7. CHAPTER 7

7

VALERIA

“Saints and feathers! The little prince shifted and flew out the window. Find him!”

Esteban Colmos - King’s Esquire - 10 DV

I was eight years old. My dress expanded around me as I twirled and twirled.

“Look, Mother, I’m a bell.”

She smiled that beautiful smile I was always trying to coax out of her. It lit up my world.

“Indeed, you are, my little pixie.” Mother paused, a pair of pliers in hand, mid-twist of a wire. She was making me a bracelet.

“You’re going to fall and bonk your head,” Amira said from her desk. She was working on her letters and was annoyed that I wasn’t letting her concentrate.

I wobbled on my feet as my ears started ringing, and my heart sped up.

Abruptly, a thrum rippled through the air and dropped me to my knees. My head and the entire room spun. Mother set down the pliers, eyes snapping toward the door.

“What is it, Mother?” Amira abandoned her quill and ran to Mother’s side .

I squeezed my eyes, willing the dizziness to go away. My heart hammered against my chest. It had never done that. I thought I was dying.

“Something… something is wrong.” Shakily and with Amira’s help, Mother rose to her feet and tottered toward the door, which she opened with a shaky hand.

The thrumming sound grew louder. I covered my ears with both hands. Mother turned her head to one side, wincing.

Brow furrowed in confusion, Amira stared from Mother to me and back again. She couldn’t hear what Mother and I heard.

“Girls, stay here,” Mother ordered, leaving the waiting room and closing the door behind her.

Even as my ears and heart pounded, I rushed to the door.

“She said to stay here.” Amira tried to grab my arm, but I pulled away and followed Mother.

My sister came after me, but I was faster and slipped into the throne room, the source of the thrumming. Mother was on the floor, and Father was kneeling in front of her, trying to wake her up.

“Mother,” Amira cried out when she crossed the threshold. She ran toward Father, nearly knocking me down.

Father glanced up, eyes red and wide. “Amira, get out of here! Take your sister.”

Fear deepening on his features, his attention snapped toward an obscure figure standing in the middle of the room. A yellow light glowed all around the shape, creating a thumping contour, which moved in tandem with the thrumming in my ears.

Amira, obedient as always, grabbed me by the waist and started dragging me away. I kicked and screamed for Mother, and Amira only managed to move me a few steps before I slipped from her grip and threw myself near Mother’s feet. I stared into her blank eyes, willing them to glance my way. They did not move.

“Mother,” I sobbed, my small hand touching her ankle .

The light from the figure grew brighter, the thrumming intensifying by a similar degree.

Father pushed my shoulder. “Listen for once, Valeria. Go!”

I fell on my bottom as he took a step over Mother and blocked the ominous figure from view.

“You will pay for this,” Father bellowed, his voice a mixture of rage and agony.

The thrumming reached a stupefying crescendo.

It can’t be him. It can’t.

Yet, the same glowing figure now stands in the exact same spot it did that day. Father also stands in the same place, shoulders squared, facing what looks like his wife’s murderer. But it can’t be. He’s supposed to be dead.

The air thrums. My ears ring.

I try to peer through the terrible brightness, try to discern who stands within its folds. The shape is no more than a silhouette, but it matches the one in my memory. It feels like the same espiritu with the same attributes, the same signature.

Rage explodes in my chest. This bastardo killed my mother, stole from Amira and me the joy of what used to be a perfect family. And now he’s back, intent on taking what’s left. I won’t allow it.

I rush to Father’s side. He startles at my presence and immediately throws his arm across my chest. “What are you doing? Get back!”

“I can stop him,” I say, my rage boiling over.

“No, you can’t,” he says with certainty.

He knows I can. I did it before. I don’t know how, but I did .

Guardia Bastien joins our side and unsheathes his rapier. His blade isn’t fae-made, so it can’t block espiritu. Still, Father looks relieved, and I can’t lie. I feel the same way.

But all that relief washes away when Amira steps into view from behind the sorcerer.

Father shares my shock. It is evident in the way his entire being seems to wilt, as though all strength has drained out of him in one go.

“Amira, what are you doing?” Father asks, his words a croaky whisper.

“What needs to be done,” she replies.

He shakes his head. “No. This isn’t you. You are… good.”

She scoffs. “And you know that how?”

The knot in my throat threatens to shock me. I struggle to breathe. Amira is good. She would never do something like this, which means—

“What have you done to her?!” Father bellows at the sorcerer.

