“The guests have all arrived, and you still look like this,” Pura said.
Eva couldn’t tell if this was a question or an accusation. She shrugged. She wore the same dress from her morning ride, and the hems of her skirt were muddied from the harbor’s detritus.
“I have time. I just had an errand to run,” she lied with a whine.
Pura clicked her tongue and grabbed Eva by the arm, then herded her back into the house. It bustled with servants running this way and that, frantically carrying platters of food and overfilled goblets. Tradition dictated the guests ate as much as their bellies could handle before the wedding ceremony in the cathedral so that they could drink as much as they could handle during the evening reception. The urge to weasel out of Pura’s grip was bright in Eva’s chest, but she played along to avoid any interest being drawn to her letter.
“What are we doing here?” Eva asked, gesturing to their grandfather’s study, which was several hallways away from her room. “Shouldn’t I be, you know, getting ready?”
“Because I told her to bring you here,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Do?a Antonia carried a heavy perfume of honeysuckle as she entered the governor’s study, gesturing for Eva to follow her. Eva complied, her grip on the envelope growing slick, even as the thought of making a run for it nearly electrified her soles. Don’t bring attention to it, she had to remind herself.
Pura closed the door behind her, and the sounds of the hacienda were forgotten in the dark stuffiness of the room, save for the gentle rustling and mewling of the babe in Pura’s bundle.
Her grandmother wore a rich indigo dress, and her hair was braided up in an intricate hairdo adorned with pearls and tiny gems. “Eva, I realize this is last-minute,” Do?a Antonia said, “but a marvelous opportunity just came up.”
Eva’s belly clenched. Her opportunity was in the letter. In the future she was carving for herself.
“I was just chatting with the queen mother, Do?a Orsalide Silva; she’s the guest of honor tonight, aside from the bride and groom—but you know what I mean. We’ve been sharing correspondence for a while, and in the past, she’s mentioned how she’s got this grandson who, to put it bluntly, is without much purpose and who’s at risk of wasting away his life to vices, like Néstor did,” Do?a Antonia said with tight lips, and Eva stared at her feet. Her boots were muddy, and her soles were on the verge of divorcing from the leather. “She just told me she brought that grandson to the wedding. So I told her I have a granddaughter who is wasting away with daydreams and who’s apt to be spirited away by some demon or another any night now.”
Eva pressed on her worn boot hard, drawing a sharp pain to her toe. Do?a Antonia was not wrong.
“She wasn’t intrigued, of course—young women without an interest in motherhood are useless to a person of her stature. That was until I told her this granddaughter of mine is valco.”
With her nostrils flared, Eva met her grandmother’s eyes. Her valco blood was the only reason her life was miserable and why she had an escape to begin with…
“And now she’s extremely interested. The Silvas are close business partners with the ?guilas from Sadul Fuerte, who are all valcos. They see your blood as a boon.”
Pura squealed in delight.
Eva couldn’t bring herself to breathe. She merely listened.
“Can you imagine, marrying a prince? A far-off prince with absolutely no chance at the throne, but a prince all the same!” Her grandmother’s eyes twinkled. “Oh—like I always say, the Virgin does things for a reason. This could be the opportunity I’ve been praying for since your engagement to Don Alberto fell through. You would bring so much honor to this family, tying our name to the Silvas. If they’re able to solidify their reign, this could mean many more unions between our families. Picture it: a king with Serrano blood.”
Do?a Antonia crossed herself, while Pura squealed again. Both with a joyfulness Eva couldn’t even fathom tasting.
“I knew all this hard work we put into raising you as a proper lady would pay off someday, despite your breed. Oh, don’t give me that look. You know we can never ignore or forget what you are, and your tendencies to this witchery certainly don’t make it any easier. Blame your monster of a father, if there is anyone to be blamed here.”
Eva’s belly tightened and twisted. But she couldn’t grow angry at her grandmother. If anything, mirth blossomed and brought a smile to lips. Eva humored it, actually, and allowed Do?a Antonia to believe her happiness came from the matchmaking.
No, Eva’s delight crawled out of a dark place, all claws and sneering teeth. For she was going to rob the Serranos of this future. Eva wasn’t a piglet to be sold off to the highest bidder. As her grandmother often said, she was a monster like her father, bringing milk snakes and flying bulls to their home. And she was going to take away their say on her future, their anticipated bride price, and this frivolous dream of a Serrano monarch.
Her grandmother went on, oblivious. “Or, like I said before, maybe this was the Virgin’s plan all along as well, if it positions us to become equals to the Silvas. This also comes with great timing to what I’ve been discussing with the governor about your future.”
“Discussing what?”
Do?a Antonia hesitated, gulped. She averted her gaze like she was unsure of the words she wanted to say. “Mateo and I talked. We agreed to send you to a sisters’ convent. But this changes everything. Besides, I know a convent would be very harsh on someone such as yourself.”
Eva forced out one croaky breath of disbelief. “Someone such as myself?”
“A valco with an affinity for magic,” Pura said gently as she rocked her stirring baby, like she was trying to steer the conversation somewhere positive.
But Do?a Antonia would have none of it. After all, her unforgiving honesty was her greatest weapon: “A spoiled young lady with a demon inside her.” Her eyes bulged, her nostrils flaring. “When you hear the river, it’s because it carries stones. I was right about you all those years. But it will not be our problem anymore.”
A hush draped the room, heavy and caustic, daring Pura and Eva to have any objections. Eva supposed her grandmother was tired of pretending. She allowed it, even as her chest ached for a do-over, wounded from the love she carried for her family. But Do?a Antonia was right. She had been born different, and soon it would never again be their concern.
Pura glanced at Eva with that rueful gentleness she’d inherited from Dulce. A soft, but weak, heart. She didn’t have the courage to contradict the matriarch, not even when her face was clearly painted with regret.
Finally Do?a Antonia said, “So you can have that choice. And when you’re older and you mature some more and you realize how I’ve only done my best to look out for you, then you can thank your grandmother.”
“A convent or a prince,” Eva repeated with a bitter smile.
“See how good I am, giving you such an impossibly good alternative? I trust you will choose the path that will bring honor to your family name—that will redeem the crimes of your father and make me overcome my grief for Dulce.”