4. Chapter 4
Ines
The slow creak of the bedroom door opening jars me from sleep.
In one swift motion I grab my pistol from beneath my pillow, cock it, and aim at the early morning intruder.
Blinking rapidly to dispel the haze across my vision, I finally meet the irritated gaze of an elderly maid standing at the foot of my bed.
"State your business before your blood splatters the wall," I growl.
"Oh, hush, girl." She waves a dismissive hand and scoffs. "Senor Salvador warned me you'd be an acquired taste, but he came gravelly short of accuracy."
I'm rarely taken aback but this fork-tongued creature has me both impressed and annoyed. "Are you not frightened, anciana?" Old woman. "I have a gun pointed between your eyes and I'm an excellent shot."
"Why should I fear a gun that has no bullets?"
I glance at the five-chamber barrel and can't help but wonder what kind of game she's playing.
"That's right" – she nods her head as she moves briskly through my bedroom, throwing open the curtains to let the morning light streak through – "Senor Salvador emptied that pistol of yours while you were sleeping.
Light on his feet, he is. Had I not told you, you wouldn't have even known he was here last night. "
Angrily, I yank the chamber open to see if she's speaking the truth and to my unending irritation I find she isn't caught in a lie.
She's right. There are no bullets in either of my guns, rendering them useless.
I toss them to the side and refocus on the crotchety lady zipping from one end of my quarters to the other.
"Alright, I suppose you have no need to fear the pistols. But I am still quite capable of killing without them."
"So you say." Is all she says in an unmoved response.
I flip my blankets off my legs and stand up.
I could sit here and argue how I'm more dangerous than the old bat gives me credit, or I can get dressed and unleash my wrath on that snoop, Salvador.
A lion doesn't need to convince anyone of the threat he poses, so I'll forgo the disrespect thrown my way and quietly plot my revenge.
A wild and dramatic gasp flies from the maid's lips. "What are you wearing?"
I glance down at my person, confused. "Have you never seen a woman wear trousers before, anciana?"
Her brow furrows, deepening the wrinkles across her brown face. "You cannot wear that to dine with Dona Otero. She has taken the liberty of sending a proper outfit for your breakfast and following lesson."
"Is that so?"
"'Tis so."
"Fine. Where's this outfit you speak of? Let's get this over with."
The woman points to a gown hanging by the changing screens.
"You cannot be serious." I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not wearing a ballgown to breakfast."
"Don't be ridiculous," she snaps back. "It's the farthest thing from a ballgown. It's a day dress."
"Day dress, ballgown, I don't give a shit. I'm not wearing it." I tighten my belt around my waist in blatant defiance. "Pants will be fine."
"If you are to be seen as a lady – especially one like Elena Lozano – you must dress and act the part." The old bird won't take no for an answer. "Put the dress on."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I will inform the Dona you should be shipped back to the Brogratto where the other street rats dwell. You will leave here with nothing, and we both know that's not an option for you."
I should be annoyed but I can't help but snicker at her resolve. She's stubborn and knows how to throw her weight around. Maybe if I live to see her age, I'll be just as persnickety.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Lupe. Lupe Espinoza." She says curtly. "I have worked for the Dona since I was your age, and I won't have you mucking up her plans."
"Well, Lupe Espinoza. I would say it's been nice making your acquaintance, but we both know that would be a lie. And if there's anything I value more than ill-gotten gain, it's blunt honesty."
The old woman finally cracks the smallest of smiles and nods. "Best to tell the truth at all times."
"Agreed." I point toward the dreaded – albeit it, stunning – dress. "If I'm to wear that ridiculous thing, then I'll need some help getting into it."
"Why else would I be here?" She plants her weathered hands to her wide hips. "It's certainly not for your sparkling personality."
I bark out a laugh. "I think you and I will get along just fine."
"I wouldn't hold your breath, mocosa." Little brat. She waves me to follow her to the changing area and for once, I obey without argument. "I'm no miracle worker, but let's see if I can make you look a lady."
That was the longest hour of my entire life.
Once Lupe assisted me into the dress, she brushed and fashioned my hair. Gone is the long braid I'm accustomed to, replaced by cascading feminine locks with strategic clips pinning my wispy bangs to the side, ensuring my eyes are visible to all who look my way.