Orys has now stolen my sister, too. But he should have never returned. I may not know or remember how I stopped him before, but I’m going to do it again.

As the thrumming of the sorcerer’s espiritu snaked its way into every corner of my small body, something warm glowed in my chest. Like tendrils of smoke, that warmth moved to encompass the rest of my body until I felt an immense sense of calm and strength suffuse my entire being.

That monster killed my mother, and I will kill him.

This wasn’t an appropriate thought for an eight-year-old. Nonetheless, it felt right.

I stood, abandoning Mother for only a moment.

I will be back. I promise .

Quietly, I stood behind Father as he faced his enemy. Amira wasn’t a concern anymore. She was too paralyzed with fear and grief to try to follow Father’s command anymore.

Father had no weapons. He only had his fury, desperation, and of course, his agility. It was legendary. He was said to have defeated many foes, even after he lost his ability to shift. Though it was against lesser opponents than this one.

He couldn’t confront a sorcerer with only his hands. Standing there so brave and determined to fight, I later realized—once I was old enough to understand matters more deeply—that he wasn’t seeking revenge.

He was seeking death.

Without Mother, the love of his life, he saw no path other than the one she’d been forced to take. In time, I also came to recognize that the love he harbored for my sister and me paled in comparison to his feelings for Mother. We weren’t reason enough for him to want to stay. The knowledge hurt. It still does, but I have never been in love. If I had, maybe I would be able to understand him fully, and I wouldn’t blame him for loving us less.

That infernal thrumming grew impossibly stronger. But the warmth that had enveloped me seemed to guard me against its effects. I no longer felt dizzy. Instead, I felt certain and empowered.

Heedlessly, Father lunged in the sorcerer’s direction, a hoarse battle cry ripping from his throat.

What happened next I would never forget.

I lifted a little hand toward Father and said, “No.”

The word was a command, and it was accompanied by a wave that rippled outward from my chest. As it traveled, it emitted its own thrumming, though it was quite different from the intruder’s. Whereas his espiritu sounded like the elongated pounding of a hammer, what poured out of me was like the melody of a gentle violin.

Father came to a sudden stop, his foot hovering in the air. He was frozen, suspended. His blue eyes swiveled in their sockets, filling with panic.

Like Father, the sorcerer’s espiritu also stopped. The room went blessedly silent as the horrible pounding came to a halt. The light around the male dimmed, and what had only been a silhouette up until now, solidified into a tall figure dressed in a long brown robe.

A pair of cold gray eyes stared at me from a handsome fae face.

The juxtaposition of evil and beauty was unsettling. As a child, I’d been accustomed to pretty things being good, or at least harmless. But I immediately realized how mistaken I had been.

Beauty can be sharp and lethal.

Cocking his head to one side, the sorcerer watched me with undisguised interest. “What do we have here?” His gaze scrutinized every part of me, placing special emphasis on my ears. “Half fae, I suppose?” He directed the question at my immobile father. “What kind of secrets have you been keeping, Simón Plumanegra?” Now, his gaze slid toward my mother as she lay on the floor. In death, her glamour had dissolved, and her true nature was revealed.

Father’s face went red. I imagined he was angry that this stranger had figured out the secret he’d so jealously guarded since he met my mother.

“What would your subjects think?” the sorcerer went on. “Their king cavorting with filthy batracios. What a scandal.”

I later learned that “batracio” is a slur humans call the fae. It’s a word from our old language that means frog or toad. People say fae might be as beautiful as princes or princesses on the outside, but on the inside, they are ugly and base.

The sorcerer went down on one knee and spoke in a tender, melodic voice. “Hello, princesita. My name is Orys. Would you come and let me take a closer look at you.”

I glared at him, imagining him flat on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He beckoned with one long-fingered hand.

His features were undeniably handsome, sculpted with an otherworldly grace. Sharp, angular cheekbones cast shadows upon his pale skin, and his eyes, the color of storm clouds, gleamed with unsettling intensity. Beneath this facade of beauty, however, lay a terrible darkness, a wicked edge that promised to strike like a serpent. He both captivated and repelled me in equal measures.

Yet, I was not afraid. Hatred boiling in my chest, I took a step forward.

A low growl escaped Father’s throat. I ignored his disapproval and kept going.

Orys smiled kindly, but I could sense his malice, like an awaiting snare. I was only a pure child and the taint of his evil couldn’t be disguised from my innocent eyes.

