Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Mayté
Mayté strode the hallways with determination.
Along the way, she passed Don Zelaya and Xiomara exploring the house, their eyes wide with wonder.
Was the house leading them to what they desired most?
Were they aware of the possibility? She certainly hoped not.
She and Lo needed every advantage they could get.
She rounded the corner, glad that she remembered the way to the library.
Her heart pounded with anticipation. She hoped more than anything that Alejandro would be in there, but even if he wasn’t, maybe she could uncover some clues hidden away in the books.
Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way for three people to win.
With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
But this wasn’t the library.
Instead of endless bookshelves crowding the walls and a cozy fire giving off a soft glow, this room was much simpler and brighter.
The blue sky shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing an azure ocean in the distance.
This had to be an illusion, right? Fortune’s Kiss had been nestled inland, in the heart of Milagro.
Against the wall was a shelf full of gleaming arrows that looked as if they had been dipped in crystallized light.
Next to them were archery bows gilded in gold.
Further ahead were targets. Once upon a time, she had learned archery.
Abuelita had insisted that Mayté hone many skills so she could stay well rounded.
Back then, it had been a fun way to blow off steam.
Her aim had been quite sharp, too. But that was then.
After her family had lost everything, they could no longer afford to pay for lessons, and even if they somehow could have, they needed her home to look after her brothers.
Surely she had become quite rusty. Still—
She grabbed a bow and arrow and took aim. That part, she still remembered. Her fingers trembled—and she lowered the bow with a sigh.
A mixture of sorrow and frustration clawed at her throat.
Archery—a reminder of what her life once had been and never could be again.
Where had the library gone? That was where she needed to be. Not here. If the house kept shifting the rooms around, it could take hours to find it. She didn’t have that kind of time. Or patience.
But maybe she could use this moment to test the house’s magic. What she wanted most was to talk with Alejandro and discover the key to winning the game. She closed her eyes and focused on that desire. But her mind drifted to her art. Painting always calmed her and helped her gather her thoughts.
The bow slipped from her fingers and landed with a clang.
The noise was much softer than it should have been.
As if the bow wasn’t nearly so big and heavy as it had seemed.
Mayté’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped.
It wasn’t a bow on the floor, but instead a painter’s pallet.
In her hand, the arrow was now a paintbrush.
The shelf was full of tubes of paint and other supplies.
The targets had transformed into blank canvases.
The room had morphed into something just for her—a studio.
She picked up the palette and squirted paint on it.
Then she snatched several brushes and approached the canvases.
She chose the one in the center. It didn’t take long for her to begin painting.
First the sky with smooth puffs of white clouds and the glowing orb that was the sun.
It was easy, since azure paint was in endless supply here.
Ironic. She didn’t try to make it polished or perfect; instead, she focused on the effect of each stroke. It felt like flying.
Before she knew it, she began painting a portrait of Alejandro against the beautiful blue backdrop. His face had ingrained itself in her mind. His charming smile. His bright hazel eyes and his stark black hair.
This, her art, was the reason she was here risking it all.
She couldn’t let herself forget. Her mother had told her to marry a good suitor who would let her paint.
But that soon changed to: “Painting is only for the privileged.” Then to: “You don’t have time to paint.
” And in a way, her mother was right. The only time she truly had to herself was in the dark of night and the wee hours of the morning when everyone else was slumbering.
Her hand trembled. What if this was her last painting?
She couldn’t shake what had happened to Senor Vásquez.
How many people had she encountered in Milagro who had suffered the same fate?
The beggars who barely lifted their heads and didn’t notice when people dropped a coin into their cup.
The vendors who suddenly stopped selling their wares at the street mercado.
The nobles everyone whispered about who no longer left their homes.
No matter what, she had to find a way to make it out of here with Lo, Carlos, and all their dreams intact.
And she would. This painting was proof that the house favored her; with its magic, they would win.
“Agh!” Something sharp dug into her palm, and she dropped the paintbrush.
But it was an arrow once again. The palette in her hand shifted back into a bow before her eyes.
