Her black hair, tinted with just a few silver strands, flows freely, and she wears a cream-colored tunic that perfectly contrasts with her skin tone.
“Your Highness . . .”
“Amapola.”
“Forgive me. I can’t forget that you’re a princess.”
“You will be one too, soon, Madeline, and you must learn never to bow your head to anyone.” She points to the armchairs, and I wait for her to sit before choosing a place for myself.
“Pride is not one of my sins.”
“In your case, it wouldn’t have anything to do with pride but with the need to assert yourself. Like me, you’re a foreigner in Sintarah, and you’ll meet people who will try to belittle you. You need to learn to stand your ground in the place that is rightfully yours.”
I smile, surprised.
“What is it?” she asks.
“May I be honest?”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t expect such a warm welcome. I mean, because I’m a foreigner. Until yesterday, I didn’t know that you were Spanish.”
For the first time since we met, she smiles. “I can hardly remember who I was before coming to Sintarah. Actually, before meeting my Zayn,” she says, I suppose referring to Kamal’s father.
“Your son told me that his father met you in a Romani caravan,” I start, feeling my cheeks warm. “Please let me know if I’m being indiscreet, but it sounds like a fairytale or the kind of cliché we read in romances.”
“It was very much like a fairytale,” she says dreamily. “From the moment we first met, he wanted me. It was love at first sight, but I fought against it because I was promised to someone else, and I knew that if I accepted Zayn’s proposal to become his wife, I would be rejected by my entire family and all my friends.”
“And yet, even with everything against you, you couldn’t resist,” I conclude.
“No. He was handsome and seemed like he knew every secret of the world. He was older, powerful, and wildly in love; Zayn would never have accepted a ‘no’. He wooed me until I confessed I was in love as well.”
“It must have been hard. I suppose gypsies also have traditions just as deep-rooted as people in Sintarah.”
“Yes, but Zayn was unstoppable at seducing me. And when I told him I loved him, he asked to meet my father. He said he was going to marry me and would be glad if he had his blessing but that he would make me his wife one way or another.”
“Jesus! And what happened?”
“My father was severe, stubborn, but also just a man. He would never have forced me to stay in our family if that meant I would be unhappy. He left it to me to decide but made it clear that if I chose my Zayn, I would be forgotten by everyone there. I wouldn’t exist in their hearts and souls anymore.”
“And despite all that, you picked him.”
“There was no choice. I couldn’t live with only half of my heart, and that’s what it would have meant to stay away from my Zayn.”
“It’s a beautiful love story,” I say, wiping away a tear and thinking about how much she had to give up to be with the man she loved.
“Also sad because I never saw my family again.”
“They disowned you, then?”
“Yes. Only one of my sisters sent me a letter once. Estrella[18] was the youngest and a thousand times more of a dreamer than I was. She also wanted to cut ties, fly away, and I think she looked up to me.”
“Why didn’t you keep in touch with her at least?”
“I tried, but my sister disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
