Page 126 of House of the Raven
“Don’t let that feeling deceive you,” River says. “It can be a treacherous thing.”
The surety in his tone gives me pause. How does he know what I’m feeling?
“Are you willing to take that risk with your sister’s life?” he asks.
I glance up at Amira, who is nothing more than a floating small doll with a terrified visage.
I don’t have to listen to him.All I need to do is bring her down, and then I can take care of all these intruders. They will pay for daring to invade my home.
Bring her down, I think to the amulet.
Nothing happens. Amira remains pressed to the ceiling, helpless and afraid.
I try again and again with the same result.
My gaze falls on Orys. It was so easy to undo him, but this… this is different.
“Give me the amulet, and I will let her go,” River says, and I hear a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he knows I’ve just failed.
He takes a step closer, hand outstretched. “I’ll make it easy for you. Toss it.”
“No.”
“Then she will die.” He points a careless finger upward.
“If she dies, we all die,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“I’m not afraid of death, little princess. Do as you will.”
Little Princess.
Little Princess.
Little Princess.
There’s a tremor in my chest. Something in his voice has released a terrible foreboding feeling inside me, a feeling I choose to ignore.
“If you want it, come and take it.” I hold my hand up, though I don’t release my tight grip on the amulet.
Little Princess.
Little Princess.
Little Princess.
He comes closer, but not close enough. His eyes are still obscured by the heavy hood.
“You must really want it,” I taunt, resisting the urge to break him like I did Orys.
If I do, his lackey will drop Amira. I’m sure of it. What I’m not sure about is if the amulet would break her fall when I call on it. I can’t risk her life. I need certainty.
River takes a few more steps and stops a short distance from me.
I can finally see his eyes. The first thing that I notice is the scar etching its way across the left side of his face. It emerges from beneath the cowl,slashing a jagged path over his dark brow and tanned eyelid, before vanishing once more beneath the concealing fabric.
The scar is distracting enough. It makes me wonder where it starts and where it ends. It makes me wonder how he got it. Was it a sword? A dagger? Animal claws? I have to tear my mind away from all those questions to really pay attention to those black eyes.
It gets harder to breathe. My stomach clenches, and bile rises to my throat, burning like hot coals.
