A whirlwind of satisfaction filled her from the inside out. “Now go,” she said, and he did.
It was all the confirmation she needed.
They darted to the vast chamber with the sarcophagi as the tunnel imploded behind them.
Tierra’e Sol was a land of cloudy gray as the bellowing maw of the tomb spat them out. The arrival of morning unveiled the dark, bringing with it rain clouds streaked in lightning. Rain pelted the jungle canopy, deafening, soaking them to the bone and washing away the grime. Don Samón’s companions awaited them within the overgrowth, flanked by the handsome Liberator with the gnarling antlers. “A useless display,” Reina spat out as she carried Celeste. Eva, too, watched them with annoyance. So many warriors, and none had bothered to go into the tomb to help them when they’d needed it most.
The cave roared like a great jaguar behind them, exhaling a cloud of dust and pebbles that sealed its entrance forever. Finally they were free from the legend.
“Let us go to the safety of my home,” Don Samón offered, a hand shielding his eyes from the rain. “I brought my reinforcements with the intention of protecting you from Do?a Ursulina.”
“She’s dead,” Reina and Eva said in unison, shushing the jungle clearing, for there had been an otherworldly quality to their words. A finality not allowing a challenge. A power.
Don Samón bowed a nod from the reprimand and begged them to rest and recuperate in the comfort of his manse.
The wind buffeted through and past them. Eva’s joints protested. She was so tired—even the simplest act of breathing was a chore. Her heart was a wildly pumping thing, struggling to keep up with the million tiny aches throbbing within her. Just this once she didn’t care that returning to the Liberator’s residence meant dealing with the truth of their bond. She just wanted to be dry, to lie in a bed, and to have a meal.
“I am not trying to capitalize on your weakness,” he told them, gaze lingering on hers. “I merely know what it feels like to have a helping hand when you need it most.”
Water flooded the corners of Eva’s eyes. Maybe it was relief.
“You can trust me.”
Then the tears of exhaustion broke through.
The rains lulled Don Samón’s manse to sleep. Every plant and every flower curled with moisture, the caged birds puffing up in proximity to keep dry while the heavens wept. Life in the manse went on undisturbed by Do?a Ursulina’s ambition. And it was an odd sight, after spending a night of terror in that tomb.
A bespectacled man still in sleepwear was summoned as they arrived, and he guided Reina back to Celeste’s room, along with a small entourage of assistants. When Reina rejoined Eva in the dining hall moments later, her eyes were fearful, and she shuddered, as if, without Celeste, her body were hollow.
The servants fed them cassava crackers, queso de mano, and mango preserve. Then they were ushered past the mosaics of legendary sea creatures and glass-panel refractions made dull by a gray sky, then through the labyrinthine garden paths overrun by jasmine. Until they entered the Liberator’s workshop, where in the daytime, a wide window east of the lion-legged desk washed the room with the colors of rain.
Eva slumped herself on the nearest chair. Despite Javier’s obvious exhaustion, she ordered him to stand behind her. She had a feeling her companions wouldn’t take kindly to him enjoying the comforts of Don Samón’s hospitalities. With the power brimming in her, his obedience came easily.
Reina never took a chair and instead stood by Maior, who was slumped on one with a hand over her brows.
“What happened in that tomb?” Don Samón finally asked.
“Javier tried to sacrifice Celeste.” Reina spoke the truth, her fists clenched. Eva watched them going pale from constricted rage.
“You would murder your own blood?” Don Samón said. Not a question—an accusation incensed with the severity of his crimson eyes.
“I was possessed,” Javier bit out, “by the tiniebla in me.”
“Which is so conveniently not possessing you at this moment.” Reina’s gaze burned into him. Maior laid a hand over Reina’s, easing her clenched fist.
Eva could have attested to the truth. She could have spoken up and declared her own guilt in the matter. Instead, her courage left her, and she let their wrath and judgment fester over Javier. But even if she said the truth, how would it change the fact that it had been Javier wielding the sword that impaled Celeste’s back?
“He has a tiniebla in him—I’ve seen it,” Eva said. She watched Reina, gaze surfing her sand-dune skin and midnight hair. Reina’s comeliness had been dampened by the sharp angles and ragged edges. The cuts and bruises of her skin and the thick muscles taut beneath her clothes.
One day Eva would muster the heart to tell her the truth. Once they were all comforted by Celeste’s waking up. But now was too soon. Rather, Eva directed Reina’s passions to the Liberator.
“You said it was your purpose to protect the tomb from anyone seeking to make the invocation, but you were never there when we needed help. It’s great that you came afterward but—it was done.”
Don Samón accepted the criticism with a nod. “Our sentry spotted ?guila banners on the mainland, over the shore. I don’t know if Don Enrique has a ship, but likely he doesn’t, otherwise he could have easily overrun us with his people. I think he might have done it as a distraction—a successful one at that. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when I went to inspect the tomb.” He sighed and stared at his hands. “I always figured, if something were to happen, it would be closer to the final day, not now. Though I’ll admit the party wasn’t a good idea. It made me comfortable and complacent.”
“Do?a Ursulina snuck into the island long before the dinner,” Reina said, and they all turned to her with gaping mouths. “I saw it. I just didn’t say anything because my intention was to help her.”
Don Samón’s face soured. “You, too?” He rose. “So you are a band of murderers and liars? I thought you were Celeste’s lover.”
Reina’s lashes shrouded her eyes. Her jaw undulated with tension. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not. And I didn’t know the damas were going to be killed.”
“None of us knew,” Eva added, giving him a meaningful look, assigning blame where it was due. “We all made mistakes.”
Her belly fluttered as his attention landed on her.
This valco who was her father.
“Was Do?a Ursulina attempting to lift Rahmagut’s seal?” Don Samón said.
“That’s not what she cared about,” Reina said. “My grandmother wanted Rahmagut to grant her power—”
“But she already had so much—”
“She wanted to receive the same rewards and advantages as Feleva ?guila did.”
Don Samón frowned. Then, as realization dawned on him, he nodded. “Did she invoke him?”
“She sacrificed seven damas. Celeste and I were next.” When Maior spoke, all eyes landed on her in surprise, reminded she had always been there. Do?a Laurel’s shade resided in her still, an unwelcome, ever-present guest.