Chapter 12
TWELVE
Lo
Lo collapsed onto her bed as soon as she and Mayté returned to their suite.
Carmen. Poor Carmen. Yet, the more Lo thought of it, the more numb she became.
Carmen hadn’t deserved to die. She was kind.
She was only trying to protect her son. Like Mamá had been trying to protect Lo and her sisters.
But no, there was no use in dwelling on that.
She and Mayté had survived the round. Mayté even had gotten lotería.
That was the thing that mattered. Life would go on. As long as they survived.
After the game had ended, Misterioso had dismissed them.
They were free to do as they pleased until the next round that evening.
Lunch wouldn’t be formally served, but instead everyone could order what they wanted.
Apparently, the cooks could make any dish the contestants dreamed of.
All they had to do was ring the bell on the table next to the door, and, like magic, a servant would deliver the meal they desired most.
Lo sat up, leaning against the fluffy, silken pillows, which must have been spun with magic, because just resting against them eased the tension in her tight shoulders.
“Dios mio.” Mayté leaned against the door and covered her face. “Those poor people.” Her voice shook. “They didn’t deserve any of that.” She kept her hands pressed against her face and gulped down shaky breaths.
“I know,” Lo whispered. She couldn’t stand the sight of her best friend being so upset. “But you did wonderfully. You got lotería.”
Mayté slowly lowered her hands. Her eyes glistened.
Lo patted the bed next to her. When Mayté sat, Lo put her arm around her.
“Let’s wish for desserts from far-off countries and then taste them all.
” Anything to get their minds off what had just happened.
“I want to try those pastel cookie cakes with cream in the middle—oh, and the balls of dough with ice cream inside. We can make that our theme. Only the finest desserts with a special surprise hidden within.”
“That sounds great, but … I’m not hungry.” Mayté looked down. In her gown, she resembled a princess from a storybook. Troubled and beautiful. But there was no Prince Charming to rescue her.
Not that either of them needed that.
“Lo, what happened before the game? Where were you?”
Lo tried to explain everything. It was hard to put it into words when she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it herself.
She told Mayté about trying to talk to Misterioso and her encounter with the Banker and, as briefly as possible, about how she had wandered into a room just like Mamá’s and gotten trapped.
She hated the strange look of discomfort and sympathy that crossed her best friend’s face at the mention of Mamá.
It almost made her wish she hadn’t said anything.
“There was no way out, but then I heard your voice.”
Mayté’s eyes grew.
“You called my name, and then suddenly I was back in that empty room and I was able to leave. I ran as fast as I could to the elevator.”
“Lo!” Mayté grabbed her hands. “The whole time, I was so worried. I started thinking and trying to will you to the gaming den—it worked!” She sounded breathless.
“I willed myself to choose a lucky board. And I did! Alejandro was right. Maybe we can actually win this!” She jumped to her feet.
“I need to find him. Maybe he’ll be able to tell me how we can save Carlos, too. Do you want to come?”
Lo almost agreed, but the house seemed to be giving in to Mayté’s desires. Lo herself was getting nowhere. If she were, she would have found Mamá by now. “No, I think it’ll be best if you go alone. Alejandro trusts you. He may not be so open to divulging information if I tag along.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Lo needed to figure out how to make herself useful. “Let me know what you find out—and please make sure you eat something.”
“Save me some of those sweets, okay?” With a smile and a wave, Mayté left.
Lo lifted her hand in a wave, but as soon as the door shut, she lowered it and squeezed the plush blankets until her knuckles turned white.
A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t let herself be the reason Mayté lost the game.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about Mamá either.
Lo knew in her heart; she was here somewhere …
She walked to the table by the door and picked up the bell. Tiny and silver, it tinkled when she shook it. She didn’t know what she desired anymore. The thought of sweets now made her stomach churn.
Nothing happened. Maybe the house knew she had lost her appetite.
Defeated, she returned to her bed. More than anything, she wanted a nap, but when she closed her eyes, all she could see were scattered memories from earlier. Mamá in the hallway. Finding herself trapped in that room. Carmen crumpling to the ground. Lo replayed all of it.
