41. Chapter 41
Allyah’s villa scaled up a mountain, its onyx walls curling up the gray base like fungus on a tree.
Its ground level led to the festival’s arena, while the rest of the floors were her residence.
An alcove with floor-to-ceiling windows jutted out on the right side of her bed, with the bustling city sprawled underneath.
This is where Yareli found herself minutes before Erick was due to arrive for her mending session.
A court of battle, the Fire Court’s capital city, Andhar, was a reflection of its values.
Pragmatism in its architecture reflected their love for efficiency.
Low, squat buildings spread outward from the base of the mountain.
Painted in vibrant shades of red and gold, it was easy to distinguish the few Fire Court citizens, who dressed exclusively in black, as they roamed during the morning.
She had learned they did, in fact, prefer the moon’s light over the sun’s rays.
Their day began as the sun set, and apart from patrols, most citizens had already gone to bed.
Yareli fiddled with her sleeve. She had spent the previous day slumbering away the magic drain, waking only to eat and stretch before she fell back asleep.
However, what had possessed her this morning—in heart and mind—was a hazy memory of last night, of a certain pair of hazel eyes and the feeling of his hand in hers.
She swallowed and landed on the word “kind.” It had been a kindness from a friend.
She didn’t dare think of it as anything else. She couldn’t. Instead, she distracted herself with a phrase that had been on her tongue since she woke up.
“Lo que será, será.”
She had a strong feeling she had learned it from her mom, hearing her voice when she said it, but she didn’t know why it was stuck in her head.
She couldn’t accept what was to be. No, she would wrangle the future into the mold she wanted.
No matter the cost. A lone bird soared through the sky; its dark body cutting the lightening sky with every beat of its wings.
“Good morning, mi sol!” Erick strode into the room, wearing what looked like scrubs underneath a floor-length fur coat.
She laughed. “What the hell are you wearing?”
He rolled his eyes, motioning for her to come to her bed. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“It’s the fur coat.”
“I’m tired of being cold! I miss the beach. I miss summer. I even miss swimming in the chlorinated-to-hell pools of our college.”
One of those was different from the others, but she bit anyway. “You sound like a Water Court citizen through and through.”
“What can I say? I was born to lounge on white sands, not be trapped in spiraling stone towers in the clouds. Now, come on, get in bed. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Yareli slid under her bedsheets, resting her head on the plush pillow. She took a deep breath, relaxed her grip on her sheets, and met Erick’s eyes.
“I’m trusting you.”
For once, he didn’t respond flippantly. “We’ll get your memories back.”
She closed her eyes.
The soft, warm notes of a guitar played in the air, reaching Yareli’s ears in a satisfying lilt.
She was preparing cebollitas for the carne asada, her small hands deftly ripping the aluminum foil from its box and individually wrapping the Mexican green onions.
Yelling drew her attention to the window where her younger brother, Fernando, ran around their backyard, cheering after scoring a goal. She huffed.
“How come Fernando doesn’t have to help?” she asked her mom.
“He doesn’t need to know how to prepare the food.”
“That’s not fair!”
Her mom looked up from her bowl, her lips pinched in a frown. This was the umpteenth time Yareli had complained. “Fine, you can go play after you finish.”
Satisfied, Yareli renewed her efforts. The occasional bird call reminded her it was the first warm day of Spring, which always meant they would have carne asada—one of her favorite meals.
Her brother’s voice rang out. “Yareli!”
She peeked outside again, finding him standing with the soccer ball on his hip.
He grinned, his floppy, curly hair falling over his eyes—he desperately needed a haircut, like always.
She didn’t understand his hatred of haircuts, but she figured it was a seven-year-old thing, because their cousin also went months without cutting his hair.
She yelled, “What?”
“Come play!”
“Okay!”
She placed the cebollitas in a bowl, hurriedly rinsed her hands, and was about to run outside when her mom stopped her.
“Take them to your dad,” she snapped.
But her joyous mood couldn’t be stolen; she was finally free to play. She turned back and grabbed the bowl, muttering that she would never cook for her husband. Maybe she wouldn't ever get married, not if it meant doing all the cooking!
She rushed outside, stopping on their small patio to place the bowl on the plastic table they had set up. Her dad stopped her, too.
“Oye, are the short ribs ready?”
“Not yet.”
Yareli ran off before he could ask her another question. She was eleven, turning twelve soon, and even though her brother was annoying, he was good at soccer, which made playing with him fun. He handed the ball over to her, and she rubbed his head, shaking up his curls.
“Hey!”
She stuck her tongue out at him, placing the ball on the ground and kicking it toward the goal.
She missed, and Fernando cackled. At her look, he ran to pick up the ball, but she could still hear him giggling.
He kicked the ball at her, and she passed it right back.
They went back and forth like this for a little bit until her dad called her.
“Ven aquí.”
She groaned. “Can’t Fernando do it?”
“Ven!”
She walked toward him, dragging her feet so it took her longer than it should have. He handed her the tongs, instructing her to watch the cooking meat and to flip it every once in a while.
“Pass me the ball, Nando,” he said.
Fernando kicked it over immediately, his excitement clear in his giddy smile. Her annoyance faded, replaced by curiosity. It was rare for their dad to take an interest in what they were doing; it was rarer for him to play with them.
“Watch carefully.”
He flicked the ball up, juggling it on his feet and thighs for a couple of taps. He let it drop and kicked it into their makeshift goal. Yareli joined Fernando in applause—the meat all but forgotten—yelling and laughing at how cool that had been.
“Dad, where did you learn to do that?” Fernando asked.
“I used to be the best soccer player in my rancho, mijo,” he answered proudly, patting his chest in emphasis.
