Page 88 of The Familiar

Valentina startled, shocked at the thought of Luzia dreaming. “What did you want?”

“Money,” Luzia said, and she was relieved when Valentina laughed. “Sometimes they were small wants. A day when there were no floors to scrub or curtains to beat or chickens to pluck. A husband to love me.”

“That is not such a small thing.”

“No,” Luzia allowed. “But I couldn’t stop there. I longed for beauty and power and rooms full of people, lively conversation, journeys to mysterious lands. I wanted to be looked at and admired.”

“Vanity.”

“Vanity, and sloth, and gluttony. Every single sin. I wanted all the time. I still do.”

“I thought I desired luxury and plenty. To wear fine clothes, meet fine people. But now I just want to go home, and eat Águeda’s cocido, and stop being so afraid. Some part of me hates you for bringing us here.”

Luzia raised a brow. “No doubt you hate yourself more.”

“Maybe. Ambition is a terrible thing. When I married Marius, my parents were so pleased. Or as pleased as I ever saw them. But I think some part of him will always resent me, the match, my lesser name.”

“It’s a good name. Romero. It has a good meaning.”

“A pilgrimage name?” Valentina scoffed. “There’s nothing in it.”

“But it’s a name for rosemary too,” Luzia said, the word ruda forming an unsung harmony in her head. Rosemary, rue, hyssop, a little sugar. “For protection.”

Valentina looked only skeptical, but she gestured for Luzia to turn so she could finish undoing her coronet. This time, her hands were gentle as they unplaited and smoothed Luzia’s hair.

When she was done, she said, “Don Marius, Don Víctor, Pérez, maybe the king himself … they’re all the same really. They spin in their orbits and we are left to wonder at their movements. You must be careful with … with Santángel.”

It seemed everyone wanted to warn her today. “Because he made a deal with the devil?”

Valentina winced. She shook her head. “Because he is a man, Luzia.”

That night, Luzia kept the lamp by her bed burning a long time, wishing Santángel would come to her, remembering the names Donadei had listed, building his case. She hadn’t recognized all of them. She knew of Isidro’s miracles, Piedrola’s predictions, the mystic Isabel de la Cruz, Lucrecia and her dreams. All curses require sacrifice.

Had Don Víctor really sought to become Donadei’s patron? What role had Santángel played in all of it? What role was he playing now?

There was a strange mood in the palace that seemed to seep through the walls, a feeling of abandonment, as if the furniture had been packed away, the paintings removed, the windows boarded up. Her mind walked a path to the stables. She saw herself riding a white horse on a moonlit road. Was she a fool to stay, to wager on her own gifts and a cursed prince?

How was she to sort love from desire? It was like planting sage beside foxglove, trying to separate the leaves when the plants were still new. Both were a kind of medicine if only you knew which was which. Santángel was dangerous, but was he dangerous to her? He had lain with her on this bed. He had whispered her name. A murderer who spoke to scorpions, who appeared places he should not. He was a horizon she didn’t yet know. Why seduce a girl of scant beauty or knowledge if not to control her? Why link himself to a peasant if there wasn’t some gain in it?

There had to be a path forward through this, a chance at survival if nothing else. And if she’d been witless enough to want more, to long for love instead of crafting plans, then she could put those hopes aside. The rat didn’t dream of the ocean, not if it wanted to survive the cat.

Luzia nearly leapt from bed when she heard a tapping at the door.

Don Víctor stood in the dark hallway, his black cloak fading into the shadows so that his long face seemed to float in the gloom.

She recoiled, hiding her body behind the door, conscious of the thin fabric of her nightclothes and what her undress implied.

“I was expecting Doña Valentina,” she lied.

He studied her with his cold eyes. “Santángel is running an errand for me. I thought it best you keep your thoughts on the task ahead.”

Then he knew, as Donadei had. Had Santángel told his master? Or had it been his master who commanded this seduction in the first place? The thought caught like a hook beneath her ribs. It should have left her in despair, but it only made her angry.

“Be prepared to ride out early tomorrow,” he stated.

“Has the location of the third trial been revealed?”

He ignored the question. “Pérez’s position with the king is even more precarious than I understood. But this will not all be for nothing. Tomorrow you will be extraordinary, so extraordinary that the king will not care who found this treasure, only that you are a vein of ore so rich you must be mined. Pérez will be of no concern to us.”