9. Chapter 9
Ines
Five days later, the clock sitting on my nightstand chimes ten times. Ten o'clock and sleep has once again eluded me after a lengthy day of lessons.
I could toss and turn another hour or two until I finally drift into slumber, or I can put on one of the many dresses hanging in my closet and walk around the casita for my own personal tour.
No one has alluded to the notion I am not permitted to walk around the house on my own but when I slip into the quiet hallway, I can't shake the feeling that I'm trespassing.
Ironically, I should be used to tiptoeing through fancy estates at night, but this time, I'm not searching for trinkets and jewels to lift – I'm welcome here and that makes my stomach flip.
I press my hand to the soft bodice of the black dress I picked and take a deep, steadying breath. The thought that perhaps I do belong here flirts dangerously close to the line of knowing my place.
I don't snoop through any rooms or parlors on the second floor – mostly because they are sleeping quarters and are occupied – but the downstairs is free game.
Apart from one creaky stair betraying me and alerting anyone who might still be awake of my presence, I glide to the library and take a good look at the books on display.
Each spine is splendid, decorated and hand painted, if not made of leather.
As I walk down the line, I realize Dona Otero has an array of interests; history, economics, mathematics, and architecture alongside plenty of fictional options such as fantasy, mythology and romance.
As I allow my fingertips to graze the spine of an ancient tome, a sudden crash sounds from down the hall, startling me, but not enough to stay my curiosity.
I head toward the origin of the shattering glass and press my hand against the swinging door leading to the kitchen.
I sneak a peek through the crack of the opening to find Lupe sweeping up a broken porcelain plate, muttering obscenities under her breath.
A wide grin stretches across my face as I push inside and tsk, "Cursing is not ladylike."
A frightened gasp escapes her before an angry wrinkle mars her forehead and she narrows her brown eyes, pointing an accusatory finger my way. "Neither is sneaking up on your elders, mocosa."
I bite my bottom lip to ensnare the laugh begging to slip free and offer to take the broom. "Let me help you."
Her frown deepens, if that's even possible, and she waves me away. "That wouldn't be proper for a lady to do."
"I'm not a real lady, Lupe, so it's not improper." I reach for the broom once more but this time, I'm met with a smack against my hand.
"I said, no! Are you hard of hearing?"
"Fine." I surrender, throwing my hands in the air. "Stubborn anciana."
It's only when my focus is no longer on Lupe and the broken dish that I catch a strong whiff of chocolate.
Across the u-shaped kitchen, freshly fried churros and a cup of dark chocolate sauce sit on a porcelain plate.
My mouth immediately waters from the smell and sight alone.
I've never actually tried the fried pastry before, although I've seen the elite enjoy them in the Market and Entertainment Districts.
Dusted in cinnamon and golden-brown in complexion, my stomach growls, even though I ate my fill of dinner a couple hours ago.
"Since you're here you might as well try one.
" Lupe scoops up the shattered pieces in a dustpan and tosses them in the garbage can hidden inside one of the bottom cabinets.
She places the broom back in its place in a large pantry before bounding toward me, wiping her hands on her white apron. "Go ahead, girl."
Not willing to risk her fussing at me thrice in one night, I reach for the churro. As soon as I grab one, the cinnamon adheres to my fingers.
"Now dunk it in the chocolate," Lupe instructs, swiping one of the fried pastries and showing me what to do.
I silently obey and dip the tip of the dessert into the sauce and take a bite. In a satisfying crunch, the warm pastry melts on my tongue, the cinnamon and sugar burst in my mouth. Not to be outdone, the dark chocolate sauce is rich and bitter and is the perfect complement to the churro.
I moan as I swallow the warm morsel. I knew the popular delicacy would be delicious, but I greatly underestimated how life-changing the simple dessert is. "Ugh," I take another bite. "This is so good. When everything is said and done, I might try to steal you away to work for me."
"When what is said and done?"
Suddenly the chocolate dancing on my tongue turns to ash.
I've spoken under the assumption that Dona Otero's household were privy to their mistress' doings, but it seems I've made a terrible error.
Part of me wants to pretend nothing was said, but the other part of me wonders if I'll have to silence Lupe.
I spy a fork within reach. It would be a messy death for sure, but at least nothing of the rebellion would leave this room.
Lupe holds up a hand and snaps her fingers, startling me. "Just like that, with carefree words and a loose tongue, you could have blown everything we have worked fifteen years to build. Mind who you speak with and always be on your guard."
Shame creeps into my belly as my fist relaxes and my eyes abandon the utensil. If I hadn't hesitated to hear her out, I would have plunged the fork into her neck –
I don't want to think about it. She's humbled me this evening but she's correct in doing so. I was careless. I'm only glad I learned the lesson here in the kitchen than out in Orlencia surrounded by jackals and serpents.
Lupe takes another bite of her churro when I fail to offer a response. "Damn," she nods approvingly, licking the powdered cinnamon dusting her lips. "You're right. I am a fine baker."
I appreciate her attempts at levity and smile. "The finest in Orlencia."
"Flatterer," she waves a dismissive hand, but a small, albeit mischievous smile stretches across her face. "So, I heard you and Senor Salvador put on quite the show the other day before your dress suffocated you. Shame I missed it."
I side-eye her, disposing the image of Salvador and I tangled together on the dance floor that suddenly flashes in my mind. "Dona Otero had him teach me how to dance. I'd hardly call that a show."
"Hmmm," she hums, pursing her lips in obvious disbelief. "From what I heard, it looked more like love making than dancing."
I scoff. "What a ridiculous thing to say, especially for one who wasn't present to have an opinion on the matter."
