Page 104 of The Familiar

She had no water to wash with and no one to help her undress, so she slept atop her covers in her filthy clothes.

The next day she sent for Águeda and asked her to bring someone to help with the house. The cook arrived with a market basket full of food and her ten-year-old niece, who brought water from the plaza and helped Valentina wash and dress.

She was waiting, though she didn’t really know what for. For the king’s soldiers or the alguacil’s men to knock at her door. For word that she was to be arrested or banished. For their property to be seized, though it was hard to imagine who would want a shabby house and fields full of miserly olive trees.

She ate the midday meal in the kitchen, and when she climbed the stairs she was surprised to find Marius in the hall.

He had lost weight and his clothes hung on him. She knew she must look equally haggard. Had she found him more handsome when he was stout? Or had she been taken in by something else, an illusion like those Luzia conjured?

He swept her into his arms. “It’s over,” he said.

She waited for him to release her. “Where is Luzia?”

His eyelids stuttered, as if he didn’t recognize the name. “Toledo. She was given into the Inquisition’s custody.”

“Then we should go there. She’ll need someone to advocate for her and make sure she’s receiving proper care.”

“The best thing we can do is stay far away. It’s a true miracle that we are free.”

Valentina shook her head slowly. She was still so tired. “I dragged her into this catastrophe. The least I can do is make sure she’s well-fed.”

“Have you gone mad?” He looked over his shoulder and whispered furiously, as if the inquisitors might be listening through the walls. “If she’s lucky she’ll be exiled, but she will not be lucky.”

“You should have given her the horse.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered!”

“It would have,” she said. “It does.” She couldn’t explain why. She only knew she couldn’t shake free the memory of Marius standing with the reins in his hand, gripping them as if he were afraid the horse might bolt, unable to meet her eye.

“There’s nothing you can do for her,” he said.

That was probably true. What could one powerless woman offer another? “I can make sure she doesn’t die alone.”

He stared at her as if she’d sprouted a horn from her forehead. “You do not want the Inquisition’s attention, Valentina. The best thing you can do is wash your hands of that woman. To do otherwise is dangerous, and you are too foolishly sentimental to realize it.”

“I recognize the danger,” she said. “And I would rather be a fool than a coward.”

Marius jolted as if struck. “That is enough. You have forgotten what it is to be a wife.”

It was possible she had never known. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“And yet I find I am weary.”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the stairs.

“You can’t save her,” he pleaded. “You must know that! What can you hope to achieve?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t even like Luzia. But she was certain that if she were the one locked in the tribunal’s cells, Marius would still be hiding here.

“You brought her into our house! You had her perform those little miracles that could have cost us everything. You brought this disaster upon us, and now I’m the one you blame?”

“Go away, Marius.”

“Go … Where would you have me go?”

Valentina sighed. She just wanted to crawl into bed. “You’re right. I’m stupid and sentimental. When we wed I was a foolish girl who hoped to love you. I grew into a foolish woman who hoped to please you. And now, well, I suppose I’m still a foolish woman who only hopes to be rid of you. Go away, Marius.” She turned from him, heading back toward the kitchen. “Go away and be glad I didn’t tell the vicar you sleep with a portrait of Martin Luther cradled in your arms.”