Page 101 of House of the Raven
Finally, I lay my head to rest and when sleep finds me, so does a vague dream with the trapping of a nightmare.
The next morning, I’m tired and in a bad mood, but I treat the chambermaids kindly as they help me get into one of my elaborate dresses. I couldn’t do it on my own. I selected one that shows considerable cleavage. I have a feeling it might offer me help with Don Justo.
When they’re done with me, I look like one of the many debutantes who attended Amira’s birthday party ball last year. Excessive ruffles, too much makeup, and too many lacquered curls.
“Perfect,” I tell the girls, making sure to make eye contact with each one of them. They seem eager to do a good job even though I barely know them.
After they leave, I pace alongside my bed. The notion that the most powerful instrument ever created in all the realms is hidden somewhere in the rubble of the old observatory has me on edge. More than once, I have to stop myself from calling Cuervo and asking him to retrieve The Eldrystone. I could use it to unmask Orys and defeat the veilfallen and Los Moros, but I’m terrified. Bringing the amulet back to Nido could be disastrous. I have no idea how to use the jewel’s power, and I fear that my actions will only cause it to fall into the wrong hands.
When it’s time to leave, I walk out of my room and find Bastien there. He was standing in the same spot when I came back from dinner with Nana last night. Did he even move? I examine his face to see if he appears tired, but he looks as fresh as a dewy rose.
“Good morning, princess.” He bows slightly.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say with matching mockery.
Holding my head high, I march down the hall, dreading my meeting with Don Justo.
“Just the way I like to begin each day,” I mumble under my breath.
Bastien appears at my side. “I’m sorry.”
Frowning, I turn to look at him. He sounds and looks sincere. Have all the hells frozen over?
“I shouldn’t add to your already… complicated life,” he says.
“Did someone hit you over the head?”
He blows air through his perfect nose in amusement. “Many times. Hazards of the job.”
“It smells as if you’re calling atruce.”
“You could call it that.”
I narrow my eyes and say nothing. A truce? No, I can’t trust Bastien. This change of heart seems too sudden and convenient—not to mention out of character. It has to be some sort of trick.
He must be following orders from Amira, my most sensible self says inside my head.
But if he failed so many times to do his job, why would she still trust him? Again, I find myself wondering if he is Orys or in league with him. And again, I dismiss the idea because Bastien was there when the sorcerer attacked, and he tried to help Father and me. I rub my left temple as a headache blooms there.
One thing at a time, Val.
Right now, I have to take care of Don Justo.
When I arrive, I take a deep breath and put on my most pleasant face before stepping into the sunroom. My heart pounds with nerves, and I steel myself to face the mysterious man I’ve only been told about.
When Don Justo hears my approach, he shifts his gaze from the beautiful garden view and turns to me.
My expectations shatter, and I blink in surprise at the sight of the man who stands in front of me. I hadn’t trusted the portrait of him I saw in Alsur. I thought it was an exaggeration from the artist, a paid-for commission meant to render him in the best possible light.
But now, looking at him across the food-laden table, I realize that the portrait did absolutely no justice to the man. Don Justo is every bit as handsome as he was depicted and more to boot.
Before me stands a striking figure, his presence commanding every bit of my attention. He possesses a tall and imposing frame, every muscle beneath his clothing chiseled and defined. His sun-kissed blond hair falls in effortless waves, framing an angular face and looking as thick as a lion’s mane. Piercing blue eyes, like shards of cerulean ice, hold a spark of unwavering confidence and a hint of arrogance.
I stand there, feeling intimidated by his raw presence. He may be handsome, but something about him conveys latent savagery. I don’t like the way he’s scanning me from head to toe, making me feel as if he’s going to pounce at any moment.
Involuntarily, I glance askance at Bastien. He stands at attention by the door, and I’m glad of it—a ridiculous notion since he’s also my enemy, isn’t he? Besides, I don’t need him. I know how to defend myself.
“Good morning,” I say, pushing away my bafflement and apprehension.
