Page 104 of Mistress of Bones
“To the woman I brought to Cienpé: Azul del Arroyo. Have you met her yet?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure, no. You sneaked in without my knowledge, how could I have known who you returned with?”
Nereida frowned slightly. “My apologies. I spoke without thought.”
“And where is she?”
“Esparza was to bring her to Casa Rojita after conducting some business.”
Ah, De Anví realized, the mysterious second arrangement Esparza had mentioned but withheld from him. Picking their way throughthe crowd, they continued in silence, Nereida likely putting the final pieces of her plan into place. De Anví simply relished the joy of walking close by her side. The Witch’s revenge would be harsh and cruel—of this, he had no doubt—so he might as well enjoy the moment while it lasted, minus thoughts of bloody fingers.
Casa Rojita was unsurprisingly full of people, and a few extra tables and stools and benches had been dragged outside. Merriment was in the air, in the food, in the drinks. It filled their senses as they made their way to the guest rooms on the second and third floors.
The room Nereida opened was small, with a simple bed, a stool, and a narrow window. No Esparza, no woman.
“You must have paid well,” De Anví commented, “to ensure this room’s availability during Noche Verde.” Another cursory survey of the room. “Not that it can fit many.”
At the lack of response, he looked at Nereida and found her gaze fixed on him.
“Save your looks of worry, De Guzmán,” he told her. “I am not yet keeling over. Doubt it not, the Witch will take her time.”
Nereida looked torn at his words, then determined.
“No, don’t look like that either,” he said with a grim smile. “It was my choice. Don’t take it upon yourself to help me. You owe me no debt.”
Nereida offered no reply, just stood by his side and gazed out the window. But as time went by, she grew restless once again. What a shock this night had been for De Anví. What a myriad of expressions he had gotten out of her. He had known them to be there, hidden by what she wished others to see, and he welcomed seeing them in the flesh.
“Do you think my brother was speaking the truth?” Nereida asked in a quiet voice, rubbing her pouch beneath her waistcoat.
“About his hand in your sister’s death?”
“Yes.”
De Anví pondered this for a few seconds. “Perhaps. The approach of death brings forth all the regrets, all the truths.” He shouldknow—he carried his own regrets about that night like a heavy cloak that refused to be put away in the winter trunk.
“I cannot make myself believe it,” she said, her voice cracking. De Anví fisted his hands so he wouldn’t reach out to comfort her. Nereida was too proud for such a gesture unless she invited it. And Nereida was far from inviting. “Si-so was always there, our pillar. Always dependable. How could this happen? He said… he said there was a witness to Edine’s killing, that nothing could’ve been done. He never mentioned he was close by.”
“It might not be the truth of what happened, but what he feels is the truth. Perhaps the passage of time and guilt has warped his memories of the event.” He watched Nereida’s expression become cold again, composed. “Whatever happened, he was not by your sister’s side. He could not stop the blade that killed her. It was not guided by his hand.”
Nereida said nothing, and they fell into silence until she began to pace the small room.
“They’re taking too long,” she said.
“Could this Del Arroyo have gone ahead with the next part of the plan?”
Nereida shook her head. “No. Something must have gone wrong.”
“Where would the next logical place be, for her to go to?”
“De Gracia.”
“Is that where you’ve been hiding?”
“Yes.” She strode for the door.
De Anví hurried to follow.
“Does it have something to do with the marquess’s murder and the attempted kidnapping of his daughter?”