Mayté set it aside and studied her palm.
The razor-thin cut was just deep enough to draw a thread of blood.
And the painting? She braced herself to see what had happened to her work.
The canvas had changed back into a target, but the painting of Alejandro’s face remained, run through with several arrows.
A pit formed in her stomach.
The door creaked open. “Er, am I interrupting something?” Dominic raised an eyebrow at the image on the target.
Mayté’s face warmed. To someone just stepping in, it probably looked like she was using Alejandro’s face for target practice. “N-no! I was just painting, a-and the house suddenly changed.” She yanked at one of the arrows, but it wouldn’t budge. “I know what this looks like, but really—”
“Relax.” Dominic stepped next to her, a smile playing on his lips.
“I know what you mean. The house keeps changing things around. I thought it was just subtle differences like the décor, or finding a door that hadn’t been there a few hours earlier, but it can completely transform—right in front of us. ”
She had thought the house was mainly changing for her. Was she mistaken? She didn’t dare mention anything specific about it out loud. “It’s very strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Dominic pressed his hands against the window and stared out at the ocean in awe, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “If not for the stakes, it would actually be a wonderful place to stay.”
Mayté twisted her hands together. It didn’t matter how the place dazzled. The stakes were everything.
“I’ve been meaning to ask.” He turned to her, eyes bright and cheerful once again. “My mother commissioned you, right? For a painting of the dogs?”
“Er, yes.” Mayté slowly nodded. Dios, that whole ordeal felt like a lifetime ago.
It gave her mixed feelings. A part of her wanted to be back home in a world where she and those she cared for were safe, but then she remembered how dire things had been when she left.
It was a lose-lose scenario. “I’m surprised you know about it. ”
“Of course I do.” Dominic laughed. “I was the one who wanted the painting.”
“What?” Mayté bit back a gasp.
Dominic scratched the back of his head. “Come on. It’s not that surprising. I’ve always loved art, but anything I try to make looks like a chicken dipped its claws and beak in paint and went to town with a canvas.”
Mayté burst out laughing. “Everyone has to start somewhere, you know?”
“Maybe, but I remember how you drew when we were kids. It always looked so good. I was a little jealous.”
“Really?” She had never thought anyone noticed or cared about her drawings back then. Except for Abuelita and Lo, of course.
“And now look at you.” He gestured at the ruined canvas. “Even after that boy is gone, the painting will remain. That’s amazing. An artist can take any view, any idea, any person, and make them … immortal.”
That was surprisingly insightful and deeper than she would have expected from someone like him. “And you wanted to immortalize—your dogs?”
“Something like that. If anything was to happen, I wanted to always be able to have them in eyesight.”
Mayté felt her heart soften. Even though she thought they looked more like oversized rats, it was endearing how much Dominic cared for them.
But dogs usually lived several years. It seemed a bit premature to want to immortalize them.
“I never got to finish it. I was almost done, but I couldn’t afford to get the supplies I needed. Sorry.”
“Oh, if I had known, I would have bought your supplies and lent you a room in my hacienda to work in peace.”
“Really?” She felt warm, but then a swell of sorrow chased the feeling away. They were both in Fortune’s Kiss. She couldn’t let herself grow attached to another person. Her life, along with Lo’s and Carlos’s lives, depended on it.
“Mayté?” Dominic’s voice softened.
“Yes?”
“I just want you to know, I really am sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t think the commission was meant to get finished.”
“No, not about that. About the way everyone in las grandes familias treated you. I should’ve defended you. Or, at least, ignored everyone and still talked to you. I think we could’ve been good friends.”
She didn’t know what to say. The young girl inside her who was still so incredibly hurt felt overjoyed, but the rest of her was strangely numb. “I used to have the biggest crush on you, you know.”
Now it was Dominic’s turn to look shocked. “Really? I—I had no idea.” He didn’t add any confession of his own feelings. Mayté knew he had never felt the same way about her, but it was okay. Now that it was out there, the lovestruck girl inside her could get over it.