Eva’s fingers dug into her curly bangs, as a reminder that the antlers were hidden beneath her mane. With the ability to see the game’s magic, she would have an unfair advantage if she dared play. Had she any escudos, she would join. So, for now, she just watched, taking note of how the nozariel who had served them the cachapas was part of the throng. On his break, perhaps, gambling away his earnings.
Flanked by the crowd, six gamblers faced the arbiter’s table, where he had a wheel and a spinning figurine. The Calamity wheel was split into seven equally sized pie pieces, each painted with an illustration, now faded, depicting the disasters Ches inflicted on the land after Rahmagut dared call himself a god. Every player chose from one of seven cards: the earthquake, the flood, the plague, the horde, the day of shrouded sun, the star fall, and the legion of valcos. And the final card would go to the arbiter.
The figurine was in the likeness of Ches, who was a robed man with a drawn blade pointed at the sky, and it had a winding crank at the back. The arbiter inserted each card into the free wooden hand of the figurine, and a sliver of gold geomancia wormed its way into the plague card, marking it as the winning card.
The players each began calling cards, and as they did, the geomancia thread slithered into another free card, eventually ending up in the arbiter’s card, the horde, which no one else chose. Eva saw the truth unfold with her jaw lowering, just as she noticed his hands beneath the table, working the spell manipulating the winning thread to move into his card. Then the arbiter wound and spun the figurine.
“Ches wrecked the world with his ire, slaughtering nozariels and valcos in his pursuit of punishing the defiant Rahmagut! How will the world end this time? Are the gods on your side?”
When the thing stopped on the horde card, the gamblers threw their hands in the air, bemoaning their loss. And the arbiter only smiled. His pockets already brimmed with escudos, but he pretended to be magnanimous and dumped the winnings back on the table, for the men to keep gambling on the promise of a future win.
He was a cheat and a thief.
Eva could play; she could use her innate ability to see the glittering thread and choose the winning card. If the arbiter lost all his money to her, he would only deserve it. But the plan would be too simple, with too many variables to control. Instead, Eva allowed herself to spectate another round and waited for the nozariel man to choose his card, the day of shrouded sun, which coincidently already had the winning thread. If the arbiter were a just man, and this were a just world, he would be the winner.
The nozariel was worthy of winning, Eva decided, for having to live in a world where humans only saw him as wicked and lesser. At that moment she could only think of Do?a Rosa. Of the fear in her eyes when they’d met Eva’s as she was dragged away. At the realization that Eva was as cowardly and corrupt as the people of Galeno, who used her only to later judge her and condemn her to death.
Within the crowd, Eva clamped her hands and twisted her fingers. A simple litio ward came to her, bright and purposeful, and she used it to stop the glittering thread from being forced to leaving the nozariel’s card by the arbiter’s cheating magic.
Her lips curled to a smile as she beheld the arbiter. His look of concentration intensified while he tried forcing the winning thread to move. But Eva was stronger. The fact made her brim her with surprise, then satisfaction. She shouldn’t feel astounded. She’d always had an aptitude for casting. Against her litio protection, the arbiter had no choice but to despair as the figurine stopped on the card with the day of shrouded sun, and the crowd witnessed the nozariel become the winner. A roar exploded within the throng. Maybe there was satisfaction in it, that the arbiter hadn’t won this time.
Eva’s cheeks burned with delight. She hoped Do?a Rosa could witness this, how Eva had the courage and the capability to set things right. She returned to the inn with her heart still soaring afterward. Javier watched her return with wide eyes. He looked even handsomer when he was surprised. It melted any last doubts she might have had.
23
The Fair Demon
Eva had always imagined her wedding as an event loaded with strong emotions. Love. Hate. It all depended on whom she’d be marrying, really. Ages ago, when she’d been just a girl, she saw herself falling in love with a Galeno boy of base birth. In that fantasy, she was happy for her wedding because her family had conditioned her into believing she didn’t deserve better. Later, while courting Don Alberto, all she could think was of how much she would hate the moment of signatures and of vows—and the revel afterward where everyone was merry but her.
Neither was to be her destiny, and for this she couldn’t be happier. With just three signatures, she was bound to Feleva ?guila’s valco son. There had been no room for hate or love as Eva signed her name onto the document spelled with iridio. Only the smug satisfaction of knowing she was taking ownership of her life and that the son of the legendary valco actually wanted her. It was like she was breaking out of the cage bridling her hunger, and now her magic ached to bloom.
They celebrated with a bottle of cheap rum and a roasted chicken. Eva drank until giddy, as Javier didn’t pause in replenishing her goblet. By midday she was so disoriented that he paid for two rooms at the inn and walked her to hers, where she collapsed on a damp mattress that cried loudly under her weight. He left her there, murmuring something about being next door. But by then Eva was drowning in sleep.
Eva woke hours later at sunset. Her mouth tasted vile; her temple throbbed. She left the bed wondering why she was alone and if Javier had left her behind.
The room was outfitted with a grimy mirror, reflecting a brown-skinned young woman who looked as nasty as she felt. Her eyes were puffy, her mane matted to the side she had slept on. Eva took the time to wash the sleepiness off and braid her hair, despite its very obvious need for a combing.
Her traveling sack had been carried up to the room somehow, comforting her that she hadn’t been abandoned. Javier was already a man worthy of her trust—letting her have her space, allowing her to sleep off the hangover without tricking her or demanding they consummate their union.
She walked out to the hallway, where the faint buzz of conversation from the downstairs common area trailed up. She went to the room next door, the one Javier had talked about paying for, and knocked. The door clicked and was nudged open slightly, until he realized it was her.
Eva met a sight she didn’t expect. Javier’s chest was uncovered by the shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders. His skin was hairless and pale, free from sunspots or scars, the muscles beneath angled like rippling ropes. A slim silver pendant hung from his neck, the crystal sloshing with a dark liquid Eva assumed was iridio. He needed to eat more, she thought vaguely, then immediately felt her cheeks growing warm.
She averted her gaze to the rudimentary room behind him, with its unmade bed and desk cluttered with his traveling assortments.
With a hand lazily pushing back his silky hair, he said, “You’re awake? Feeling better now?”
A witty reply eluded her. Thankfully, he allowed her into the room so she wouldn’t feel awkward standing under the doorway marveling like a fool.
“I was feeling bad?” she murmured as her weight made his bed creak underneath her.