“I never knew my mother,” Reina said, her nostrils flaring at the bitter truth. “Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out differently if my parents were still around. If my father hadn’t been so alone in raising me.”
Do?a Laurel’s gaze carried to where Reina’s tail was tucked beneath her. “I didn’t know her well either. I only met her once, when Juan Vicente was saying his goodbyes. Although I do remember she had her tail cut off, unlike you.”
The words took Reina by surprise. They were invasive, and normally she would ignore such remarks because it was too late. She couldn’t conform and pass without her tail, as most nozariels born before the revolution did, for it needed to be severed shortly after birth. Her tail was too well-developed now—and a part of her. But Do?a Laurel spoke with such fondness of Reina’s father, she deserved to know. “Father thought it was barbaric that nozariels were forced to do this.”
Do?a Laurel looked affronted. “They’re not forced anymore.”
“No, now it’s just easier to do it so that we don’t live such a… difficult life. Well, so that they don’t.”
That ship had sailed for Reina. Her skin had become impervious to all the long looks and scowls of disgust she received from humans. Her father had impacted the course of her life forever with one measly decision, and he hadn’t even stuck around to help her through it. Reina clenched her jaw and looked down, lest Do?a Laurel catch the darkness in her eyes.
The do?a picked up on it anyway. “I’m sure Juan Vicente did it with the best intentions. He abhorred the way nozariels were treated. It’s what drew him to the cause. I hope he was happy in Segolita. What happened to your mother?”
“Father said she died of a cold when I was just a baby.”
“I’m sorry,” Do?a Laurel said simply. She walked back to Reina and again sat on the bed, closer this time, bringing back her warmth. She tugged a silken handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and extended it to Reina. When Reina didn’t immediately accept it—held hostage by her fear of touching a human possession, having had the habit beaten out of her—Do?a Laurel gently wiped the cold sweat from Reina’s temples, then caressed her cheek. And Reina watched her speechlessly, her new heart flailing uselessly in confusion at the woman’s kindness.
It gave Reina the courage to ask the question casting a shadow over her entire life: “Did he say why he left, when he said goodbye? If he had everything here, why did he have to give it all up?”
Do?a Laurel didn’t answer right away. She wrung her hands and frowned, with her gaze lowered. “Once Segol was ousted after Samón Bravo’s and Feleva ?guila’s final battle, a power vacuum disrupted the order in Sadul Fuerte. There were prosecutions and trials of alleged loyalists and just general chaos. But despite your father’s best wishes for the revolution, one thing remained constant: Humans couldn’t bring themselves to see nozariels as equals. Shortly after, Enrique and the other caudillos agreed it was best to send nozariels to Fedria, where Samón had garnered more sympathy for your kind, and the politicians who took power agreed to build a country governed by the people. I’m sure he took you there as part of that exodus. Thank the Virgin that Samón and Feleva were valcos, and most humans see them as heroes, otherwise the discrimination would also extend to valcos in the same way.”
Also, valcos were never enslaved, the do?a failed to mention.
“Did my grandmother—Do?a Ursulina—did she disapprove of their union?”
“Perhaps—or perhaps you’ll have to get the answers out of her. I’m sure it was a better life for your mother in Fedria. After emancipation, many families in Venazia disposed of their nozariel slaves in ways I’d rather not mention.” Do?a Laurel paused, picking at the lace of her long sleeves, which was patterned with doves taking flight. She wore three rings on each hand, made of gold and capped, like the ones worn by practicioners of geomancia. One ring per hand for litio, galio, and bismuto each. “I regret not paying attention to what was happening with Juan Vicente. I guess I was caught up in my own fairy-tale ending,” Do?a Laurel said dreamily, her smile reaching her eyes as she thought back. “Enrique was a war hero, and we were just married. Celeste was only a few months old. I was the luckiest girl in the land. I got what every noble lady west of the Páramo Mountains coveted in that time: marriage to the future caudillo of Sadul Fuerte. So, as you can imagine, I didn’t have a lot of room in my mind to understand why Juan Vicente was so keen on leaving. I figured he was fed up with the way his circle mistreated his new mistress. Even the archbishop of Sadul Fuerte refused to marry them.”
“They didn’t marry in Segolita either.” This was a fact Reina had never been able to wrangle out of her father, who’d spoken of his brief time with Beatriz so fondly. It was the gossiping people who knew Juan Vicente who’d told her.
“Juan Vicente deserved to be happy,” Do?a Laurel said and rose. “I resent not knowing he was struggling. I resent that I couldn’t help him. The people call me the Benevolent Lady because I pride myself on using my position to give kindness, which is something this city lacks.”
Cold perspiration slicked Reina’s hands. She saw the opening and almost didn’t seize it, but in the end, desperation drove her to say, “My father’s not here anymore, but I still need help. I left everything in Segolita for the opportunity to be a part of my grandmother’s life.”
Do?a Laurel waited for her to finish with a sad look. Reina held her breath.
“Are you aware that nozariels are banished from Venazia?”
Reina’s heart announced itself with a throb. Grimacing, she said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Anytime doubt had assaulted Reina and begged her turn back to Segolita, the hope that there might be somewhere she belonged had kept her going, even to the hostile Venazia. “I know of the decree, but I also heard stories of nozariels who live with humans, if their families allow it. Do?a Ursulina sent me a letter—”
Do?a Laurel stopped her by raising a palm between them. “I would never hurt Juan Vicente’s memory by turning you away. But while I may be the luckiest woman in all Sadul Fuerte, this is not a world where I’m allowed to make all the decisions. Focus on your recovery—once your strength returns, you should discuss your future with your grandmother.”
It wasn’t a rejection, but it stung nonetheless.
Do?a Laurel made to walk away. Before she could exit, a wild side of Reina almost begged her, but she only managed the strength to say, “Th-thank you, Do?a Laurel.”
From under the doorway, Do?a Laurel offered her a beaming grin, all squinted eyes and straight white teeth. “You’re welcome, dear.”
For the first time in years, Reina thought she might be.
5
?guila Manor
The ?guilas’ servants changed Reina’s bandages and attended to her every need, but the mastermind behind the operation was Do?a Ursulina. She made her appearance several days later, when Reina had the strength to sit up on her own and shakily stand with the support of the bedposts. Do?a Ursulina coughed loudly from the doorway, arriving in black silk robes with a neck of white feathers, resembling the condors Reina had spotted circling the Páramo. The woman’s scowl shook Reina to the bone, and her knees gave, collapsing her on the bed.