“Not long enough for her to have done anything.”
The sound of footsteps entering the room makes me want to cry out. But I force myself still. The strain of pretending to sleep overwhelms me. I want to fling back the sheets and grab the sword hidden underneath my pillow.
But I remain motionless.
“Heavy sleeper,” one of them comments. “You stayed by the door the whole time? Other than to see the fight?”
“The whole time. Healer stopped by earlier and left tea. Said the condesa wasn’t feeling well.”
“Which she didn’t drink.”
“Maybe she doesn’t like tea,” my guard says idly.
“Probably thinks it’s poisoned.”
They move away from the bed, their footsteps fading as they head to the door.
“We had another visit from El Lobo tonight.”
“When?”
“Just now. Rumi is tending to the survivors; he might be able to learn what else they saw. The rest of the family is searching the grounds, and the captain has men on every floor. Did you hear …”
The voices cut off when they shut the door.
My breath comes out shallow and hitched. What if one of the guards identifies me to the healer? I push the thought away. No sense in worrying over something that may not happen. My mask covered every inch of my face. The murmuring stops.
Then it’s the deep quiet of night, interrupted only by the echo of my racing heart.
CAPÍTULO
The next morning my maid—Suyana—comes in early, opening the curtains and balcony door, inviting sunlight’s harsh attack. I need Luna and her cool moonlit rays. Not this sweltering heat and dry wind. I even prefer the rain. There’s something about warm weather that makes things worse. I’m already in a perpetual state of anxiety.
Another court day.
Atoc will be intolerable and unpredictable because of the events from last night. He might take his anger out on me—or worse, one of the guards might have drawn conclusions about my identity. If there’s even a hint of suspicion … I suppress a shudder. I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want to be thrown into the dungeon and rendered useless again.
I don’t want to fail.
Suyana pulls my hair into two thick braids, muttering about the knots she can’t untangle. After being stuck underneath a sweaty mask for most of last night, my hair looks like a charming home for parrots this morning.
“What did you do?” Suyana asks, holding up the end of a braid where my hair poofed out like a cloud. “That’soneknot.”
“I must have tossed around in my sleep,” I say quickly. Which is partially true. I prayed for sleep, but the whole night I couldn’t stop my mind from churning. Any moment, I expected the door to open and guards to clamor inside, shouting for my arrest. “Are we almost done?”
She pauses mid-grumble. “You’re a funny girl, Condesa.”
I hand her a navy ribbon. “What have I done now?”
“You don’t act like a condesa,” she says, tying up the end of one of my braids. “Every morning you make your own bed, pick up your clothes. When a plate of food is before you, there’s nothing delicate about your table manners. You eat like a starving wolf. You don’t like dressing up or painting your face. I can barely get you to sit still long enough to brush out the tangles in your hair. And I’ve never seen you look at yourself in the mirror. It’s strange.”
My heartbeat slips in and out of rhythm. The fear of being discovered as a fraud roars to life, ravenous and gnawing me to bits, tearing into my skin. Her list of imperfections are all wholly myself, whollyXimena,and said so casually, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
I hope.
I work for a nonchalant tone. “It’s strange I don’t fit into the box you made for me?”
The smallest of smiles. “Everyone makes boxes. It’s human, I think. You made one for Llacsans.”
