Page 62 of House of the Raven
Anger rises in me. It’s not his secret to share with others. I glare at him, but he seems oblivious.
“And why does she need to rest here?” she asks, narrowing her green eyes, which make a striking combination with her ebony hair. They are the same shade as El Gran Místico’s. I wonder if he’s her father.
My chest continues to heave at a faster pace than normal, making it evident that I’m exhausted, but can she guess why? Has she pieced together that I’m the one the guards are pursuing? What if she decides to turn me in hoping to claim a reward? Perhaps I made a horrible mistake. What reckless, impulsive notion led me here? I should have stayed with Jago.
My brain, like a rabbit constantly giving birth to ill-advised ideas, concocts yet another brilliant scheme: spill my secrets. Well, most of them, at least. Without a moment’s consideration, my mouth is already in motion.
“I’m hiding from Don Justo Medrano’s guards,” I say. “I’ve been sent here to marry him against my will, but I want nothing to do with him. I’ve never met the man. I arrived only yesterday, and although he’s currently absent from his villa, I’ve heard enough about him to want no part in it.” The words come out fast and sharp, like daggers slicing a sparring dummy. It appears my tongue is equally swift and cutting.
They both fix me with quizzical expressions, their eyebrows arching in unison. Their eyes briefly meet, conveying an unspoken question:Do you believe her?
I wait for their judgment, not daring to blink. El Gran Místico is the first one to settle on a decision, and from his expression, it’s a positive one. Esmeralda takes a little longer, but in the end, the belated sympathy in her eyes means more to me than his faster acceptance.
“If you’ve heard what we have about that mongrel, I don’t blame you.” She inclines her head toward my wrist. “Want me to take a look at that?”
I nod.
Esmeralda kneels in front of me and gingerly gathers my wrist in her hands. She moves it this way and that. I wince.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” she says. “Badly sprained, but not broken.”
“That’s good,” I say lamely.
“I’ll get some strips and wrap it.”
“I thank you deeply.” I bow my head.
Esmeralda narrows her eyes as she examines my hair closely. I sit back, wondering if that damn white strip has become visible, and whether or not she’ll immediately associate the streak with Princess Valeria Plumanegra, but it shouldn’t be. I applied enough dark paste this morning to last a week.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
I don’t hesitate when I give her the fake name I’ve always used when exploring Castellina. “Catalina.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Catalina.” The inflection she puts on the name lets me know she doesn’t believe that’s my real name.
I glance toward El Gran Místico, who looks amused, as if he not only suspects but knows more than Esmeralda does.
“Don’t trust anyone, Valeria,” Father’s voice echoes inside my head. He would have me think that everyone, aware that I’m a princess, would seek to use me for their nefarious purposes.
“Surely, there are good people in the realm,” I would answer him, thinking that he was only trying to scare me into obedience.
But maybe he wasn’t so wrong. The veilfallen tried to kidnap me. What if these people try to do the same? Holding the reins of my distrust in check, I decide to hold my judgment. I will be careful, of course, will watch all their movements closely, and will use what I learn to form my own opinions.
A couple of hours later, I sit inside the wagon alone. Esmeralda wrapped my hand tightly, and it feels much better this way. She thinks it will be fine in a few days, and so do I. They left me here, telling me not to worry, that I was safe in the wagon. Remembering Bastien’s earlier lack of interest in searching for me here, I grow more confident in the assumption that the wagon is protected by some sort of spell. At some point, I drift off, lulled by the silence.
When the door opens, I startle and jump to my feet, but it’s only Esmeralda. As the door closes behind her, I’m surprised to see that it’s dark outside. A sudden apprehension stabs me right in the chest. I would like to know that Jago got away from Bastien. Except I don’t believe he did, so really what I need to know is that he’s unharmed.
“Have you… heard anything?” I ask, gesturing toward the door.
“There are a few guards still looking for you. There is a particularly grumpy one that seems relentless. He has come around three or four times already.”
My breath catches. Somehow I know she’s referring to Bastien, which means he must have caught up with Jago. Is my cousin back in Don Justo’s villa? Is Don Justo? My stomach flips. I can only imagine the complexity of that situation. The overreaching man demanding where his supposed bride-to-be is, and Emerito attempting to find a diplomatic way to explain it all. They wouldn’t hurt Jago, would they? If I could get a message to him.
“How come he hasn’t tried to look for me here?” I ask.
“I think you already know why.” Esmeralda’s green eyes twinkle.
“Are you also… fae?” No matter from what angle I look at her, I haven’t caught a glimpse of pointy ears, but I have to ask.
