9 #2
But having magic or brown eyes didn’t involve the right to control the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.
Both the welks and the witches on the Royal Council had been elected, and no one was put in charge just because of their eye color.
Marisol considered making this point, but Yoselin was squeezing her doll so tightly, the head was about to pop off.
She had never been afraid of her adoptive sister, but she’d also never seen her so furious.
She bit her lip. Nodded. “You’re so smart.”
For a moment, Yoselin went still, her eyes narrowed as she tried to work out whether Marisol was making fun of her. After a while, she nodded and loosened her hold on the doll.
“Thank you,” Yoselin said warmly. “Want to play something else?”
Teo was not Yoselin, but he had been born into power. Yoselin had been a child who might have grown out of accepting whatever she’d been told. At nineteen, Teo was likely twice as stubborn, with very few skills unrelated to ruling.
“So, what does that mean for us?” Marisol asked instead. “If the commoners of Domingo are watching Coventry so closely, does that mean they’d want their witches back, magic and all?”
“No, not at all. Their successful revolution might be inspiring, but witches will never be welcome back in Domingo. If this works, if we manage to eradicate magic entirely, it will put my family back in favor. Witches killed the queen, my mother , and they are thriving in all the ways we stumble. That cannot continue.”
Hatred soured his voice. She’d spent more than enough time in Domingo to become familiar with the many reasons they hated magic, but Teo’s animosity was personal.
He would have been around five when Queen Ximena died, and those hazy memories would only fuel his loathing.
The idea of a life that someone could’ve had was sometimes worse than the life they did have.
His hatred was the kind of ugly, bitter thing that Marisol carried in her heart, a barbed fury that called to the darkness within her. No wonder the Castellans had been funding Gaspar’s research.
She turned her head before a sense of kinship could take root. Whatever wounds the prince carried couldn’t save him from her.
Marisol drained her juice and refilled her goblet with the wine. It looked as if she would need it. “I still don’t understand. You’re not even the heir to the throne. How will killing you possibly help anyone?”
The shadows in his eyes cleared, replaced with weary reflection.
“I’ve thought about this extensively, and my guess is as good as yours.
Either my death will serve as a warning and a threat to my father and brother without actually causing a succession crisis, or I’m some sort of trial run to test the Palacio’s defenses and the Castellans’ accessibility.
Bas has been teaching me swordplay, and I’ve become immune to most poisons in the last year.
But I’ve mostly discovered the best way to foil my attackers is to never be where they expect me to be. ”
Marisol’s lips twitched. “Such as someone else’s bed?”
“Impropriety can save a life.” Teo winked sinfully, his curls falling over his chestnut eyes. “And who says serving one’s country can’t be fun for all involved?”
Damn, he was charming. That would be a problem.
“So, it will fall to Marisol and Sebastjan to keep you alive until the problem of the witches is dealt with?” Gaspar said, taking the wine from its spot by her elbow and placing it out of reach. “That’s a complication this already-complex plan didn’t need.”
“I know,” said Teo. “But I wanted you to know what you were getting into before we leave.”
“I can handle it if Bas can. However…” Marisol took her time examining the breadth of Bas’s shoulders, the corded muscle of his arms, the stubborn jut of his jaw, and then said, “Teo, you’ll be dead by dawn.”
The prince laughed, but that was nowhere near as satisfying as the flicker of emotion in Bas’s dark eyes, there and gone before she could parse it. A crack in the stoic armor of the boy she no longer knew.
“The hope,” said Teo, “is that being in another country cuts down on assassination attempts. I’ll be renting a manor called Cloverdale Hall for the summer, and the idea to act as if we’re reconsidering their exile was a brilliant one.
I’ve been invited to everything from public events to private tours this year.
If there’s any useful information to be found, I’ll find it. ”
“With respect, Your Highness,” said Gaspar, “you won’t know what to look for without Marisol.
Besides, there will be too many eyes on you, making sure that you’re enjoying yourself.
It would be better if you act as a distraction while Bas and Marisol search the Houses for the plants.
Draw the witches to you, make them compete for your favor, and they won’t think to look for a thief and her lookout. ”
Teo and Bas had a silent conversation, expressed through narrowed eyes and twitching eyebrows. Marisol pretended not to notice.
“Things will go more smoothly if we can be together as much as possible, though,” Marisol added.
“Luckily, I have an idea for that, too: We’re courting.
If you attend the Coronet with a random noblewoman at your side, they’ll think something is going on anyway.
Why not let them—especially if it allows us to attend these tours together? ”
“Oh,” Teo drawled, shifting in his seat so that his body language was more playful. “Is that why?”
“I need to use the washroom,” said Bas. He stood before anyone could stop him, nodding at the servant who materialized at his side. “Thank you.”
Marisol fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was obvious, as Bas followed her servant out of the room, that he was leaving to spy. He would find nothing suspicious among her staff or her belongings. She’d had a year of practice at discretion, after all.
“I take it you have no objection to our courtship, then,” Marisol said as she returned to eating.
The prince was still draped on his chair like a courtesan, but it felt more teasing than predatory. She made a face at him. He winked in return. “I have no objection whatsoever. But we should set boundaries. I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”
“Witches make me uncomfortable. Anything you could do would be annoying at best.”
“I am very good at being annoying, but I’m afraid this is nonnegotiable.
” Teo picked up his fork, but instead of eating he used it to gesture between them.
“We may be using each other for a common purpose, but I refuse to risk you feeling unsafe around me. If there’s anything you don’t want me to do, or say, or touch, I’ll respect your wishes. ”
Marisol forced her expression to remain blank, even though surprise cut through her. She was thinking of nothing but the plan, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to succeed. This was what she’d been trained for. This was who Marisol Vinyet was.
But Teo was not talking about her as a means to an end. He was talking about her as a girl. A person.
Marisol hated it. His kindness.
“All right,” she said evenly. “Boundaries. But that goes for you as well. I don’t want you to feel unsafe around me, either.”
Teo’s answering smile was warm. He had no idea that he was living through some of his final days. He really thought they could be friends.
Fool.
“I knew you two would get along,” said Gaspar. He was smiling, too, but there was something more mysterious about it. It was heavy with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say in front of the prince. “But it seems like this partnership will work even better than I thought.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves until we’ve gotten at least one plant in hand,” Marisol replied.
“And gotten back alive,” Teo added. He raised his glass. “Here’s to survival.”
Fool.
Marisol clinked hers against his. “Yes, to survival.”