Behind me, Father continued grunting with effort, but I ignored him still. My full attention was on the sorcerer and the certainty that I could easily end him if only I got close to him.

Tentatively, he reached for me. I pulled back only to erase his caution. If he thought I was afraid of his touch, then he wouldn’t be afraid of mine.

And so it was that, emboldened, he took my hand in his.

I sensed a gentle push in my being, as if he were trying to… read me… like a book.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Who are you?”

The question was full of awe. A genuine smile stretched his lips. Gray eyes searched me and paused at my neck. Carefully, as if not to spook me, he snaked a finger under the chain I wore and tugged it until he pulled the necklace from under my dress.

His eyes grew wider still and a puff of breath escaped through his lips as he stared at the jewel. I perceived the moment his awe morphed into avarice. With a jolt of panic, I scurried away, pulling my hand away from his grasp even as he tried to tighten his hold.

For a moment, I feared that with our physical contact severed, I wouldn’t be able to hurt him. Except I instantly realized it didn’t matter. Even if he tried to hide in the confines of this realm or any other, I had the power to undo him.

I lifted a hand and splayed my fingers.

He pushed to his feet, espiritu thrumming again and light glowing all around him. With practiced ease, he launched an attack. I didn’t have the sense to be afraid. I only had the certainty that he couldn’t hurt me, or my father, or my sister. He had ended Mother’s life, but that would be his last evil deed.

“Be gone and die,” I said simply.

A surge of warmth emanated from my chest and coursed down the length of my arm. With swiftness surpassing even the sorcerer’s, radiant espiritu burst from my fingertips. In an instant, as if he were nothing but a moth caught in a flame, a fiery whoosh enveloped him, consuming him in the blink of an eye.

All at once, the warmth left me, and I collapsed to the floor, the world around me fading to nothing. After that day, there was a white streak in my hair that forever reminds me of what I lost.

“This will be the last mistake you make, you asshole, because this time I’ll make sure you never return.” Even if I have to strangle him with my bare hands, I will make sure this bastardo never threatens my family again.

I vaguely wonder if Guardia Bastien will interfere—given that he’s supposed to watch over me—but he does not. And it isn’t cowardice. His expression looks as impassive as ever, no fear has entered it. Instead, he only seems… curious.

Shaking my head, I dismiss my quick assessment of him and focus on the real problem. The monster in front of me. I expect that warmth that enveloped me all those years ago to return as I square my shoulders and plant my feet next to Father.

“I’m counting on you to do your best. We have a score to settle,” Orys’s eerie voice speaks from the depth of the blinding glow. It reverberates through the room, along the thrumming of his espiritu. “It has taken me this long to recover and confront you again. Give me all you’ve got.”

I clench my fists. “You will pay for what you did to my mother and for stealing my sister’s free will.”

“Amira Plumanegra is here of her own volition,” the sorcerer assures me.

No. That’s impossible. I shake my head, determined not to believe a word he says.

“I ordered you to get out of here, Valeria,” Father says.

“I stopped him before. I will stop him now.” I feel confident even as the empowering warmth in my chest remains conspicuously absent.

“No, you won’t.” Father sounds certain as if he knows something I don’t, but in years past, he’s maintained he has no idea how I defeated Orys.

“ How did I destroy that bad sorcerer, Father? ” I asked him more than once.

“ I don’t know how it happened, amor. Maybe you inherited some espiritu from your mother, after all, but if you did, it’s gone now. ”

“ What if it’s just sleeping inside me? ” I wondered more than once, but Father never gave any credit to that idea.

And at this moment, that is what I’m counting on. The mere possibility that I have some dormant espiritu inside me demands that I confront Orys. Not Father. He would certainly die while I may have a chance to survive. I have to believe it even if in the twelve years since Mother’s death not a hint of espiritu has graced the tips of my fingers.

I take a deep breath, willing the essence of my very soul to strike Orys down. I don’t want him to simply disappear like the last time. This time, I want his lifeless body on the floor, his vacant gaze fixed on the ceiling. I want to personally shovel dirt over his dead carcass.

I thrust a hand forward.

Orys lunges to one side and rolls over one shoulder, but it’s all for nothing because my hand remains frustratingly normal. No light emanates from it. No espiritu delivers the killing blow I yearn to see.

