Page 67 of House of the Raven
“I did say that, but—”
“All you have to do is distract him. You want to get back to Castellina under our protection, don’t you?”
Is she threatening to leave me here ifI don’t help her?
“Go.” She makes sweeping motions with her hands.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, think of something.” She shoves me forward. I stagger and put out my arms for balance. My heart is pounding, and my mind produces one question after another.
Does Esmeralda want to kidnap this man? No, that’s stupid. We couldn’t carry him. Kill him? Not in broad daylight, and in front of passersby. Rob him? Yes, rob him. That has to be it. He looks like a well-to-do kind of man, the perfect target.
“What are you waiting for?” Esmeralda hisses behind me.
I can’t be part of this. It’s wrong. But if I don’t do it, I have no doubt the troop will leave me behind, and then what? I have no money to pay for a horse or carriage ride back to Castellina, so in the end, I may end up a thief no matter what. The difference? I wouldn’t have Gaspar’s protection, and I might easily be captured by Bastien and brought back to Alsur. And that is definitely not an option, and Esmeralda knows that.
Swallowing my shame and honor, I hurry my step and catch up with the man.
“Gentle Don,” I say, tapping his shoulder.
He jumps a little and turns around to fully face me. Beady eyes scan me up and down. His nose wrinkles and his upper lip twitches. I hadn’t stopped to wonder about my appearance, but seeing his reaction makes me realize I’m a mess.
I haven’t had a bath in two days, my clothes are filthy from sleeping on the ground, my hair is in tangles… I must look like… what? A Romani? A poor fae?
Undoubtedly, he’s asking himself the same questions because he tries to catch a glimpse of my ears, but they are hidden under my messy hair.
The unwavering look of disgust on his face eases my guilt regarding my role in whatever scheme Esmeralda isconcocting.
“I am new here,” I say, “and I was wondering if you know a nice place to stay? A cheap inn, maybe?”
He looks scandalized, as if knowing about the existence of such a place would be a contaminant to his every thought.
“Go pester someone else,” he sneers.
The way he looks at me and the venom in his words make a part of me recoil. No one has ever talked to me this way. I’m used to deference—too much of it—accompanied by smiles and bows. Despite myself, his treatment makes me bristle.
“I’m not pestering you. I’m just asking a question,” my voice is haughty, dripping with entitlement, though that isn’t all.
There’s so much about this situation that rankles me. No one should treat anyone without respect only because they’re different or because they have less than they do. Nana did her best to teach me as much.
I doubt this man even earned his own wealth and has a true reason to be so full of himself. He likely inherited everything from his father, like I did—not that I have more than the clothes on my back at the moment.
So who does he think he is?
For all he knows, he’s talking to a princess of Castella, someone whose boots he’d bend down to kiss if he recognized it to be in his best interest.
I open my mouth to say something to that effect when Esmeralda comes toward us. Stumbling like a drunk, she crashes into the man’s side. He lurches and prevents a fall by using his cane. His face disfigures into a mask of anger and repulsion.
Using all his strength, he shoves Esmeralda backward and sends her flying against the adjacent wall. She hits it with force and crumples to the sidewalk.
I’m stunned silent by the violence of the man’s actions, and by the unadulterated disgust that drips off him. He looks as if he suspects Esmeralda has infected him with an incurable disease that will turn his skin to boils and his gold coins into lumps of coal.
“Filthygitana!” he spits.
Blood trickles down Esmeralda’s forehead.
I rush to her side. “Gods, you’re bleeding! Are you all right?”
