Page 22 of House of the Raven
That infernal thrumming grew impossibly stronger. But the warmth that had enveloped me seemed to guard me against its effects. I no longer felt dizzy. Instead, I felt certain and empowered.
Heedlessly, Father lunged in the sorcerer’s direction, a hoarse battle cry ripping from his throat.
What happened next I would never forget.
I lifted a little hand toward Father and said, “No.”
The word was a command, and it was accompanied by a wave that rippled outward from my chest. As it traveled, it emitted its own thrumming, though it was quite different from the intruder’s. Whereas his espiritu sounded like the elongated pounding of a hammer, what poured out of me was like the melody of a gentle violin.
Father came to a sudden stop, his foot hovering in the air. He was frozen, suspended. His blue eyes swiveled in their sockets, filling with panic.
Like Father, the sorcerer’s espiritu also stopped. The room went blessedlysilent as the horrible pounding came to a halt. The light around the male dimmed, and what had only been a silhouette up until now, solidified into a tall figure dressed in a long brown robe.
A pair of cold gray eyes stared at me from a handsome fae face.
The juxtaposition of evil and beauty was unsettling. As a child, I’d been accustomed to pretty things being good, or at least harmless. But I immediately realized how mistaken I had been.
Beauty can be sharp and lethal.
Cocking his head to one side, the sorcerer watched me with undisguised interest. “What do we have here?” His gaze scrutinized every part of me, placing special emphasis on my ears. “Half fae, I suppose?” He directed the question at my immobile father. “What kind of secrets have you been keeping, Simón Plumanegra?” Now, his gaze slid toward my mother as she lay on the floor. In death, her glamour had dissolved, and her true nature was revealed.
Father’s face went red. I imagined he was angry that this stranger had figured out the secret he’d so jealously guarded since he met my mother.
“What would your subjects think?” the sorcerer went on. “Their king cavorting with filthy batracios. What a scandal.”
I later learned that “batracio” is a slur humans call the fae. It’s a word from our old language that means frog or toad. People say fae might be as beautiful as princes or princesses on the outside, but on the inside, they are ugly and base.
The sorcerer went down on one knee and spoke in a tender, melodic voice. “Hello, princesita. My name is Orys. Would you come and let me take a closer look at you.”
I glared at him, imagining him flat on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He beckoned with one long-fingeredhand.
His features were undeniably handsome, sculpted with an otherworldly grace. Sharp, angular cheekbones cast shadows upon his pale skin, and his eyes, the color of storm clouds, gleamed with unsettling intensity. Beneath this facade of beauty, however, lay a terrible darkness, a wicked edge that promised to strike like a serpent. He both captivated and repelled me in equal measures.
Yet, I was not afraid. Hatred boiling in my chest, I took a step forward.
A low growl escaped Father’s throat. I ignored his disapproval and kept going.
Orys smiled kindly, but I could sense his malice, like an awaiting snare. I was only a pure child and the taint of his evil couldn’t be disguised from my innocent eyes.
Behind me, Father continued grunting with effort, but I ignored him still. My full attention was on the sorcerer and the certainty that I could easily end him if only I got close to him.
Tentatively, he reached for me. I pulled back only to erase his caution. If he thought I was afraid of his touch, then he wouldn’t be afraid of mine.
And so it was that, emboldened, he took my hand in his.
I sensed a gentle push in my being, as if he were trying to… read me… like a book.
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Who are you?”
The question was full of awe. A genuine smile stretched his lips. Gray eyes searched me and paused at my neck. Carefully, as if not to spook me, he snaked a finger under the chain I wore and tugged it until he pulled the necklace from under my dress.
His eyes grew wider still and a puff of breath escaped through his lips as he stared at the jewel. I perceived the moment his awe morphed into avarice. With a jolt of panic, I scurried away, pulling my hand away from his grasp even as he tried to tighten his hold.
For a moment, I feared that with our physical contact severed, I wouldn’t be able to hurt him. Except I instantly realized it didn’t matter. Even if he tried to hide in the confines of this realmor any other, I had the power to undo him.
I lifted a hand and splayed my fingers.
