Page 93 of House of the Raven
I need everyone to focus on Amira Plumanegra while I worry about her sister.
Throwing my head back, I down the rest of the wine.
Soon I will hold the amulet in my hands again.
Soon.
27
VALERIA
“I find myself conflicted. Los Moros have contributed to our knowledge in abundance. Yet, many have suffered greatly under their rule.”
Manrrique Guillen - Erudito de la Academia Alada - 45 BV
My heart still pounding after eavesdropping on Amira, I make it to my bedchamber. The door is thrown open, and when I step inside, my heart sinks heavily into the pit of my stomach.
My room,my room, the place where Mother soothed me to sleep after childhood illnesses and night terrors, is destroyed.
Numbly, I place one foot in front of the other and walk further in. My furniture is gone. My belongings have vanished, leaving behind broken walls and floors littered with debris underfoot. In one corner, I discover the tulip tapestry that Mother and I once embroidered together, now abandoned. I lift it gently and hug it close to my chest, tears welling in my eyes.
Amira didn’t even have the decency to mention they’d destroyed my bedchamber searching for Mother’s necklace.
I want to run back downstairs and yell at her. I want to shove her and slap her and…
Gods! What is wrong with her?!
My arms tremble and tighten around the tapestry as if to strangle it.
“Sad,” a voice croaks behind me.
I turn and see Cuervo perched on the balcony’s railing. I approach him, the weight of the sadness he just named heavy in my soul.
“I don’t have much from Mother, Cuervo.”
I hang the tapestry over the railing and beat on it. Dust floats up in a cloud and gets carried away by the wind.
“I made this with her. Well, I made this flower and this one.”
With a trembling finger, I point to two small crooked tulips.
“They’re ugly, but she told me they were beautiful, better than the first ones she made when she was little.”
Cuervo’s eyes are full of sympathy as he looks up at me. Seeing such understanding in his expression snaps me out of my emotional spiral. I can’t let despair take me. I have a mission, and I won’t accomplish it by feeling sorry for myself.
Taking a deep breath, I get my thoughts in order, realigning my plans with all I’ve learned today. Once I’m calm, I take the tapestry and leave in search of Jago. I find him sleeping in his bedchamber, shirtless and drooling on his pillow, a bottle of wine on the night table.
“Wake up!” I slap his cheek.
His eyes roll as he struggles to keep his lids open.
“Really? Did you have to get drunk first thing?”
He sits up. “I’m not drunk. I only had two glasses of wine.” Yawning hugely, he stretches his arms over his head.
“Oh, good.” I make myself comfortable in a cushioned armchair and watch as he jumps off the bed and finds his shirt.
“How did your meeting with Amira go?”