The sorcerer stretches to his full height and the light that conceals him falls away. I gasp, horror seizing my breath. His once-handsome countenance is now grotesquely disfigured, appearing as if it is sculpted from melted wax. His mouth droops in a downward line, and his eyelids look like thin, crumpled parchment.

His gaze falls to my chest.

“I told you,” Amira says.

Orys’s destroyed mouth stretches into a grimace of satisfaction. “I had to see for myself.”

Next, he lifts a hand and beckons toward my chest.

As if this is some sort of signal, Guardia Bastien steps forward and unsheathes his rapier with a zing . It seems he gave me the benefit of the doubt and patiently witnessed my ineffectual move, but seeing as all I did was wiggle my fingers at the sorcerer, Guardia Bastien has decided to act.

Raising his weapon, he quickly advances on Orys, then hacks down as if to split the male in two. Orys is quicker, however, and when he weaves his fingers and thrusts his hands forward, actual espiritu pours from them in a blinding torrent. The magic strikes Guardia Bastien squarely in the chest and sends him flying against the wall. He crumples like a marionette and doesn’t get back up.

Father takes my hand, pulls me, and tucks me behind his back. Slowly, he starts backing away from the sorcerer and Amira.

“There is no escape, Father,” my sister says. “Your time is over.”

He takes another step back, still blocking me.

“Valeria, his time is over,” she says to me. “It is our turn to shine. ”

What is she talking about? Father is still young and strong.

She goes on. “He keeps you under his thumb like a flea. Don’t you want to be free to do whatever you want?”

“Amira, snap out of it.” I try to circumvent Father, but he keeps me behind him, still making his way toward the exit.

She laughs. “I’m not his puppet like you are, and I don’t have patience for your lack of conviction.” She looks at Orys and says, “Take care of them.”

He doesn’t wait to be told twice and blasts a wave of energy in our direction.

I brace myself for the blast of Orys’s magic, for death.

Instead, I’m hit from the side and go tumbling away from my father. I land on my back, the air whooshing from my lungs. Wincing at the pain, I realize Guardia Bastien is on top of me.

Scrambling, I push him away and sit up. “Father!”

He’s on the floor, lying on his side and twisted like a discarded sparring dummy. I crawl desperately toward him. Grabbing his shoulder, I turn him on his back. His face is blank with death.

“No. No. No.” I shake him. “Father, please.” I press a hand to his cheek. His beard is soft against my palm. “Wake up. Please, wake up.” Hot tears spill onto my cheeks, tracing twin paths that burn to the depths of my very heart. “I promise I won’t leave you.” I kiss his forehead. “I’ll stay here and do whatever you want me to do. I’ll marry whoever you wish.”

He only wanted what he thought was best for me. I thought I would have the chance to show him there could be more than one path for me, but now our last interaction will forever be an argument we both wanted to win.

“I love you, Father. Please.” I press my forehead to his chest and long for his strong embrace .

Amira comes closer. “Don’t be pathetic, Val. His miserable life isn’t worth giving up your own.”

Strong arms wrap around my waist, but they are not Father’s. They belong to Guardia Bastien, who picks me up and drags me toward the door. I fight feebly until I notice Orys walking in our direction. He’s intent on me—his now-clouded gray eyes full of the same hatred I feel toward him.

Limp with grief, I let Guardia Bastien drag me away. We’re almost to the door when it slams shut on a phantom wind.

“Where do you think you’re going, you fraud of a girl?” Orys asks.

Guardia Bastien lets me go and produces a dagger. He stands protectively in front of me, but what hope does he have wielding a mere toothpick of a weapon against the blaze of espiritu? Only a fae-made blade would stand a chance, and there are few of those in Castella, like the one hanging on the wall in Father’s bedchamber, La Matadora. What good is it doing up there?

“Stand down, Guardia Bastien,” I say. “This sorcerer’s quarrel is with me. You should leave and save your life.”

He throws an incredulous look over his shoulder. He seems shocked, whether by the implication that he will flee like a coward or by my honorable offer to sacrifice myself, I don’t know. When he doesn’t run out the door and stands his ground, I decide it’s the latter.

Definitely not a coward, but most certainly a fool.

“You should take her up on her offer, weak guard,” Orys says.

Weak guard? Is he blind? Guardia Bastien is tall with wide shoulders and legs like marble columns. But maybe sorcerers measure strength by the amount of espiritu a person has, which amounts to zero between the guardia and me.