As she began to doze off, dreamlike fantasies mingled with her memories. This time, she caught up to Mamá. Grabbed her arm before she could vanish into thin air. Mamá slowly turned back, thick curls obscuring the side of her face.
BANG!
Gunshots rang through the air once again. Blood spurted from Mamá’s chest.
Lo yelped, but the ringing in her ears was even louder.
Mamá’s arm slipped from Lo’s grip as she toppled to the floor, into a pile of orange marigolds.
A gust of wind blew the petals away, revealing not Mamá, but Carmen.
She lay in a puddle of blood, bright and red like the roses she had formerly—and tirelessly—tended to.
A young child screamed and wailed. “Mamá! Mamá!”
Lo realized that she was the one screaming. She slapped a hand over her mouth and sat up.
Her chest heaved, and a cold sweat chilled her. It wasn’t real. That wasn’t how it happened.
But what if Mamá had died like Carmen? The two were connected by the same motivation, like a ribbon intertwining their hearts. What if the same ribbon of fate had strangled them both?
No. Lo abruptly sat up, ignoring the ache in the back of her skull. It wasn’t true.
Her mind wandered to her sisters. How were they doing? Maybe now, with their father gone, Sera would be able to do more than just studying and needlework. Maybe Sofía would be able to spend her days in the stable without interruption.
Lo missed them.
She desperately wanted to see them. Her heart raced. “Please …,” she whispered. “Let me see them.” If it worked for Mayté, then it could work for her. “Show me my sisters.”
Just when she was about to give up, the mirror across the room flickered. Her reflection morphed into the image of her sisters. They both sat on a bed. Sera brushed through Sofia’s curly hair.
Lo scrambled to get a closer look. Were they okay? Were they sad? Were they taken care of? Were they—
The image changed into her father lying in a pool of blood.
With a scream, Lo recoiled. Why was this happening? Her hand shot to the vanity, knocking over jewelry as she searched for something to destroy the mirror, but when she looked back up the glass was back to normal.
Did her sisters hate her for killing their father?
Murder was a sin. She had heard that preached countless times. But what about when the person in question was a monster? Her father would have done terrible things to her—and eventually her sisters—if she hadn’t acted.
He’d deserved to die.
A knock at the door tore her from her thoughts. That must be lunch after all. She hopped off the bed and hurried to answer the door. What she didn’t expect to see was the Banker holding a tray with a silver-domed platter. “Hello,” he greeted her, voice smooth as silk.
“It’s you.” Lo stepped back, letting him into the room.
A familiar scent hit her nose, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“You actually came.” She felt like a fish about to be beheaded, wide eyes, gaping mouth and all.
She quickly pulled herself together, glancing at the tray in his hands. “You aren’t a servant.”
“I’m not. I could say something fanciful like perhaps it was your desires that pulled me here, but in reality I was intrigued by our conversation earlier.” He set the platter on the table and leaned against the wall with a smile. His gaze never left her.
Maybe now things would finally go her way.
“Couldn’t it be both?” She sweetly smiled.
“You think so?”
“I know so. What’s your name?” Lo approached him. “Surely it’s not Senor Banker.”
“You’re right.” He pushed off the wall and closed the space between them. “However, I don’t give away that information for free.” He leaned in close. Much closer than a proper gentleman should be to a lady he wasn’t promised to. Their lips were mere inches away from each other.
“Oh, really?” she purred, matching his boldness. This was fun. When all else failed, mimicking one’s opponent’s energy always worked. Let them think they had control over the interaction. “I must thank you for this wonderful suite.”
“And how will you do that?” he asked. For just a moment—in the blink of an eye, really—his wolfish grin slipped and his eyes dulled as if his mind had gone elsewhere.
In that moment, Lo realized exactly why this was so fun.
Men were always a game to her, a self-imposed competition to see how quickly she could get what she wanted, but, for the first time, she had a companion playing with her.
Playing her as much as she played him. Flirting with him felt so familiar, because he treated her exactly how she treated other men: saying and doing all the right things until he won his prize.
But what was that prize for him? What did he want from her?
This had never happened before. She didn’t know what to say. “I—I’ll have to think about it.”
“Mm.” The Banker slickly moved away. “Do that, and perhaps you can tell me another time.” He turned for the door.
“Wait!”
He ignored her.