"Eyes are the key to bringing a man to his knees," Lupe tells me. "If he senses your desire for him, he will do anything to win your heart. He might even offer up his own head to the executioner's block if you asked him to. That is the power of a lady."
But the only man's head I want plopping into a wicker basket is Salvador's. He has some nerve sneaking into my room whilst I slept to touch my weapons. He's lucky I'm cocooned into this dress hindering my mobility, otherwise I might have launched a pre-breakfast assault on him.
As I follow the old maid down the grand staircase, I can't help but fidget with my outfit.
The white day dress is made of breathable cotton that sinches my waist with a red sash, but the cap sleeves are taking some getting used to.
To me, they seem senseless. Either have a full sleeve or none at all.
A slight curve over my shoulder is just annoying.
But as impractical as the cap sleeves are, they are quite beautiful with the intricate detail of flowers stitched into them.
The square neckline suits me fine but doesn't give me any cleavage.
If I'm to entrap a man and learn his secrets, complete modesty might not give me a leg up.
But then again, people of nobility take pride in conservatism.
The skirt stretches the length of my legs, and the hem barely brushes the floor, allowing me to walk without fear of tripping.
I'm pleasantly surprised despite the volume of the skirt, it's lightweight, and given a few days to adapt, I'm convinced I can learn to fight and climb walls if need be while wearing it.
Plus, the billowing skirt gives me plenty of places to hide my knives or pistols.
"This is where I leave you," Lupe announces outside the archway leading to the courtyard, ripping me from my menacing thoughts. "They're waiting for you. Remember, you're supposed to be a lady."
I wink. "I'll do my best to disappoint them."
She rolls her eyes and swats at my arm. "Don't embarrass me," is all she says before she saunters inside the casita.
Abandoned to approach the breakfast table in the courtyard by myself, I do as Lupe instructed and roll my shoulders back, run my hands down the front of my skirt to make sure there are no unwanted creases in the pleats, and tip my chin higher.
Be a lady. Be a lady. Be. A. Damn. Lady.
There are so many things to focus on and I'm certain I'm forgetting most of them, but I can't stand here forever.
So, I take a step around the archway and slip into the courtyard where the sky is visible above me.
Anchored into the stucco walls are iron trellises adorned with brilliantly colored flowers weaving up toward the terracotta roof.
The solid wooden breakfast table, large enough to seat six, is planted in the center of the square space and boasts a welcoming spread.
Ornately arranged on a white porcelain platter, there are three versions of tostadas: olive oil with salt, tomato with ham, and avocado.
My mouth salivates the second my eyes settle on the heap of magdalenas – tiny sponge cakes – topped with orange peels.
Freshly brewed coffee graces the table along with an array of ripe fruit.
I have never seen this much food in one place for one meal.
I was lucky if I had one whole meal a day, and most of the time, it's because I stole it.
"Good morning, mi querida, please join us." Dona Otero's sweet, raspy voice reminds me of where I am.
I smile, which feels foreign, and attempt to dip in a curtsey.
Thankfully I have excellent balance, but the movement of slipping one leg behind the other and lowering myself a few inches to show my new employer proper respect makes my stomach churn.
Ever since I was a child, I have always had trouble showing those in authority respect.
Perhaps, it has something to do with them being corrupt that spurs me to rebel even now, but I accepted this job offer and if I am to be successful, I will need to relinquish my stubborn and prideful reservations and act the part of a quiet and dreadfully boring lady.
"Good morning, Dona," I say so sweetly it makes my jaw ache. "I would love to join you for breakfast."
Salvador slides out of his chair and walks around the Dona seated at the head of the table to pull my seat out for me.
A devilish smirk snakes across my face. It must be eating him alive that he has to treat me like a true lady instead of the guttersnipe criminal he retrieved from the Brogratto.
I brush past him to take my place and as I sit, he slowly pushes my chair inward.
"Thank you," I flick my eyes up at him. "Such a gentleman," I tease.
The black linen mask that covers half of his face gives me little insight to what he's truly thinking and feeling, but the danger in those molten brown eyes has me inspired to see just how far I can push him before he breaks.