Reina stiffened. She had to. Otherwise Celeste was going to see the tremors that rippled through her arms.
What if this was the beginning to their love story? Epic and fated, like the Benevolent Lady and the caudillo of Sadul Fuerte.
Somewhere far away, the fallen leaves of the jungle rustled—crushed. But Reina didn’t have eyes or ears for that. She was busy accepting the fruit, Celeste’s fingers grazing against Reina’s lips. In her mouth the amapola was milky and sweetly tart, the juices exploding with the same texture as a pineapple. It made Reina realize how hungry she was. For food. For Celeste. For life.
Celeste lifted the remainder of the fruit between them. This time, Reina took it from her hands before taking a bite that exposed the seed at the center. Then she handed it back. And Celeste ate the rest of the pulp until nothing was left but a smooth brown seed.
They stared at each other, the distance between them receding like the hours between midday and dusk. Reina smiled; Celeste grinned.
“How are you feeling?” Celeste asked.
“Hungry,” Reina said. “Do you see magic?”
“There’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
They shared an uncertain laugh.
“You looked like you were ready to see rainbows sprout out of my ears,” Reina teased, watching Celeste blush. “What if it’s just a story?”
Celeste licked her fingers clean. “I guess… it doesn’t matter?” Her breath smelled of sweetness as she said, “Anything could happen, and I want to share it while we’re still here. If friendships can withstand the bands of fate, then I want ours to be the one to make it—”
Reina gave up on stopping herself. This was a risk she couldn’t not take.
Her hands dove behind Celeste’s neck, bringing Celeste’s lips to hers. She did it gently at first, waiting for the inevitable shove, but none came. Celeste molded to Reina’s body like the waters molded to the shores of the lagoon. And Reina took a deep inhale through her nose, taking in the scents of salty sweat and Cow Sea water and a million feelings, reaching—burning for more.
But it was just a sweet thing, without the exploding warmth Reina had imagined in her wildest fantasies.
Reina pulled away and saw Celeste’s eyes were crystalline. They glistened—from happiness, Reina hoped. Then she looked beyond Celeste, to the trees bordering the clearing and to the source of the crunching of leaves. The two figures standing before them weren’t trees. They weren’t even part of the jungle.
They were Eva and Maior.
36
The True Legend
Eva spent the evening in Maior’s bedroom, the two readying each other for dinner. She took every second with optimism, working twice as hard to bring Maior’s mood back to the high of the morning, before the sight of Reina with Celeste had shriveled Maior’s already fragile heart. Eva smiled broadly and directed every conversation away from Reina. She did it gladly, reminding herself that Maior deserved this kindness. Maior was a true friend, one who filled an emptiness Eva hadn’t known she had. In the short time they’d had together, Maior had been a source of joy and comradery, their friendship genuine and unadulterated by the darkness surrounding their lives.
“Put your arm through here. No. Lift it here. All right, now suck your breath in.” Eva stood behind Maior, tying the silk ribbons so the soft fabric was flush to Maior’s chest.
In a small voice, Maior said, “This is a waste of time. It’s not like I’m a guest.”
“You’re as much of a guest as I am. Here, help me with the knot.” Eva grabbed Maior’s hand and directed her to press a finger against the base of the ribbon.
“Do?a Celeste is the guest.”
“Exactly,” Eva said cheekily, to which Maior frowned through the reflection on the mirror. “And we are with Do?a Celeste.”
Tonight’s dresses were a formal version of their flowery, ruffly, daytime beach-frolicking outfits. Maior’s was the color of a dawn’s sky: a little pink, a little blue, and with the ruffles around the neck and around the ends of the skirt a bright coral. Eva’s was a warm butter, the ruffles goldenrod. Each quite complemented its wearer’s skin tone. Like whoever picked them out had taken great care in the decision.
Everything in Tierra’e Sol was like that, carefully considered. From the refreshments to the dresses, to the tent at the beach. Not even back home had anyone taken so much care to make Eva feel included.
She smiled at Maior through the mirror. “I like it.”
Maior nodded in meek agreement.
It wasn’t just the dress. Their skins glowed from the sun, the slight sunburns on their cheeks making them look like they wore rouge. And something about the salty water worked wonders on Eva’s hair. Tonight her curls weren’t matted or frizzy or sticking out unevenly. Eva dared to admit, for the first time in a long while, that she looked… pretty.
“I don’t know why they expect me to join for dinner. I’ll be like a cockroach in a chicken dance,” Maior said.
Eva chuckled. Her grandmother often murmured the same saying whenever she was chiding someone for being wildly out of place. Eva used her finger to coil the ends of Maior’s hair, which held the curl shape if it was twirled strand by strand in its dampness. Maior didn’t care for the curls, even though they made her look rather comely.
“We’ll both be out of place,” Eva said. Normally she’d be the one decrying a party filled with aristocrats. But something made her want this for Maior. After so much indifference and abuse, the poor woman deserved it. “And it’ll be… kind of hilarious.”
Maior swatted her hand away. “I’m just a nurse from Apartaderos.”
Eva moved from their reflection and faced her evenly. With some effort she ignored the afterimage of Celeste’s mom. It wasn’t an intrusive distraction anymore. Thankfully, the only other valcos she had seen in Tierra’e Sol so far were Ludivina and the Liberator. And she had a feeling they were unlikely to bring up Maior’s peculiar condition.
“You’re my friend. That’s what’s important. And I don’t want to be out there all by myself.”
Saying it felt good. It felt just right, like the sweetness of the island’s fruits.
Maior smiled for the first time this evening. She reached out and rearranged the curls atop Eva’s head, parting them for her antlers.
“Eva Kesaré!” Javier’s voice came from outside, his fist pounding the door. “You best be here, and you best be ready.”
Eva rolled her eyes and walked to the door, flinging it open to match Javier’s attitude.
Javier was dressed in a tunic of dark blue, the tall neck and the hems of his long sleeves embroidered in the pattern of bay leaves. A golden stallion was stitched near the chest, right over his heart. His hair was brushed back to a neat high ponytail, his jaw clean-shaven. And despite him not enjoying much of the beach, his cheeks had the unmistakable redness of a suntan.
There was surprise in his eyes when he saw her. Perhaps she had stolen the words from his mouth.
Finally, he said, “You look beautiful. The Liberator will love it.”
Eva’s lips became a thin line. She refused to acknowledge the compliment.