“No way!” Yareli said. “You played soccer?”
“When I was a kid, before I left for el norte.” His eyes changed, losing the mirth from showing off. They became cloudy and misty, as though he was remembering something from long ago.
He made his way back to her, his short black hair just long enough to start showing its curls.
He always kept it short, saying he didn’t like dealing with it, but Yareli loved it when he went too long without a haircut, and she could see Fernando’s likeness in him.
She had her mom’s straight hair, much to her chagrin, because it refused to hold a curl.
“A la madre, la carne!” he cursed, ripping the tongs from her hands.
The smell of burnt meat filled her nostrils; black smoke rose from the grill, and her dad hurried to salvage the meat. Dread dripped down Yareli’s throat, flipping her stomach. She took a step back.
“Sorry,” she said weakly.
Her dad didn’t reply. Once he was done fixing her mistake, he turned, looming over her like a statue.
Her surroundings lost focus, becoming a blurry mess of colors until only a muddy orange remained.
She repeated her apology, but he didn’t respond.
The tongs in his hands grew in length, stretching until they had curled around his body, and a snake’s head hissed at her from his shoulder.
Her dad remained oblivious to the snake. His voice boomed. “Why can’t you listen?”
She apologized again, and her eyes burned. He opened his mouth again, but her mom’s voice came out instead.
“You’re always going out to that damn casino!”
His mouth became a void, widening until she feared she’d fall into its depths.
“This is my house. I’ll do whatever I want!”
Fernando’s cries echoed around them, and she looked for him only to realize it was coming from the void. The snake coiled around her dad’s neck, and he wheezed, his face purple. But the voices didn’t stop. Garbled, they were twisted like the snake around him.
She screamed and dropped to the ground, holding her hands over her ears and rocking herself. Her dad grabbed her hair and forced her head back. She cried out.
His contorted face stared down at her, the yawning void staring right back at her. A glint shone, growing in size until a snake’s head emerged from the void. It widened its maw, its tongue flicking toward her. She stopped breathing. Right as its jaws reached her, she woke up.
Erick was slumped over on a chair next to her bed, his head tilted back. Her chest rose and fell in quick bursts, and she pushed herself up, arms trembling.
“Careful.” Augrys’s voice came from her left, surprising her.
Yareli accepted his help to settle against her headboard and groaned. She had been dreaming, but it was as if she had gotten zero rest.
“How long have you been here?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Not long. I came to check on you guys, and I found both of you passed out.”
Sunlight no longer streamed in through her windows. “What time is it?”
“It’s about five o’clock. How are you feeling?”
“Like a truck ran me over.”
She rubbed her eyes, and she remembered her dream.
Realization dawned on her; she had remembered her family.
She thought about her mom, dad, and brother, and it all came to her with some clarity.
She was the eldest, currently attending college.
She was in her junior year, and she lived in a shared apartment with two others.
With the return of her memories came something so dreadful, so anxiety-inducing, that her voice shook when she asked.
“Augrys,” she started. “How fucked am I?”
“What?”
Her chest tightened. “My rent. How fucked is it?”
Before he answered, she did the calculations. She had been gone a couple of months, and her bank account had only enough for the next month’s rent. She was so fucked.
She started mumbling to herself, her panic rising. “Oh my god, I need to get home. My stuff. My brother’s probably worried sick. He must have received the eviction notice. My dad’s going to kill me, but only after my mom does.”
“Yareli, breathe.” Augrys’s face came into focus again. “I took care of your rent.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Your room is waiting for you when you return.”
“What about my family? What do they know?”
“They’re doing well. They think you’re doing a study abroad program in Europe for literature.”
Yareli searched his eyes, remembering how she had loved looking into them, and she let her shoulders drop. She licked her dry lips, letting the truth fall from them. “I remember now.”
He didn’t say anything, choosing to get her water from her pitcher next to her bed. His back was turned to her when he finally responded.
“That’s a relief.”
She blinked. She told him she remembered, but he didn’t react.
Was this his answer to her question during their visit to the Curse Eater?
Or had he not known that she had liked him?
She thanked him for the water, drinking it in a few gulps.
She peered at him; he looked impassive as always.
Hadn’t they agreed to talk about it when she remembered?
She knew she hadn’t imagined that moment on the Curse Eater’s mountain; she knew what she had seen in his eyes then—desire, longing, and maybe something else.
If he didn't want to acknowledge it, then there was no reason to continue going down this path; she had made her choice earlier.
She asked, “How’s Erick?”
“His magic core is exhausted, but he should recover with rest. I’ll take him to his room.”
He stood, shaking Erick’s shoulder until he woke up.
“Reli?” Erick said, his face scrunching in concern.
She jumped to reassure him, saying, “I’m okay. You should rest.”
“I need to check your vitals.”
Augrys helped him to his feet. “I already did. She’s okay. Let’s get you to bed.”
“You’re the best,” he mumbled, leaning onto Augrys for support. “Did you know that?”
Augrys patted his head, and Yareli saw a whisper of August in the gesture. Her heart clenched. She had made her choice, but it was becoming increasingly clear to her that it would be difficult to let go.
“I’ll have dinner dropped off after I get Erick in bed,” he told her.
“Thanks,” she replied.
She looked away from him, staring at the darkness outside her window.
It reminded her of the void in her dream.
Although she had woken up, it was as if she hadn’t broken free.
She was still drifting in that darkness, running from her terrors.
She then understood her apprehension about her memories of her family. They weren’t all rainbows and sunshine.
“Lo que será, será,” she said.
A star twinkled in the distance, and she stayed frozen in place until her dinner arrived. When she returned home, there would be no more running. No family was perfect; it was time to visit them.