Eva smiled at her, to give her reassurance under their scrutiny. In a way, Maior had prevented the worst just as much as Reina.
It was a selfish thought, to value Maior’s and Celeste’s lives over the others. But Eva was tired of dwelling on things she couldn’t control. She had spent her whole life living with guilt. She’d left Galeno because she wasn’t going to shrivel for the sake of others ever again.
“What happened in there that the tomb collapsed?”
Reina told him. She unsheathed her golden blade, which didn’t need sunlight anymore to glow.
The sight drew Don Samón’s frown. “How could you have single-handedly caused the destruction of the tomb, unless something else went awry?”
No one had an answer.
“What are you implying?” Eva stepped forward.
“That kind of destruction—was some kind of power unleashed?”
“Wouldn’t we know by now, if her invocation weakened the seal enough to free Rahmagut?”
She liked saying the name, how the r rolled in her mouth like a bite of sweetbread. How nothing horrible happened, despite her grandmother’s foolish warnings. She wanted to keep saying his name over and over again.
“What about all the horrible things you said would happen?” Eva challenged. She had expected thunder and brimstone, not this calm aftermath, where she brimmed with power from skills learned the hard way. “Wouldn’t we notice something?”
“I don’t exactly know how it would happen. It would be unprecedented.” He turned to his monolith with the carvings of agonized people, the one he’d extracted from the sanctum. “Historians and folklorists tell us of Ches’s and Rahmagut’s ancient conflict, which occurred when this land was still young. A war of gods. Ches succeeded in banishing Rahmagut to the Void and used the last of his power to seal him away, in the process losing his grip on this world. Ever since, both have been absent. You can pray to them and pretend they listen. And yes, the veil separating our reality from theirs weakens occasionally, especially during events like when Rahmagut’s Claw journeys through our skies. But they are still absent. Their return, as physical living entities, could damage the balance of our world.”
He returned to his desk, fetching a blank scroll and a fresh bottle of ink. “A war of gods is not something I wish to witness in this lifetime, and neither should you.”
Anger flooded Eva, like his words were a slight. She wanted to say something to stop him. But instead she hugged herself and looked away, bewildered by the irrational idea.
Don Samón went on. “For the meantime, we will have to wait and see. I will reach out to some trusted geomancers and scholars, get their opinion if anything out of the ordinary is noticed.” He sighed. “I sent a messenger to the mainland, to inform Don Enrique that I have his daughter, as a guest, and I plan on seeing her recuperated before sending her back.”
“You will give her to the caudillo?” Reina asked.
He draped one hand over another. “Not doing so could be seen as hostile. Do you even know if he was willing to sacrifice her? I mean, it sounds to me like all of you were in the dark.”
Reina lowered her gaze in shame. “Do?a Ursulina hated the caudillo. Everything was a lie.”
Don Samón’s gaze surfed every person in the room in silent judgment. Eva was glad he didn’t press the matter. They had already paid for their stupidity—she hoped.
“I want you to know that I understand your plight, and I have nothing against you. You can continue to be my guests, and once you’ve rested and recuperated, you are welcome to choose your path. As for you”—Don Samón shot Javier a glare—“you will have to answer to your brother when he demands to know what happened to his firstborn.” He gestured to the servant who waited by the doorway and said, “Take him to the cells.”
Eva’s stomach was a stormy ocean. Javier had done what he did because of her.
Still, she never said a word as the man dragged him out of the room. Not even as his eyes settled on hers, tired and resigned, aware she had the power to make him comply if he ever resisted the escort.
She looked away, to Reina, and saw hatred in her glare. Then Javier was gone.
43
A New Valco
The lull of rain on the roof made the silence short and welcoming as Javier departed. Their business was finished, at least for the time being, so Reina helped Maior up and headed for the door. Eva stood to leave as well, trailing behind her friends, but stopped as the Liberator said, “Eva Kesaré.”
Her neck heated at the way he enunciated her name. Eva paused with her nails digging into the chair’s backrest. She knew what he was going to say.
Reina slowed under the doorway, giving Eva the option to tell them to wait for her or to go on ahead. With a brave nod, Eva let them go.
“We never finished last night’s conversation,” Don Samón said once the silence was their only witness.
Eva’s gaze caressed the spines of the books on his shelves, the exquisite ancient items he stored in his cabinets and on his furniture, the jewels and paintings that adorned the room. She knew he’d let her have it all, desperate for her approval. The idea tugged the edges of her lip.
With a side-glance, she said, “What else was left to be said?”
Don Samón circled his desk to face her. “I didn’t bring up the name of your mother just for the sake of pleasantry.”
His increased proximity alarmed her—not because she distrusted him but because of the wounded feelings it nuzzled.
“Did Dulce ever talk of your father?”
Dulce. Not Do?a Dulce, like he was so familiar with her mom he could bypass honorifics.
His eyes weren’t the ruby of a heroic valco anymore. They were soft and wounded. “Did she say anything about him at all?”
Eva shook her head, her nose growing hot and stuffy, then said, “My grandmother had many things to say about him, though.”
His lips became a thin line.
The silence grew bolder as the rains turned to a drizzle, then stopped.
“And you believed all those things?”
Eva shielded herself with her anger at her upbringing—at the side-glances and cruel gossip she’d received thanks to her father’s “crime.” “If they weren’t true, then why did she take her life?”
Why, if he hadn’t addled her mind, filled her with an obsession of fake love so that even the love her daughters had to give was inadequate? Eva’s belly twisted. She half wanted to spit at him. But she was held back by the gentle cooing voice telling her it had all been a lie. If so, Do?a Antonia was the one to blame.
He looked away. “She wouldn’t have taken her life if I had been allowed to save her. I wanted to take her out of that prison, but in the end, the mighty Do?a Antonia got her way. When I found out about your existence—that Dulce had birthed a beautiful valco girl—it was too late. I was in the middle of my campaign.”
Tears blurred the soft daylight beginning to fill the room. The strength to face him fled her. She coddled her face in her hands and gave him her back.
With his soft, pleading tone, he said, “It was either rescue her and you, or finish the fight for independence. It was a choice between what I loved most and turning my back on our people. I was young, and foolish, and ambitious…” His voice weakened, and he paused. “I knew that if I took you and Dulce out, I would lose the flimsy alliance the Serranos gave me, and I needed Galeno to join me willingly. The city was—and is—too important to the foundations of Venazia’s economy to be destroyed in a war. If Venazia is destabilized, then Fedria follows suit. And I didn’t think I deserved this kind of happiness—I didn’t know how empty my life was going to be without you and your mom.”