Page 40 of The Truth About Myths
Henrique increased the speed of his steps.
Rafaela pressed his arm. "Darling, if you go any faster, these slippers will torture my toes. Why race after the princess, anyway? My husband's protégé is a boring stick in the mud. He won't dishonor her."
"He can stay in the mud until it is dry. I’m curious about the maze, that’s all."
She sank her feet on the grass and pointed to the Minotaur sculpture guarding the entrance. "My husband adores the myth of how Ariadne gifted Theseus with a spool of thread so he could defeat the monster and leave the labyrinth. Some say the Minotaur represents our deepest fears. I have nightmares about its hideous horns."
"Nonsense. The Minotaur is an allegory for humanity's basest desires." The creature was the son of a goddess and a bull. It didn't get baser than that.
"I won't enter."
"I've seen it from above. It is a spiral with branching exits every seven feet. I can navigate it with ease."
Canastra strolled along with his companions.
Rafaela threw herself in Henrique's arms. Canastra eyed his wife’s spectacle and frowned. Then he averted his face and continued on the graveled path.
What in blazes was she doing, taunting her husband like that? The fiery duchess would get him expelled from the castle with her overtures. Frowning, Henrique planted her to her feet and stepped back.
Rafaela whirled to leave. "I bid youadieu. The laundry maid needs me—"
Henrique caught her arm. "Not until you tell me what is going on."
Her carefree smile faded, and she touched the paw-shaped leaves covering the maze's wall. "Have you ever been in love?"
Henrique had lost the royal couple and was fast losing his patience. "What does love have to do with this? The way you throw yourself in my arms every time your husband appears? If you are trying to incite a duel, you must know honor wouldn't allow me to kill him. Is this your plan? Do you wish to become a widow, Rafaela?"
"Of course not. I love him." Her black eyes turned liquid.
"Then why?"
She looked at him, and such hurt glimmered from her gaze that Henrique wondered how she managed her fun-loving façade.
Her chin trembled. "I love him, and well… my husband loves Spain."
Henrique brushed her arms and pulled her into a brotherly hug. Was all humanity blind? Rafaela was utterly different from Canastra. To think they could share anything more than a few grunts in an unlit bedroom was society's greatest lie.
"I'm sure he cares for you. Most husbands can be cold during the day, but at night, they—"
"He doesn't visit my room. I'm hopeless, aren't I?" She smiled, cleaning tears from her eyes and smearing her face powder. "Desperate for my husband's affection, trying to make him jealous when he clearly doesn’t care."
"I would gladly help, but—"
"Thank you, oh, thank you! No one in Spain dares to come close to me. He is too powerful. But he has no power over you. I'm sure he will notice me if he thinks you are interested."
She kissed his cheek and skipped away.
Henrique's shoulder deflated. This stay couldn't possibly get more complicated. Shaking his head, he entered the maze. The evergreen walls raked his clothes. Their height was five inches taller than he, swallowing the sunlight. Closing his eyes, he visualized what he saw through his window. Right, left, right, center, three rights. Yes. He grinned. How easy it would be to surprise them in the center. Isabel's face would be priceless, with the bonus of curtailing their time alone.
Henrique's pulse quickened as he approached the last bend. Water dripping and murmured voices sounded closer. He was almost at them. Clenching his hands, he emerged at the central square.
A fountain gushed there, indeed, but its only dweller was a statue of Theseus killing the Minotaur. The royal couple had vanished. Henrique ran his fingers through his hair and clenched his jaw. Where did they go?
A shape detached itself from the shadows.
Henrique narrowed his eyes. "Almoster? Why are you haunting the maze like a golden-haired Minotaur?"
Pedro Daun strode near. He had ditched the military uniform and wore a black frock coat, his blond hair hidden underneath a tricorn. Anne wasn’t with him. Still, Pedro didn’t look like he was on holiday.
