2. Chapter 2 #2
Her eyes widen in curiosity or amusement – I cannot tell – the same moment Salvador sucks in a breath and tenses beside me.
Perhaps I should have heeded his warning in the carriage–but without my snarky retorts at hand, I’d surely allow my dire situation to consume me.
I swallow hard, bracing myself for whatever wrath is sure to rain down upon me, but instead I'm met with a chuckle that rumbles into a hearty laugh.
For several seconds Salvador and I listen to the woman clearly in charge of this operation cackle and wipe a tear from her eye.
She presses a wrinkled hand to her chest and says, "Pardon my laughter, but for a woman from the Brogratto, you speak with the unearned confidence of a man in the High Council."
"I will take that as a compliment."
"As you should. Most people cower and stutter before me, but you show no ounce of fear. Why is that, Senorita de la Vega?"
I take a second to think through my answer but nothing of true eloquence comes to mind. Instead, I spew the truth. "In my line of work, my time is limited. One day, my sins will be my undoing. Fear is useless to me. I embrace what is and don't think about much else."
Her grin is taut across her face, and she nods in approval. "Tell me, Senorita, what do you remember of the Wings?"
I shift in my seat, slightly caught off guard by the abrupt topic change.
No one speaks of the Venturans. At least, no one who wants to keep their head attached to their body.
I was so young when the Mass Execution happened, but when I think of them, the only true memory I have is of their black feathered wings.
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still picture the mighty warriors from foreign shores flying overhead.
Bronze, sun-kissed skin; dark hair and warm brown eyes; kind smiles and an unwavering sense of duty.
But as it turns out, in a sickening twist of fate, the freedom they harnessed, the same freedom I crave desperately, still wasn't able to save them in the end.
And I know one day, I'll suffer a similar fate.
"Well, considering I was seven when the Mass Execution happened, I doubt I will have any information to share with you that you don't already know yourself, Dona."
"Humor me." She gracefully plants her left elbow on her armrest and cradles her face; her keen eyes fixed on me.
I typically don't get nervous when someone stares at me unapologetically, but for some reason, Otero's unwavering eye contact makes my skin crawl.
Never mind the fact merely speaking of the Wings is considered treason in Orlencia.
I clear my throat and shake whatever butterflies are fluttering in my stomach free and say, "Over thirty years ago, the Wings came to Orlencia as refugees and although many Dons were opposed to them integrating in society, King Armando pursued peace and unity.
The Venturans were warriors who swore to protect the kingdom in exchange for a place in our city.
Fifteen years ago, they were accused of killing the royal family in a failed coup so the Soberano had all the Wings in the city gathered and executed. "
"Interesting you would say the Venturans were accused of assassinating the royal family.
" Otero tilts her head before swiping a hand painted teacup from the end table beside her and lifting it to her rouged lips.
"Tell me, Senorita" – she swallows and sets the cup down in its matching saucer – "do you not believe the Wings committed this crime? "
"From what the old folk in the Brogratto claim, there was no actual proof the Venturans killed the king. All they were given was the Soberano's adamant claim they were guilty."
"Yet you are not convinced."
I shrug. "It doesn't make sense. The queen was a Venturan, and their son was a Half-Wing. Diego Castillo expects us to believe the Venturans, who were known for protecting their own, would slaughter their kin and renege on a promise forged in blood?"
Otero's eyes widen in surprise. "You call the Soberano by his birth name? Some would deem that a treasonous act."
We're way past treasonous speech at this point. "Then it's a good thing I don't give two shits what others think of me."
"Language," Salvador hisses from beside me.
"That's what you chime in about?" I narrow my eyes up at him. "My language? Not the treason part?"
"Speak how you like amongst the people of the Brogratto," he chastises, "but remember you sit before Dona Otero – "
"I know before whom I sit," I snap back. "And I will not change how I speak." There’s a high chance I don’t walk out of this room alive, so might as well be myself.
The Dona waves a dismissive hand. "It's all right, Salvador.
As crude as you are, mi querida," she turns her attention back to me, "you are certainly a breath of fresh air.
" A brief silence stretches between us, as if she's contemplating if she should ask her next question.
"What do you know of a Venturan Rebellion? "
For the entirety of my life, I've not wasted more than two minutes thinking about the Wings, and here I'm being interrogated about them in the house of the wealthiest woman in the city. I wish I could say I've been in stranger positions, but that would be a lie.
Salvador clears his throat, reminding me I have yet to answer the Dona's question.
"There have always been rumors that some of the Wings survived the Mass Execution.
Wishful thinking by the older generation.
But if you're asking me if I've seen a Venturan strutting around the Brogratto recently, then the answer is no. "
"What would you say," she says softly with a twinkle of mischief in her hazel eyes, "if I told you some of the Venturans did survive."
"Then I would hope they escaped Orlencia."
The Dona shakes her head, and the movement sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "They're still in Orlencia."
A gasp escapes my lips, and I lean forward. "How can that be possible?" I whisper as my eyes dart around the room, subconsciously waiting for the Soberano's henchmen to leap from their hiding spots and drag us all to the executioner's block. "They cannot hide with wings in plain sight."
Otero takes a long sip of her tea, staring at the wall behind me as if she was stuck in a memory.
"I was one of the few who welcomed the Venturans to our shores.
When Diego took over after the king was assassinated, all who supported, sympathized, or employed the Wings were imprisoned or exiled to the Brogratto.
Now it is overcrowded and riddled with crime.
Under Diego's reign, the rich became richer, and the poor were crushed.
I do what I can without the Soberano knowing – supplying food, medicine, clothing – but unfortunately, I am still only one person.
Diego isn't nearly stupid enough to cross House Otero, especially with my stronghold on the import and export business, but he certainly wouldn't miss me if I died. "
I move slightly to my left to put myself in her direct line of sight. When she meets my gaze, I ask, "What do you want from me?"
She motions to a portrait to her right and I gasp. If it wasn’t for the woman’s brown eyes, I could have sworn it was my likeness staring back at me.
My eyes dart to find Otero’s. “What the hell is going on here? Who is that?”
“That is my niece, Elena Lozano. She resides in the countryside.” A smirk lifts one corner of her lips as she says, “When Salvador told me he found a girl who could pass as my niece’s twin, I didn’t believe him. But seeing you before me has changed my mind.”
“What does my resemblance to your niece have to do with anything?”
“I want you to assume her identity.”
“Excuse me–”
“You've come to Orlencia in search of a husband. This would give you the opportunity to move freely amongst the aristocracy and find out where their loyalties lie."
My jaw drops. "You want me to spy on the Dons of the High Council?" I guffaw.
Otero smiles conspiratorially. "I want you to help me bring this corrupt government to its knees."
I throw my head back and laugh hysterically.
There's no earthly way the wealthiest and one of the most powerful matriarchs saved me from execution with the expectation I'd be able to aid her in overthrowing an entire government.
I must have died in the prison, and this is all a weird dream.
Suddenly, a rush of pain zips through my body.
I instinctively swat at Salvador's hand where he pinched my arm but then come to the horrific realization that I'm not dead.
I'm not dreaming. I'm actually in Dona Otero's home being propositioned to stage a coup.
I swallow hard. "You're serious?"