Page 61 of House of the Raven
I settle behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. “Let’s get out of here.”
Jago spurs the mare, and she takes off at a gallop. Her hooves pound the ground, and my heart meets their rhythm.
“Stop! I command you,” Bastien’s voice again.
I glance back and see that he’s running toward us. Is he insane? He’ll never catch up to us no matter how fast he appears to be. I’m starting to raise the fig when I notice a horse racing behind him. In an instant, the animal catches up, and Bastien jumps on it without even stopping.
What in Faoloir’s name kind of horse is that?!
“Faster, faster,” I urge. “He has a mount.”
“What? How?”
I shake my head. I have no idea how Bastien does half the things he does.
Noticing a tall boulder ahead, I instruct Jago to go around it. He pulls on the reins, and Furia veers to the right. I lean in close to Jago’s ear, my words pouring out as rapidly as they can. A crazy alternative to our initial plan has suddenly sprung to mind. I have no idea if it will work,but what’s evidently clear is that if I remain on this horse, Bastien will catch me again.
“Don’t stop for any reason,” I say as adamantly as I can. “Keep going, no matter what. Go back to Castellina, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. You know where.”
“What are you…?”
I don’t hear the rest of his question because, as we go around the boulder, I leap off the horse. The impact with the ground is jarring, and it seems like every bone in my body is on the verge of breaking. Clenching my teeth, I ignore the pain and keep rolling with my momentum. I pass over a patch of grass that cushions my fall somewhat. As soon as I come to a halt, I scramble to my feet and hide behind the boulder.
Hooves pound on the opposite side as I crouch down, holding my breath and nursing my wrist. It hurts like all hells. The clamoring gallops swiftly fade into the distance, and I pray Bastien won’t hurt Jago.
I straighten up to my full height and retrace my steps toward town. As I sprint through the flattened underbrush, I spot Cuervo perched on a tree branch, observing me silently. There’s a subtle gleam in his eye, indicating that he took care to remain concealed, preventing Bastien from using him to track my whereabouts. I offer a nod of gratitude, and he responds with a nod of his own.
Jumping off the branch, he flies ahead. I know he will warn me if he sees any guards searching for me. Having just seen Bastien take chase in the opposite direction, I breathe a little easier and move with more confidence in my step.
Some minutes later, I find myself in front of El Gran Místico’s wagon once more. This time I knock. I know exactly why I’m here, though I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Something tells me I’ll be safe hiding with the strange man. Bastien walked right by the wagon and didn’t try to search it. Maybe that means he doesn’t think I would hide among the Romani.Or maybe it means that El Gran Místico has protecting spells over his property. Whatever the case, I’m still free because of him.
But it’s more than that, isn’t it?
The door opens and a somewhat familiar face pokes out. It’s the beautiful woman I saw on the road.
“El Gran Místico is taking a rest right now,” she says. “Please come back later.”
My heart sinks, and I’m about to beg or do whatever it takes for her to let me in when his voice calls from within. “Let her in, Esmeralda. She should rest.”
The woman frowns but does as he instructs.
I swiftly enter, and a rush of relief washes over me, causing all the tension to dissipate from my body. My knees waver, and the pain in my wrist intensifies. I stagger backward, feeling lightheaded. Esmeralda extends a hand and steadies me, guiding me toward the chair I occupied earlier, where I collapse with a sigh of relief.
She looks between me and El Gran Místico. “Who in all the hells is she?”
17
VALERIA
“I thought a seat in the council would be the answer, but the fae want what we cannot give them. This is Castella, not Tirnanog. My people come first.”
Rey Simón Plumanegra (Casa Plumanegra) - King of Castella - 11 AV
“Arepeat customer?” El Gran Místico responds in the tone of a question.
Esmeralda doesn’t look convinced.
“A half-blood?” The charlatan tries again.
