“Because of you,” he said angrily. “What’s to stop me from telling him how your hand was behind it all?”
“The same thing that’s stopping me from commanding you to slit your throat. Or from having you walk to the bottom of the sea until you drown.”
There was true fear in his eyes. His throat bobbed.
It brought the tears back to hers.
How wretched it was—that this arrogant, self-centered, treacherous half valco man was so close to her heart. From the endless nights under the same sky. From the dawns they’d shared and the sunsets they’d left behind.
Eva couldn’t stop herself from reaching forward and taking him in her arms.
There he wept.
“I’m going to figure out a cure for you. I know I can do it.”
He squeezed her, and a heat blossomed in her lower belly.
“You won’t turn. I promise.”
After a while, once his tears had stopped and Eva’s heart had calmed, the light of her flame wisp gave out. She never renewed it. This time, the darkness was their protector.
“Can you feel his power?” Javier’s voice came gently, like that of a lover.
Was this how it felt, to have a husband with tenderness in his heart? Eva swallowed hard. “Whose?”
“Rahmagut’s.”
It was as if the mention was enough of a summons. Just the reminder, the name, sent her fingertips tingling. Yes. She did, though she didn’t have the courage to say it.
“Do you want to know how I know?” he said.
Again, Eva dared not give breath to the words.
“Because the tiniebla in me is rejoicing. He’s raving. As long as we’re together, he gets to be with his master. He says Rahmagut couldn’t have asked for a better host.”
The reaffirmation didn’t even shake her. It was true; her body had changed since the collapse of the tomb. Her fingertips were charged, and her curls didn’t just hang from her scalp—they floated inconspicuously, also electrified. Her tether to iridio had never felt so strong before.
But she knew, even if Rahmagut was in her, feeding her with power and morphing her thoughts with his, Eva was also there. She was aware and steadfast.
So no, Rahmagut wouldn’t use her as a puppet. For as long as he was in her body, nourishing her with his strength and perhaps even his malice, she would only let him be her tool.
She ran her hand over Javier’s forehead, swiping his thin hair away, marveling at the softness of it, and said, “Then tell your tiniebla he’s got another think coming. Tell him in this body, his god serves me.”
44
The Sun Comes Out
There was a moment when Reina thought she was going to be perceived as a vulture for lingering outside Celeste’s door. She had no intention of leaving until the medic assured her that all would be well （and he had assured her—telling her the worst had passed—but Reina wouldn’t trust it until she saw those sky-blue eyes opening again）。 Don Samón had his beach and gardens and private lounging areas, but with her nerves, none of it interested Reina.
She ended up not waiting for long. The next morning, as a steely sky welcomed the fresh pink of dawn, Don Samón’s bespectacled physician exited the dormitory with the news.
The scent of blood weighed the room, coating the roof of Reina’s mouth as she entered quiet like a cat. The smell surprised her, if all was well like the medic had claimed, until her gaze flitted to the bucket of bandages a servant carried out after cleaning Celeste’s wound.
Celeste wore a cream linen gown, something light and airy, easily swappable and given only to maintain modesty. She didn’t notice Reina enter, the valco’s gaze on the streaks of pink reflected on the sky visible beyond the alcove.
Reina watched her for a long time, delighted at the rise and fall of her chest, forcing down any breath that could lead to tears. There was nothing else to cry for, she reminded herself; the threat had passed, and Celeste endured.
Reina gathered the courage and sat on the bed. Celeste was slow in responding. Maybe Reina was her first visit aside from the emotionally indifferent help.
Celeste smiled and extended a hand but came up short in reaching for Reina’s, so Reina finished the journey for her.
“I—I’m so glad to see you awake.” Even if she couldn’t muster any steadiness, she decided to speak honestly.
“Reina.” Celeste’s voice was meek, like the smoke of a freshly extinguished candle. “You saved me.”
“Maior,” Reina corrected, giving credit where it was due.
Celeste frowned. “I was impaled by a sword.”
Reina understood her confusion. It was the kind of wound one didn’t simply live through.
“Don Samón’s medic, he says your skin was closed by her galio. That you would have certainly died from the blood loss otherwise.” Reina waved her hand as she recalled the lengthy but painful assessment of Celeste’s condition, when the medic had warned her that Celeste would only make it if her body could endure. “It was a clean cut. And he had some experience mending innards. He says he learned it in the war.”
Celeste nodded.
Reina thought she was going to have many things to say in this moment, but the silence stretched on, heady. There was the truth she had to share, of their singular grandfather, and a word for what they were: cousins.
Reina hated the implications, not for how their familial ties muddied her right to feel what she felt but because of the differences in their lives. So what if they had a blood relative in common? To everyone else Reina would always be the duskling and Celeste the ?guila heir. If anything, the truth was nothing more than a sick joke.
And it was best saved for later.
“I’m happy you’re awake and that you’re going to be okay. I just wanted to see it for myself.” She squeezed her hand one last time and made to leave, but Celeste didn’t free her.
“Wait—Reina.”
Reina paused with her gaze to the closed door. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her heart fearful.
“You say you’re happy I’m okay, but you don’t look it. You seem cold.”
On the contrary, her chest burned with shame, scorn, rejection. But the important bit was Celeste retained her life. Everything else would have a solution in due time.
Reina met Celeste’s rounded, expectant gaze. It annoyed her, for it dangled a notion like a bone beyond reach: the idea of rekindling everything she had dreamed for her future before the dinner party had gone to shit.
“What else can I say?”
Celeste was displeased by the answer. “I want you to admit that I was right. You brought Do?a Ursulina to me.”
Reina deserved the blame and wouldn’t deny it. She was just caught in disbelief that Celeste couldn’t pick a better time to throw the first stone.
Celeste stared at her hands, which she wrung until white. She exhaled. “I’m sorry—I just feel like my autonomy was taken away from me. Like one moment everything seemed okay, and the next I was closing my eyes because I fully believed I was about to die. And I want you to acknowledge that. My concerns were not without reason.”
Reina nodded feverishly. The memory was an incendiary one for her as well. “It was my fault. I take full responsibility, and I know saying sorry is not enough. Just trust that I’m always going to carry this—what I did.” She reached for Celeste’s wrist and squeezed it to prove she meant it. “How can I make it up to you?”