Orys flicks his hand carelessly, and Guardia Bastien’s dagger flies off his hand and clatters to the floor. Fast as lightning, the guard pulls out another dagger from behind his back and flings it at the sorcerer. One flick of Orys’s hand gets rid of that threat, too.

Next, my surprisingly loyal guard tries to go for Orys’s throat. This time, he ends up frozen mid-lunge, his eyes wide as swiveling big marbles.

“Better,” Orys says, smiling his twisted grimace.

A chill assaults me at the sight of the snake’s amusement. Beyond him, Father’s body lies still. I keep my gaze focused on my enemy, trying my best to keep my anguish at bay. Still, I notice Amira stepping over Father’s prone shape as if he were only a bothersome obstacle.

Orys doesn’t come closer. Instead, he waits for Amira, who casually makes her way to me. She stops a couple of feet away and scrutinizes me from head to toe. Her expression is annoyed, as if this horrible situation has been nothing more than one of the boring council meetings she complains about.

“He’s gone,” she declares. “For good.”

My lower lip trembles.

“Aren’t you happy?”

This can’t be my sister. It just can’t be.

Amira interlaces her fingers and nods. “I understand. You’re in shock, but once it sinks in, you’ll realize this is the best situation for both of us. I don’t have to wait to be queen and rule, and you can be free to do whatever you want.”

“Please, Amira, wake up,” I say, my throat too tight for anything but a whisper.

“Do I look asleep to you?”

“Sleep isn’t the only thing that can keep you dormant.”

Amira dismisses my comment and steps closer. I immediately take a step back and put my hand up. “Stay away.”

“There’s only one thing I want from you,” she points at my neck, “your Plumanegra key. ”

“What? What for?” It identifies me as a member of Castella’s royal family. Everyone with the Plumanegra last name has one.

“It’s just a… precautionary measure. You’ve always said you’re glad I’m the eldest because you have no interest in ruling. It’s the only reason you’re still alive, and if that’s the case, why should you care about a silly key?”

I don’t remember a day when the key hasn’t been around my neck. By tradition, it gets placed around every Plumanegra’s neck on the day they’re born. Every year until adulthood, it’s resized without removing it. The last time a few links were added, Father was with me. He smiled proudly saying he couldn’t believe I was all grown.

“I care because it’s mine. Father gave it to me,” I say, even though I know it’s a mistake.

Amira’s eyes flash with anger. She turns to Orys and points at Guardia Bastien. “Wake him up!”

Orys snaps his fingers, and Guardia Bastien staggers a few paces before he catches himself. He appears disoriented, his head and eyes moving from side to side.

“You’re no longer required to watch over Princess Valeria,” Amira says. “Understood?”

The poor guardia looks nothing but confused.

“You’re relieved of the post, and if you value your station, you will obey me without question.” She looks him up and down in a hungry way that is nothing like herself. Or is it? What if she did plan all of this? What if I’m wrong about her?

Guardia Bastien appears conflicted for a moment, but in the end, he thumbs his chest with one fist, clicks his heels, and bows slightly. “At your service, Queen Plumanegra.”

I nearly choke.

Queen Plumanegra. It sounds wrong. So wrong .

Amira looks at me down her nose, satisfied. “Now, take the necklace she wears around her neck.”

Guardia Bastien doesn’t hesitate. Not for a second. Even though I try to fight back, he moves too fast and assuredly to be able to stop him. In no time, he has both my wrists in the grip of one hand while, with the other, he pulls the chain and breaks it with one abrupt tug. The metal bites into my skin and rubs it raw. I try to snatch it back, but he pushes me away and moves to stand next to my sister.

“Much better,” Amira says, looking satisfied. “Now, you can go about your jewelry making, excursions into the city, cavorting with Jago and your parrot, or whatever it is you prefer to do. I promise no one will bother you as long as you don’t bother anyone.”

And by anyone she means herself? Or does she mean…? My gaze slides to Orys. If Amira is not being puppeteered by the sorcerer, what role does he play here? And if she is, what does he intend to do? Will he rule through her? Will he also kill her and install himself as king? Or is there another plan that I can’t even begin to fathom?

My head spins. My heart aches.

Father is dead. I can’t trust my sister, and the future of Castella may hang in the balance. The life I envisioned for myself crumbles as quickly as I built it. A new reality takes shape before my eyes, and it looks unlike anything I’ve ever imagined.