Page 47 of House of the Raven
“Are you all right?” Jago asks.
“I’m fine. It’s just I wish he would stop staring at me.”
“Who?” Jago starts to glance around the room, but I put a hand on top of his to stop him from glancing in the guard’s direction.
“Bastien,” I whisper, hiding my mouth behind my napkin, so he can’t see I’m talking about him. “He keeps staring. It’s not like I’m going to evaporate into thin air.”
“Bastien, is it?”
I shrug. I’m tired of calling him Guardia Bastien.
“Ooh, maybe he likes you,” Jago teases.
“Ew, no.” I shake my head adamantly.
“Ew? There is noew, no matter from which angle you look at it, my dear.”
“Speak for yourself. The man is positively corpse-like. There is no emotion in him. I wouldn’t be surprised if his heart is solid rock.”
Jago rolls his eyes. “As well as other parts of his body,” he jokes, then continues, “Clearly, you know nothing about men. The ones who hide their feelings are the worst. The deeper they bury their emotions, the more intense they are. Very dangerous. In fact, that’s the kind of man you need to stay away from.”
My eyes flick to Bastien for an instant. As they meet his gaze, a tingling sensation travels down my spine.
“Meh,” I say. “I have absolutely nothing to worry about. Not my type.”
“Like you have a type.”
“Can you blame me? Every man who has ever shown any interest in me was only interested in my title. Honestly, if it wasn’t because I’m very curious about,” my gaze dances around the room and I lower my voice, “sex, then I would completely forsake the entire idea of marriage.”
“Fair enough. There’s always sex outside of marriage, you know?”
“You know, I know. Stop bringing that up. You also know it’s not a possibility for me. At least not until I’m considered a spinster.”
He looks up at the ticking clock on the wall and bobs his head from side to side. “Well, I guess you have a few more hours then.”
I slap his arm, even though he’s not far from the truth. It won’t be long before everyone will consider me a spinster. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing I’d been born a man. None of this would be happening if I’d been that lucky.
To my chagrin, I can’t finish my stew. My appetite shrinks and shrinks every time my eyes meet Bastien’s. I set my fork down with a sigh.
“I’m going to my bedchamber,” I tell Jago.
He reclines, crossing one ankle over the other, and nursing a tankard. “I’ll stay up. See what… kind of excitement La Torre has to offer tonight,” he says as he smiles at the pretty blond maid who served us.
I lean close and speak in his ear. “Don’t have too much fun and forget our plan.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he responds without even looking at me. I try not to let his attitude worry me. Whenever he spots someone he likes, male or female, he usually gets distracted. He has never failed me, though, so I resolvenot to worry.
I swing by Emerito’s table. “Please tell the person in charge that I require a hot bath in my bedchamber.”
His eyes go wide, and his expression turns into ahow dare you?sneer, but I don’t give him a chance to say anything. Instead, I hurry up the stairs to the second floor, doing my best to ignore the burning sensation in the back of my head, which lets me know Bastien’s eyes are following my every step.
The room assigned to me is calledPeineta Doradaand has a golden flamenco hair comb painted on the door. Inside, the space is small, but I’m pleased by how clean and orderly it is. There is a metal tub in one corner, and the bed has a pretty canopy draping from its four posts. My luggage rests at the foot of the bed. I dig out a fresh pair of leggings and a tunic.
Soon, there is a knock at the door. “I’m here to prepare your bath, señorita.”
Pleased by the efficiency, I call, “Come in.”
I’m expecting someone or several someones carrying pails of hot water, instead, I’m taken aback by the appearance of a slip of a girl, no older than twelve. She wears a simple blue dress with a matching hair cap. She carries no water.
