Page 66 of House of the Raven
“Thoughts go sour. Actions are better. If something is eating at you, do something about it.”
I frown. “What if you can’t do anything about it?”
“Then it’s not a problem. Problems have solutions.”
“Not always.” I interlace my hands on top of the table and stare at them.
“Death is the only problem you can’t solve.”
Our food gets delivered, and I attack it with the intensity of someone bent on changing the subject.
“Who died?” Esmeralda asks, mid-chew.
My spoon freezes over the wooden bowl. The food is really good: the meat juicy, the vegetables tender, the bread freshly baked, but each bite I’ve taken suddenly turns to lead in my stomach.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” My words come out chopped like axe blows.
“Might help,” she mumbles and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
I say nothing. If she thinks thoughts go sour, I think words go putrid. I don’t need to tell her how tragically I lost my father, how much I miss him, how fearful I am for my sister, how lost we all are if Orys is controlling Castella’s queen, or how I can’t seem to remember anything positive about my father.
Since Mother’s passing, the only person I’ve truly confided in has been Amira. Even Jago remains unaware of my mother’s fae heritage. And although Cuervo is my friend, it’s not like I can have real conversations with him.
Naturally, I lay the blame squarely on Father’s shoulders. He warned me not to trust anyone with my secrets and planted the seed of fear and distrust in my heart. He impressed upon me that if the truth were ever revealed, it would not only bring harm to our family but to Castella itself.
I set my spoon down as an idea hits me. What if his negative talk about the fae, Romani, crooked and ambitious court members—in essence, anyone who wasn’t Amira or himself—was solely to keep me from divulging the one momentous truth that would have condemned us all? What if he did it to protect us all? He loved a fae female deeply, after all.
But what could he gain by trying to shape my entire character around mistrust and fear?
“Fearlessness isn’t a laudable character trait, Valeria,”His voice is in my head again, providing the answer.
Father, did I always misunderstand you? Were you only trying to curb my impetus?
“Are you done?” Esmeralda asks.
I find that my appetite is gone, so I nod. She grabs the last piece of bread from the basket as her eyes track somebody behind me. A moment later, the bell above the tavern’s door tinkles.
Jumping to her feet and going for the exit, she urges me to follow her. “C’mon, let’s go.”
She’s out the door before I can even get out of my chair. When I join her outside, she grabs my arm and drags me along the sidewalk.
A heavyset man dressed in a tunic that reaches his ankles walks ahead of us. He carries a cane that taps with every step. When the man turns the corner ahead, Esmeralda makes me wait a moment before we turn too.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Following him?”
“Why?”
“He’s our first mark.”
“Mark? What do you mean?” I ask, fearful of the answer.
“I need you to distract him,” she whispers close to my ear.
“You aren’t going to—”
“Shh.” She presses a finger to her lips. “Don’t ruin this. Don’t forget you said you would do anything to pay back for our help.”
