.
“What brings you here, your majesty?” His curious gaze is already fixed on the rolled-up parchment in my hand.
“I was visiting the Biblioteca de la Reina the other day and discovered a small section filled with fae books I’d never seen.”
“Oh yes, the private collection.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Of course, I’ve read every single tome there. It’s impossible to find that many works in the old fae language anywhere else in Castella. I would be remiss not to visit that place. Often.”
He knows I have an interest in the fae, and he never mentioned this collection.
Maybe it’s because they’re all written in Tirgaelach, and you never show interest in his foreign and ancient languages lessons, you idiot.
Going around the table, I unroll the parchment and place it in front of him.
“I was hoping you would translate this for me,” I say, taking a step back and releasing a shaky breath.
My body tingles with nerves. The irrational desire to run out the door assaults me. I fear this is the point of no return and everything hinges on his next words. What I glean from him might propel me into a vast unknown for which I may not be ready. But what other alternative do I have?
Maestro Elizondo’s dark eyes move from side to side. After only a couple of lines, he stops and shakes his head.
“What is it?” My heart jumps into my throat, and I can hardly swallow past the lump.
“This looks like a five-year-old wrote it.” His tone is disappointed, the same one he uses when I turn in my Tirgaelach writing assignments.