She swipes another churro, dunks it in the chocolate and tears into it. "Oh, well I suppose the entire household must be in an uproar over a lie since it's all the help can talk about."
"What horrible gossips you all are, Lupe." I narrow my eyes and take another bite, ignoring her teasing. "What are you doing up this late?" I change the subject, hoping whatever prying she's contemplating will desist. But Lupe is far too shrewd and nosey.
"I know you don't tend to heed advice, but any feelings you think you have for Senor Salvador, abandon them."
I pout and feign distress. "What's the matter, Lupe? Afraid I'll break your master's heart?"
She shakes her head and pats the smattering of cinnamon from her hands. "Women do foolish things when they're in love. Better to keep your heart and head intact, nina."
Well, that's not at all what I expected her to say. She's done what most people have never come close to doing. She's surprised me. Not once tonight, but twice.
Lupe groans and stands to her full petite height and stretches her arms above her head until a small crack sounds. A loud yawn escapes her mouth, before she says, "My sweet tooth has been satisfied and now it's time to clean up and go to sleep. I have an early start tomorrow."
As she reaches for the empty plates, I grab her hand and squeeze. "You go to bed. I'll clean up." Before she can protest, or swat at me, I say, "Please."
It's not a word I use lightly or often, if at all, but I feel compelled to do something nice for her. Don't ask me why because I don't have the faintest idea, but I won't take no for an answer this time and I think she senses it.
Her eyes search me for signs of mischief or deceit but once her curiosity is quelched she asks, "Are you sure?"
"Go on!" I wave her out of the kitchen. "I'm perfectly capable of washing a couple of dishes."
Reluctantly, she unties her apron, ultimately surrendering her will to out stubborn me. "Fine. But if I come downstairs tomorrow and anything is ascue – "
"Would you just go already?" I laugh, gently nudging her toward the door. "Maybe after a good night's rest you won't be so crotchety."
A smirk plays across her lips, and she hangs her apron on a hook beside the door. "Goodnight, mocosa."
"Goodnight, anciana."
With the housekeeper finally out of the kitchen, I snag the plate and bowl of leftover chocolate and make my way to the sink.
I scrub the porcelain clean whilst admiring the view of the garden out the window.
The moon is full tonight and shines brightly across the foliage.
A light breeze whistles through the trees and cause the flowers to sway in a hypnotizing dance.
But my peaceful trance is suddenly interrupted when a dark figure traipses across the grounds toward the front gate.
From his gait alone I know it's Salvador and my heart races. Not from desire but because I finally have an opportunity to see where he disappears to.
Knowing Lupe will skin me alive if I don't finish my task, I grab a rag from the counter and dry the two dishes before I sprint through the house, light on my feet, and slip outside.
It's that time of the year where the night is starting to cool from the intense summer heat and even though I would love to run inside and change into my trousers and don my cloak, I don't have the opportunity.
My sleuthing will be put to the ultimate test due to this dress, but thankfully, it's as black as the shadows I cling to, so I won't be easily noticed.
Obviously, I won't be allowed to leave via the main gate, so I quietly beeline for the wall surrounding the property and scale my way to the top.
Minus the extra care to not rip my dress, I'm still agile and nimble and the wall is not a problem to conquer.
Part of me wishes Salvador could have seen so he could be just as impressed as I am, but I dispatch that thought immediately knowing if I'm to catch up to him, I'll have to focus.
I drop to the other side and wait to make sure I've not been spotted before I take off through the neighboring estate, sneaking past their guards, who are far too preoccupied with talk of what debauchery they'll be partaking in on their next day off to notice me slink by to the main street.
I quicken my pace to catch sight of Salvador and after a minute of hoping to spot him, I do.
His steps are confident and once he walks across a bridge over one of the many canals connecting the city, we leave the Garden District and enter the Market District.
It's quiet, since all the businesses and vendors close at sundown, so I keep a decent distance, hoping he doesn't sense my looming presence.
Once we've gotten deeper into the Market District, Salvador reaches up to the back of his head and unties his mask.
If he was disfigured and trying to hide it, he wouldn't reveal it once the Garden District was behind him.
Which can only mean he is deliberately hiding his identity from me and the need to know what he actually looks like fuels me to continue tailing him.
I'm more determined than ever to catch a glimpse of the phantom beneath the mask; to match his golden-brown eyes and intoxicating smirk to a complete face.
Seeing more activity and increased foot traffic the closer we get to the Night District, I keep toward the buildings, maintaining a clear view of him. His path and pace never waver as he enters the bustling Night District. Evening hours are prime time for this part of the city, and it shows.
Keeping my eye on my target would have proven difficult years ago, but it's light work for me now. I manage to swipe a man's cloak from a nearby bench while he rams his tongue down his lady companion's throat and cover myself in hopes I won't draw unwanted male attention.
In the heart of the Night District, where all the bars, brothels and eateries are in full, boisterous swing, I'm beginning to wonder if Salvador is merely out for a midnight stroll since no establishment, or woman, has caught his attention.
But just as I'm about to throw my hands up in despair, since I've been following him for over thirty minutes, he suddenly takes a sharp right turn and slips into The Jaded Fox, a high-end bar from the looks of it.
I stand on the opposite side of the street and do my best to peer inside the large, picturesque windows to see who Salvador might be meeting with, but my luck has officially run out.
If I want to discover what the phantom does when he disappears from Otero's estate, I'll have no choice but to go inside.
If he catches me, there will no doubt be hell to pay, but for some reason, I'm willing to risk exposure for the sole purpose of spying on him.
Mustering up a little bit of courage to enter a building I wouldn't normally be able to enter, I cross the street, hold my head up high, and push the heavy wooden door open.