Page 119 of The Familiar

The guards took hold of Luzia as the warden strode toward Santángel.

“I will watch you and that useless whore burn,” Víctor muttered.

It was over. Santángel had done nothing but doom them both.

“That you may be better entertained, I will attempt to die slowly.” As the warden led him away he murmured, loud enough that his master would be sure to hear, “Good luck to you, Víctor.”

CHAPTER 52

Back in the darkness of her cell, as Neva mumbled in her sleep, Luzia contemplated the road that she and Santángel had chosen. She knew he had intended to free her by damning himself and she had almost let him do it. She wondered if the Prince of Olives knew just how ruthless his new master was.

Donadei had approached her in the audience chamber as she waited to be taken to her cell.

“I will pray for your soul,” he said loudly, then whispered. “You see, little nun? I did win in the end.”

“Are you so certain?”

“My miracles will work wonders for him and I won’t have to listen to him moan beneath me every night to earn my keep.”

“What happened to the whispers of milagreros and your fear of Víctor de Paredes? You should listen to your own warnings.”

“Do you really still take me for an honest country rube? Don Víctor has the king’s favor and soon I will have a place at court. I will be the king’s champion yet.”

“Your ambition will bury you.”

“Give me more advice before you’re clapped in chains.”

“Then call it victory, Fortún. Over me. Teoda. Pérez. I ask only one thing: Do not come to witness my humiliation. Do not attend the auto de fe and what is bound to come after. I beg you, grant me this consideration.”

Donadei’s face split in a radiant smile. “You even beg badly. I will be there to watch you and your lover burn. Then Don Víctor will have one milagrero, and I will be on my path back to the palace.” He bowed and declared, “May God have mercy on you, Luzia Cotado.”

His ugliness should have shown on his countenance, she thought. But only stories and plays worked that way, and maybe she should be grateful for it. If this were a tale told to children, she’d sprout horns and fangs for what she intended to attempt.

“Did you mean those things?” Rudolfo asked when he took up his post outside her cell for the night. “That you fucked the devil’s man?”

“If I can get Mariposa Baldera to love you, do you care how wicked I may be?”

He hesitated. “No. But she is already fond of me.”

“Fond. That’s nice. It’s good that fond is enough for you.”

Rudolfo pressed his face against the grating of the door. “But it is not enough for me!”

“Then you must do as I bid, for I die tomorrow.”

When she had told him her demands, he said, “Impossible! No, I cannot.”

“At least she’s fond of you.”

“I want her to love me completely,” he pleaded. “Without sense. Without reason.”

What a curse to place upon someone. “Then what happens when the prize is won? When you tire of her?”

“I will never tire of her,” he said fervently.

He meant it, and maybe it would prove true. But Luzia was glad she didn’t really have the power to alter hearts, and she prayed Mariposa would make her choices wisely.

“I can tell you how to make a nuska,” Luzia said, “and where to place it. Then it will be done, but first you must do as I have asked.”