Page 54 of House of the Raven
“She’s my sister,” Felipe puts in, which earns him a narrow-eyed glance from Ynes.
I’ve seen such glances before. She thinks her brother isn’t behaving properly in front of me. The thing is… she doesn’t know me. I don’t care much for the stiff formalities offered in the name of my royal lineage. I love being a Plumanegra. I’m proud of my heritage and what my family and my ancestors have done for Castella, but I haven’t earned the respect they bestow upon me. I have done nothing, and now my sister is pushing me onto a path where doingnothingis exactly what I’m supposed to achieve. That’s not what I desire for myself, and I’ll continue to resist the chains of a loveless marriage and a life without purpose.
“I regret to inform you that Don Justo is not here, Your Majesty,” Ynes explains. “He had to ride further south to attend to some business. He left his deepest regrets and said you should make yourself at home.”
A sigh of relief escapes me. Ynes’s dark eyes don’t seem to miss a thing, but I don’t care. I don’t plan to make things easy for Don Justo.If I ever see him, I will let him know right away that I don’t want to be here. The more people know about it, the better.
I open my mouth to let her know as much when Emerito’s rushed steps sound behind me. His handkerchief swings from side to side as he holds it aloft. He walks on tiptoes to keep his heels from sinking into the gravelly path.
Both Ynes and Felipe regard him as if he’s a strange, exotic animal from a faraway land. He might as well be with all his finery. People out here aren’t used to the likes of him. They wear homespun fabrics and work in the fields or boats, day in and day out. What do they know of velvet doublets and beauty marks?
“Your Excellency,” Ynes bows deeply and throws a sidelong glance at her brother, who quickly mimics her. She repeats the information she just gave us.
“How unfortunate.” Emerito dabs his forehead with the handkerchief, embroidered with his initials. “When will he be back?”
“Tomorrow evening at the latest.”
My heart sinks. I’d hopedhis businesswould keep him away longer. But no matter, that simply means I have twenty-four hours to figure out an escape.
Ynes guides us inside the villa. It’s a very nice place, clean, smelling of roses, and decorated with items belonging to the region: pottery, ship wheels, seashells, and carved furniture. She guides us through the middle courtyard, where beautiful rose bushes fill the ample flowerbeds. Artfully paintedazulejosline the walls and arched entryways. The architecture is clearly influenced by Los Moros’, as it’s evident in the many ornate columns. The air is cool, perfect for sitting under the moonlight, reading a book while the sweet scent of roses tickles one’s nose.
Except beauty is no substitute for freedom.
Ynes leads me to a large bedchamber with pristine white linens and a body-length gilded mirror. A copper tub sits in the middle of the room,already steaming with hot water and swimming with red petals. The pleasant scent of aromatic oils wafts in the air.
It’s obvious that extra care has been placed into making the bedchamber perfect, but I would rather have a cot and a pail of water in a humble room, if it meant I could have a say in my own life.
I immediately let my eyes travel through the room, noting every window and door. There are plenty of exits, but there is the outer wall and Don Justo’s guards as well as my own to contend with. Things look grimmer with more potential eyes watching, but I don’t let that bring me down. I will find a way.
“I can send a few of the maids to help you bathe, Your Majesty,” Ynes says.
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I will be fine on my own.”
She seems about to object, but in the end, she asks, “What about some dinner? I can have anything you would like prepared for you.”
After the first day of travel, our food options were limited, so this sounds like a lovely offer. “If your cook knows how to prepare saffron rice, that would be wonderful. If not, anything savory would do.”
“Our cook is excellent, and she can indeed prepare that. She can add shrimp if you wish.”
“Oh, that would be divine.”
“Is that your preferred dish?” Ynes inquires with a warm smile, her demeanor so kind that I can already sense how easy it would be to grow fond of her if I were to remain here.
“No. My favorite is cochinillo, but I wouldn’t make your cook go out and find a suckling pig. Perhaps, you can make sure my cousin, Jago, also gets some of the rice.”
“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Ynes starts walking backward toward the door.
“How is life here, Ynes?” I ask.
Her eyes open wide, and she appears a bit panicked at the question.
I elaborate, hoping to ease her into trusting me with what she knows. “How is the town? Is there a lot to do?”
She seems relieved, as I suspected, and has no trouble sharing. “If you like the outdoors, yes, there is much to do. The plains and hills are beautiful, especially in the spring and autumn. Fish are plentiful in the ocean, and there is ample game for those who enjoy hunting.”
“Is that all?”
“There is a fair every April, and folk come from smaller towns to watch the dancers and bullfighters and to enjoy good food and drink. It’s a very happy time for everyone.”
