Page 57 of House of the Raven
Jago watches me all the while, stroking his chin. “You must have a plan.”
“I do.” I wiggle my toes in relief.
“So, is there a part for me this time?”
I winked at him. “Always.”
He smiles and rubs his hands, a willing accomplice. “Tell me all about it.”
So I do.
Meandering through the house sometime later, I take short steps to make sure no one sees my boots under the long dress.
A different guard trails behind me. I ignore him and make sure he has the most boring morning of his life. I fan myself and yawn, pausing at portraits of bald, fat men, who I’m sure aren’t related to Don Justo and are here just for show. His fortune is new and stolen, so I doubt his ancestors commissioned such works.
One portrait out of the hundreds catches my eye. It depicts an extremely handsome man in his early thirties. He has clear blue eyes and blond hair framing a chiseled face. The painter has managed to capture an air of confidence and arrogance that is oddly alluring. A plaque at the bottom of the frame readsJusto Ramiro Medrano. What? This is Don Justo? No, I don’t believe it. I’m convinced he looks like a wart-ridden, overfed goat. He must have paid handsomely for a double-dealing painter to lie on the canvas.
After a heavy lunch, I sit in the courtyard, smelling the roses and fanning myself some more. I haven’t seen Bastien or Emerito all day, andI’m glad about that. Cuervo is here, perched on the roof and acting like a regular raven. I instructed him to keep his distance, especially from Guardia Corpse.
My guard stands next to one of the columns, pulling at the tight neckline of his uniform. He’s dripping sweat and looking miserable. I’m not doing much better, not with two layers of clothes on, but it is little to endure if my plan works.
When the guard looks ready to fall asleep or faint from heat exhaustion, I stand and walk out the front door, sighing heavily.
“This place is so dreadfully boring.” I look back at my guard. “Don’t you agree?”
He nods, and I think that, like me, he would do anything to get out of here and return to the capital.
Distracted, I make it all the way to the front gate. The guards there stand at attention when I approach.
“Good day to you,” I say, batting my eyelashes.
One of them positively blushes. He looks no older than me.
“What do you, gentle dons, do around here on dreadful days like this?” I ask.
The young guard opens his mouth to respond, but the other guard, his elder, cuts him off. “We perform our duties, Your Majesty.”
I’m not sure if he’s attempting to impress me with his diligence or trying to make sure the younger guard doesn’t embarrass them by saying the wrong thing. I really hope it’s the latter. I don’t need a strict adherent to the rules at this moment. I need someone who can be flexible and enjoys life.
“That sounds as dreadfully boring as all of this.” I spread my arms toward the house to illustrate the lack of… well… life. This place is dead, and I doubt Don Justo’s return will make a difference. In fact, I have a feeling his presence will only make everything worse.
“I looked and the house doesn’t even have a chapel,” I complain.
“There is one right outside the villa,” the young guard supplies eagerly.
“Truly?”
He nods, wearing a huge smile.
“Do you think you can take me there?” I incline my head to one side and innocently lick my lips.
“Of course, Princess Valeria,” he responds.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” my guard puts in.
“Of course, you don’t.” I roll my eyes. “If you want to stay, go ahead.” I step closer to the two guards. “These men work for my future husband, and I’m sure they know better than you what is a good idea and what is not.”
He shuffles from foot to foot and glances toward the house, unsure of what to do.
