Don Enrique saw the contents and murmured his wife’s name in wonder.
“I had it delivered all the way from Fedria,” Do?a Laurel clarified for him. “Truthfully, I was waiting for a more special occasion, but I couldn’t let the fruit rot.”
“Amapola juice?” he said, awestruck.
They, like Reina, knew the tale of the amapola well: The legend of the nozariel princess Marle, who’d also given her name to the river dividing the lands of Fedria and Venazia. A tale of how the princess and a human warrior met in a battle ending in stalemate. After the battle the warrior fell hopelessly in love with the princess, but she refused all his advances. So the warrior consulted with a worshiper of Rahmagut, who gave him the local amapola and bestowed it with an incantation to tie their fates together. No matter how often the princess refused, time and fate would eventually override her stubbornness. Princess Marle’s successors were half human, half nozariel, and thus the myth had been born. The story that those who shared the same amapola would have their bands of fate tied for eternity.
“If magic is real, then why can’t the tale of the amapola also be?” She petted her husband’s freshly shaved cheek. He nodded warmly, a rare display of love Reina knew he reserved only for his do?a.
The love of family. The comfort of a partner. Both were things Reina witnessed from the fringes, in other people’s lives. The ache in her heart for that unconditional love she’d lost when Juan Vicente perished had dulled. She was numb to its hurt. Though sometimes, when she saw it in other people, so bright and unadulterated, the pain throbbed anew. As she was reminded of how utterly alone she was.
It was a foolish thought, she knew, for more important things needed her attention. But… how she longed to have that. To stare into someone’s eyes and see her home in them.
Treacherously, her gaze flitted to Celeste, her transplant heart betraying her with an inkling to the desires she denied. When she did, she found Celeste already looking at her.
“To peacetime,” Do?a Laurel said, raising the remains of her drink in a toast.
Don Enrique raised his. “To a household full of little valcos.”
They drained the goblets, and Reina imagined the bands of amapola magic weaving around them, tying their lifetimes together. Without a bismuto spell, she couldn’t see the magic, but she was sure Celeste and Javier, with their valco eyes, could.
This was a life Reina could get behind. She had a future in ?guila Manor. While Don Enrique and Do?a Laurel toasted to their destiny together, Reina prayed to Ches for the things she’d never had until now: to have a roof over her head, a family, and to be needed by the people around her.
Do?a Ursulina’s high-heeled boots clicked on the marble as she entered the hall. Her entrance disbanded the breakfast, for she was a reminder of the business she and the caudillo were due to address in the city.
Celeste clung to her father, and Reina mimicked the cue, following Do?a Ursulina to the stables and saying, “I want to go, too. Please take me.” She had ideas of what Sadul Fuerte ought to look like, but her journey into Venazia had ended before she could glimpse the city for herself. And that had been one of her many turns of good luck, for with her tail, it was impossible to hide what she was. But Reina couldn’t live hidden in ?guila Manor forever. The people of Sadul Fuerte, those who worked in the governor’s office and did business with Do?a Ursulina and the caudillo, had to see her as an active member of the household. The sooner she expedited this introduction, the safer she would feel with the promises of a life as a Duvianos successor.
Her grandmother didn’t spare her a glance. “You? You want to make your entrance to Sadul Fuerte?”
Reina grimaced. Was there some kind of decorum she needed to account for? “Not officially, like a debutante or anything.” She had heard of such things in the high society of Segolita, but she’d grown up so far removed she was sure she was missing at least several dozen details.
Laughter cold like the morning breeze bubbled from her grandmother’s lips. Those clouds threatening rain opened a slight drizzle on the outdoor walk to the parked carriages.
“If you’re going to meet the governor—I can just observe—”
Do?a Ursulina whirled on her outside the gilded carriage as the driver held the door open. Don Enrique and his progeny followed a few steps behind. “Reina, you are nozariel, with a tail. It will inspire… questions I would rather not deal with right now.”
“I’m coming as well,” Celeste stated with her brows raised high. “Reina’s yet to see Sadul Fuerte, and if I am there, they’ll think she’s my companion. No one will question it.”
Reina avoided smiling. She withheld the urge to exchange any conspiratorial glance…
“Just hide the tail under your ruana or something,” Celeste said with a shrug.
They all looked to Don Enrique for the final say-so. His demeanor still held the smile of sharing the amapola with his wife and the reaffirmation of the future prosperity awaiting them. He gave a noncommittal “Very well.”
“I shall come as well.” Javier’s voice emerged from the doorway.
Don Enrique paused, considering him with a long look. “You will present yourself to the Palace of Commerce in this condition?”
Reina took in Javier’s fine navy tunic of embroidered laurels and troupials, his trousers brown and fitted to his lean form. His attire was twice as appropriate as hers, with the richness in material and craftsmanship signaling his rank. Reina squashed the urge to slither behind Celeste, to hide her appearance from the inevitable discussion.
Javier’s nostrils flared. His red gaze battled Don Enrique’s, his lips drawing into a thin line.
Don Enrique repeated, “You will go to the city in this state and announce to all those sycophants that you, my brother, are not strong and well?”
“How would they know?” Javier said, but even as he said it, Reina knew he wasn’t the same young man who’d stumbled upon her mangled body in the mountains nearly a year ago. Or the Javier who’d hardly held back in bruising her with low blows and feigned strikes when they’d trained with their valco sword master. His skin was pale and paper-thin, the veins beneath opaque as if his blood had curdled black. He had circles under his eyes, which didn’t fade no matter how long he slept （and Reina knew, from her duties fetching food or laundry, how the caudillo’s brother spent his days sleeping away an ailment that wouldn’t leave him be）。
“Stay today and rest,” Don Enrique said, a command hiding behind some pretense of compassion. “There will be other times when your presence is needed. We are merely reviewing trade agreements with a new shipper.” He paused and waited for an objection.
Javier had none. He stomped back into the warm confines of the manor, his gaze gliding over Reina a moment before he disappeared, as the shame became all the more apparent: Do?a Ursulina’s nozariel was receiving the preferential treatment he had not.
Don Enrique and Do?a Ursulina entered the gilded carriage, and the driver promptly shut the door in Reina’s face. Another driver was summoned. Celeste and Reina were handed knitted ruanas before being ushered to the open cart following as an entourage. It wasn’t appropriate that Reina ride with the caudillo, which was just as well, for she couldn’t imagine spending the two-hour drive to Sadul Fuerte sitting across from him. Don Enrique’s guard joined the convoy, for one of the carriages was transporting iridio to the Palace of Commerce.