Page 18 of Secrets of the Six

She laughs, groaning as she stands. "That's something you will have to ask him yourself."

"Will you at least tell me what he looks like?"

She stops in the archway leading out to the patio and turns back to look at me. "Is there a particular attribute you're interested in learning about, mi querida?"

"No," I shake my head. "I just have a picture in my head of what he actually looks like, and it includes burn scars."

She laughs. "In time, Salvador will reveal himself to you." She taps her cane against the floor, as if punctuating the end of a sentence. "Walk with me."

She doesn't wait for me to acknowledge her request before slipping outside, knowing without a doubt, I'll be nipping at her heels regardless if she waited for me or not. Like a dutiful lap dog, I follow her.

The stones that compose the outdoor, rectangular patio stretches toward the gardens where Doña Otero is limping. I catch up to her, and she slips her arm around mine, for stability or to keep me hostage, I'm not sure, but I know better than to shoo her from my person.

For a few minutes, we walk in complete silence and it's in the quiet I'm able to fully absorb my surroundings. The Otero Estate is expansive and is not only the largest property in the Garden District, but in all of Orlencia. Coveted by other Dons and Doñas, House Otero has made their mark on the city. There may not be an Otero heir in sight, but no one would dare cross Ana Otero, knowing damn well what would happen to the lot of them for their treachery and audacious belief they could outwit the oldest House.

The main residence boasts seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, two living rooms, a library, study, dining room, kitchen and plentiful servants' quarters. The Otero Estate also includes a stable, guest house, private boat dock and immaculately landscaped gardens with gravel pathways, strategically placed seating areas, and soothing fountains. Everything on the Otero grounds is surrounded by an eight-foot-tall white adobo wall and the front gate is manned by a small army. With the grounds being at the tip of the Garden District peninsula, it's private, and has the best views of not only the city, but an unobstructed view of the sea. In complete contrast to the Brogratto, I can hear birds singing, water lapping, and feel the sun beaming down on me like a lover's kiss.

All I saw growing up was devastation, poverty and sorrow. The buildings in the Brogratto are piled on top of each other, blocking the sunlight from the crowded streets below. Animals do not last in the Brogratto; the people will slay them just to have a morsel of meat to consume.

No wonder the Soberano is intimidated by the Otero family. Or rather, Ana Otero. She is a puppet master, pulling the strings of the rich and poor, ensuring fate favors her. Clearly, the Soberano taking power was not in the plan, proving she, too, can be blind to a usurper, but for the last fifteen years, she's been playing the long game. Quietly, she has worked to guarantee victory. All I question is how many of us will be left standing in the end? How many of us are merely pawns in her game of revenge? The queen is the deadliest piece, and she knows it.

"You are unusually quiet." The Doña's voice slices through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. I'm not sure how we ended up in the middle of the garden since I zoned out completely. "Tell me what thoughts have you so occupied?"

With kindness in my tone, fearing she will take my comment for offense, I say, "This is a very large estate for just you."

She doesn't skip a beat when she nods in agreement. "This property has been in my family for three hundred years. There used to be more of us but with old age, plague, and war over the last two generations, most of us have died."

When we reach a stone bench overlooking the bay, she tugs my arm downward for us to sit.

"Are you alright?" I scan her face to ensure she's not ill.

"Can't a woman sit and enjoy the view?" she snips, and I furrow my brow.

"Next time I won't ask. I'll let you weaken and fall to the ground instead."

She laughs, which makes me smile. "Lupe is right. You are a little brat."

"I've been called much worse."

Doña Otero's smile fades as she looks out over the horizon, as if she's dreaming of freedom just as ardently as me. "Sometimes I envy my sister for being born second. Marisol never knew the burden and responsibility our father thrust upon my shoulders the day he passed. House Otero's survival depended on me – the first female heir. I knew I would have an uphill battle to ensure the other houses didn't wet their lips and pounce, thinking me to be weak and incompetent. I had to be ruthless and blood-thirsty the day my father died to solidify that House Otero was stronger than ever, and we were not to be trifled with."

A heavy sigh escapes her lips and constricts my heart.

"Marisol married Guillermo Lozano and moved to his country estate to produce olive oil. She lives a life of peace and luxury while I have orchestrated endless business dealings, preserved my family's reputation, and strategized against those who would see me dead."

Her sudden confession tugs at my hardened heart. "You sound bitter, Doña." What I refuse to admit is she sounds like me.

Her eyes slide to meet mine, a raw and ugly vulnerability in her gaze. "I am bitter. But I would rather be powerful than compliant."

"So, your sister married. Did you not?"

"I did marry." Her face softens. "He was a good man."

"Was?"

She inhales deeply, grounding herself. "Oh, it's been nearly thirty years since he passed away. The doctor insisted his heart failed him, but I know he was poisoned."

My eyes widen. "Poisoned? By whom?"