“I have my methods, which are none of your concern,” Celeste snapped.
Eva’s glare was a fiery lash. “Why don’t you just wait it out here?” She snapped with equal ardor.
“Because Reina knew about this house, and now all of you know as well. I don’t trust you won’t go running to Father to tell him about me and Maior.”
At one point, Reina had considered that exact plan.
“I’ll be in Tierra’e Sol until Father’s ready to apologize and I’m ready to forgive him for forcing this on his only daughter.”
Reina crossed her arms like an armor about her, the circumstances tasting bitter in her mouth. Celeste was a willful creature. Her ignorance about Tierra’e Sol was nothing more than a stroke of luck—or perhaps she was right to trust the Liberator with her safety even if he lived so close to the tomb. For now, Reina would hold her tongue, especially in this room where everyone was ready to judge her.
Truth was, she desperately ached for the promise of a new heart. Her enslavement to iridio potions was the worst turn in a series of one crisis after another. Ches’s golden blade only proved Rahmagut’s favor was possible, and with Maior and Celeste, it was nearly at their fingertips.
Still, she could only hold this truth for so long. Once they arrived in Tierra’e Sol, Reina pledged to lay all the cards on the table. She would beg Celeste to reconsider, to give the few ounces of blood needed to invoke Rahmagut. Celeste was stubborn, true, but she would see how much Reina needed this. Their friendship should be strong enough to overcome the return of Rahmagut’s Claw.
32
The Dreaming Lady
Rather begrudgingly, Celeste and Reina explained the purpose of the house and its secret treasure: the iridio table that carved tunnels to anywhere in the continent, as long as it was a connection made through the mineral veins beneath the earth. Gegania was a marvel of geomancia. A relic built with care and bolstered by every passing generation of Celeste’s maternal line. It needed time to create said tether to the coast of the Cow Sea, Celeste announced, for there was no direct vein to Tierra’e Sol; thus it was to become their roof and haven for the next few days.
As Eva took it all in, she understood it was the reason why the corridors of Gegania shuddered with the spark of an enchantment, why every wallpapered wall breathed and every windowsill glimmered under the Páramo sun. The house was magic. And with its multitude of rooms and hallways, it was easy to get lost in it. Past broom cupboards and closets of dusty china. Past every shadowed staircase and corridor lined by tarnished frames. The home was full of wonders, and as the moments blurred into hours, Eva found she needed the distraction.
She wandered until she came upon a doorknob that shocked her with leftover magic. When she tried it, the room opened like it was meant to be hers.
She stepped in and discovered bookshelves hugging every wall, save for the tiny space where a window allowed for afternoon light to spill onto a desk. A large book lay on it, the title The Power of Suns inlaid in gold on the spine. Fingertips had lifted dust from its cover, as if it had been recently used. The title made her think of Javier, of what he was calling her as of late: his fallen star.
A soft cough stopped her from opening the book. Eva turned, quickly, which made her look all the more guilty of snooping.
Reina was standing under the doorframe. “Brought you mondongo,” she said as she extended two wooden bowls to Eva. They sloshed with a thick and steaming ocher stew.
Eva watched the bowls with suspicion before taking them. “Thank you,” she said.
“Maior made it with the tripe she was losing her mind about. She was too shy to bring it herself. She—uh—doesn’t like Javier.”
When she didn’t turn to leave right away, Eva wondered if she was expecting her to appreciate the food in her presence. Reina’s chest pulsed with wisps of a blue hue.
“Sorry about earlier,” Reina said.
It was not what Eva had been expecting.
“I was… rude… to you.”
Eva’s lips opened in understanding. “It’s all right. You probably thought, with how despicable Javier is, that I would be awful, too.”
The jab at Javier brought a small curl to Reina’s lips. She had scars on her lips and chin, severe lines telling of a violent past. Still, everything else about her was in perfect agreement: Lush eyebrows and evenly pigmented skin made for the sun. Curly baby hairs disobeying her braid and framing her face. Tight muscles pulling her posture erect. Tamarind eyes. Without any effort at all, she was pleasant to look at.
“Do you know him well?” Reina said. “I never saw you in Sadul Fuerte.”
Eva was ashamed of the answer. “It doesn’t take long to understand why people hate him.”
“I couldn’t have said it better.” Reina chuckled and made to leave.
“Did you know you have iridio in your heart?” Eva blurted out her guess.
Reina paused and spared her a fleeting glance of tamarind. “It’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it? It’s the kind of stuff I would know, you know?”
So Reina was the nozariel with the heart of iridio that Javier had talked about. “Why do you have iridio in your chest? Are you a master of it?” Eva’s mind churned with a million ideas. Of the possibility of a mentor. Of a teacher she could lean on instead of needing Javier’s guidance.
The question was the wrong one. Reina’s expression shriveled into a look of distrust. But instead of lashing out like Javier always did, she said, “I need iridio. I don’t want it. So no.”
“What about Ches’s Blade? You wield a gift from a god.”
Reina rested her hand on the golden hilt. “I don’t trust it—but I also don’t want to leave it for anyone else to take. It feels wrong not to use it, you know, since it’s been given only to me?”
“Why don’t you trust it?”
Reina’s lip curled, more to a sneer. “If it’s given by Ches, then it’s probably a tool against Rahmagut.”
“And you are Rahmagut’s follower?” Eva forced the name out without flinching.
Reina’s jaw muscles rippled before she said, “I used to pray to Ches every day. I would split my meals with him, like he expects. I would take note of his days of celebration. I thought he was my god. Not the Virgin or any of the others.” Her brows descended, and there was a wound in the look she gave to the floor between them. “Yet he was never present when I needed him. If this blade proves his existence, then it hurts even more to know he ignored me all this time.”
She pointed to the window, where the dying day was clear and cloudless, the streak of Rahmagut’s Claw emerging on the steely canvas. “Rahmagut is real, too. His star showed up exactly when my grandmother said it would. The damas exhibit all the signs. They have power that wouldn’t be there otherwise. Rahmagut’s void magic is the reason I’m alive. He is not absent to me. Even my iridio heart is a piece of his puzzle. He may be the god of the Void, but how do I know everything said about him isn’t half-truths and lies? Everyone in Sadul Fuerte fears my grandmother, yet she saved my life when she didn’t have to. Understanding magic, even void magic, doesn’t make you evil.”