Celeste raised her eyebrows at the first man who opened his mouth to utter an objection. Don Enrique didn’t miss the expression, and he watched. But the man’s conviction visibly evaporated against the ?guilas.
It made Reina want to smile.
They crossed halls supported by pillars carved with the anthem of their new national identity. Images of laurels, rearing stallions, and orchids adorned every dark wood doorframe and love seat–sized bench. The primary tricolor flag of Venazia hung from the doors of meeting rooms and offices.
“G-good day, Do?a Ursulina—you’re in town,” a stout man stuttered as Do?a Ursulina strutted into the final waiting room of their journey. He flipped through the ledger of appointments nervously.
Do?a Ursulina was a whole head taller than him. She was satisfied with the obvious apprehension in the man’s eyes, a look everyone in this building seemed unable to hide at the sight of her. Reina had a feeling it wasn’t Do?a Ursulina’s height or her high-browed condescension sparking their fear but her well-earned reputation as a master geomancer.
“Our appointment is for the morrow, but we decided to come today, as the iridio caskets are freshly excavated,” Do?a Ursulina said.
The stout man gave up searching through the ledger, bowed, and scurried into his boss’s office.
“You two wait here,” Do?a Ursulina commanded Celeste and Reina. “You have seen Sadul Fuerte like you wanted,” she told Reina. “Now stay out of sight. It will be some time before we are finished.” Don Enrique nodded his agreement.
The caudillo and his witch entered the trader’s office, shutting the door behind them.
“Welcome to Sadul Fuerte,” Celeste said moments later with a cheeky smile, pressing an ear to the mahogany door to eavesdrop.
Reina mimicked her with the opposite ear, facing her. “Everyone here loves you,” Reina whispered as her nozariel ears picked up small traces of the conversation within—the discussion of an increase in tiniebla activity disrupting iridio transports out of the Páramo.
“Mi papá fought in the revolution. You know that.” Celeste shrugged.
So had Reina’s, according to her father’s tales, but she swallowed down the assertion. The last thing she wanted was to dampen the mood by recounting pieces of her past. “He’s the strongest man in Sadul Fuerte.” Reina parroted the talk uttered by the help as she worked about the manor. “Because he’s valco, and he has all the iridio.”
Celeste nodded.
“With the strongest army, due to the mines’ income.”
Again, Celeste nodded.
“I hate to agree with Javier on anything—”
Celeste saw the comment coming.
“But why didn’t he crown himself king, instead of crowning Don Rodrigo?” Reina finished.
Celeste stepped closer, her reply soft like a shared secret. “The humans don’t love us. They fear us. Sure, a king can rule through fear, but it is always an uphill battle. Papi told me they would smile and bend the knee while clutching a knife at their backs, waiting for the right moment to unseat us and slaughter the last remaining valcos. Most humans only have love for their own kind. Don’t you know the only reason we weren’t enslaved, too, was because we were a war breed? The humans recognized there was a difference between your kind and mine, and they were careful not to antagonize valcos.”
Reina disliked the words, even if the tales of nozariel fighters paled in comparison to the valco legends. But her training with the machete proved she had a predisposition for combat. She dropped her gaze to the ground, discomfited at the implied meaning. How did Celeste see her, then?
“If Don Enrique were king, he could force the humans to be fair to everyone,” Reina muttered bitterly, without filter. “The Liberator wanted that change.” She’d grown up hearing of the manifestos, of the nozariels’ mistreatment spurring the revolutionaries to action. Were it not for their victory, Reina would have been born a slave to the humans, like all other nozariels before her.
Celeste shook her head. “But we don’t need them to treat us the same. The crown is in our pocket. King Rodrigo Silva can waste his life dodging those who conspire against him while he holds the crown, but he still has to do everything mi papá says. Besides, most people didn’t want a king after the revolution. But it was the caudillos with their soldiers who made that decision. Without influence and strength, you cannot have a say,” Celeste finished, with pride in her eyes that she would inherit all of it. “The common folk live safely and comfortably thanks to us.”
Reina decided not to press it.
Celeste yawned. “I grow bored of this building. Let’s go get almojábanas.”
“There’s going to be a tiniebla hunt today,” Reina added, following her out of the waiting room.
“Is that so?”
The party of ?guila soldiers left every fortnight or so, to banish the tinieblas that migrated through the wilderness and crept closer to ?guila Manor, seduced by the iridio mines sitting beneath Don Enrique’s lands. It had been one such party, almost a year ago, that had saved Reina’s life.
“I wanted to see how it is for the first time,” Reina said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Not as someone who’s been bitten, that is.”
Celeste laughed, and Reina loved being the source of it.
“I think I might be able to assist, too.”
Celeste’s smile was vulpine. “I’m impressed, Reina. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“What?” Reina stared at the marble floor with hot cheeks.
“Coming to Sadul Fuerte and now hunting tinieblas? You are up to something.”
They stood in the welcome foyer, with the bright daylight behind Celeste shadowing her features. Reina steeled herself, meeting Celeste’s smugness with a fake calm. “It is expected that you do both things.”
Celeste swayed her head, considering the limitations of Reina’s statement. They both knew: not if Do?a Laurel had a say in it. But that was only a technicality.
“And you need someone to keep you out of trouble,” Reina added, smiling despite the doubt nestling in her chest, carving space next to the budding dream of one day becoming Celeste’s equal. “Besides, you like to have me around. Just admit it.”
Celeste laughed as they exited the Palace of Commerce （and she did admit it）。 Their driver drove them to the bakery. With stomachs full of the cheesy bread, they ordered the ride back to the ?guila estate, to make it in time for the tiniebla hunt.
11
The Last Smile
They joined six soldiers on foot through the trails to the mountain. They were accompanied by two hounds and a master of galio healing for their wounds. Reina and Celeste wore boiled leather armor underneath ruanas that were more cloaks than shawls.
The trail carved through the pine forest until the elevation made the terrain too inhospitable for the conifers. Trees were replaced by prickly shrubs and frailejones. The air thinned out as well, making Reina squeeze her ruana around herself as her breaths came like puffy clouds.
Higher up, the path was treacherous, thin in some areas and hugging rocky cliffs, more appropriate for salt-licking goats than for people. They walked in a single file, the unit commander leading the way, with the healer right behind him. The group sang together to pass the time: “Soul of the Llanos,” which Reina knew, and aguinaldos, which she didn’t. At some point Celeste whipped around, pointing at the sky, where a pair of condors soared through the clouds, their black wings casting shadows thrice their size.