18
H URRICANES WERE A RARE THING IN C OVENTRY .
T HE fierce storms didn’t batter the Alban Peninsula the way they did the island of Esquivel, where, according to Bas, they could spend months preparing for the destruction a tempest left in its wake.
However, the Coronet still coincided with the rainy season, and the summer storm that rolled in a week after the hunt showed no signs of stopping.
Wind howled and cloudbursts pounded the tiled rooftops every day until Marisol received a letter from Magister Ozalla stating that, due to the hunt being cut short so the prince could convalesce, House Vida was being given a second event in the form of a ball.
A ball that would still take place at the main manor.
Marisol couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried.
Teo was in high spirits as they approached House Vida beneath their shared umbrella.
His injury had healed nicely, and he didn’t so much as flinch as they walked arm in arm up the dirt path to House Vida.
Behind them, Bas held an umbrella of his own.
They hadn’t spoken since that day in the Hinterlands, but she had ensured that it was not a hostile silence.
It was the calm after a ceasefire, a lowering of swords both fragile and cautious.
She had smiled at him in the carriage, and his shoulders had lost some of their tension as he looked out the window as usual.
Her hatred was a festering wound that she would nurse in silence until the time was right.
“I think this is my favorite one so far,” Teo continued, gesturing toward House Vida.
The picture that Gaspar had shown her didn’t do it justice.
Raindrops slid through the leaves of the tree in its center, and the flower shrubs that surrounded the terrace and floating staircase sagged in the storm.
She could see chandeliers and dancing guests through the floor-to-ceiling windows, could hear the band playing a spirited waltz.
“This isn’t a house. It’s a work of art. ”
“It’s my favorite, too,” Marisol said as they stepped onto the terrace.
Teo transferred his umbrella to a stand that seemed to have been erected for that purpose, judging by the number of umbrellas already dripping on it.
“Especially if I actually find something useful here. Are you all right to keep them occupied?”
“Just start talking about the hole in your side,” said Bas, holding the door open for them. “I’m sure they’ll find that very distracting.”
Teo made a face at him. “It’s healed. And there are better distractions!”
The inside of House Vida was no less lavish than the outside, halls decorated with blooming flowers no matter how out of season they were.
Deep violet morning glories with hot pink centers, drooping orange poppies wide open around small yellow seeds, cobalt bluebells with curtsying petal tips.
Their scents were mild enough not to compete with one another, but the ballroom looked like the center clearing of an indoor garden, bougainvillea growing between the windows in shades of magenta and scarlet.
Marisol was glad she’d gone with a simple lavender gown with black lacing, because she couldn’t hope to compete with such beauty.
A string quartet played the music that couples were waltzing to.
Two long tables were laden with food and drink that were easy to walk with.
Dark rain flowed in rivulets down the windows, trapping them in this glittering world.
Marisol let Teo lead her onto the dance floor and tried not to worry about the ticking clock.
They might not get the chance to spend this much time in House Vida again, but she had a part to play before she could disappear.
Patience may have been the most annoyingly useful of all Gaspar’s lessons.
By the time they rejoined Bas, he was standing near the food table in conversation with Noelia Galvan.
Instead of jumping apart, the two turned in unison, acting as though they just happened to be in the same place because they just happened to know the same people.
After everything, Marisol had almost forgotten about their mysterious alliance. Now it was all she could think about.
Were they pretending to be strangers for her benefit or Teo’s?
Noelia lit up at the sight of her, throwing her arms around Marisol before she could even warn of how sweaty she was. “I’ve missed you! I almost wish I hadn’t skipped the hunt, considering how exciting things became.”
“Is excitement the word we should be using?” Marisol asked, tipping her head in Teo’s direction. “He lost a lot of blood.”
“In an act of impulsive heroics, I’ve heard.” Noelia curtsied. “I’m glad to see you back on your feet, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.” Teo gestured for her to straighten, a warm smile on his face. “Lady Galvan, right? My fiancée speaks highly of you.”
Noelia tucked a dirty-blond curl behind her ear, adjusting her jeweled hood to keep it in place. “I’m lucky to have found a friend in her. As I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, true friends in high society are a rare gift.”
Bas stood back as Noelia and Teo spoke, his arms folded over his chest. His attention was on the crowd, making his usual sweep for any possible threat to the prince, so he didn’t notice Marisol studying him.
Her inability to read him was not only a liability; it had become a source of frustration.
He was a better actor than she was, looking for all the world as though he hadn’t orchestrated this meeting.
Whatever he was planning, it must have been big.
She just couldn’t figure out if her own plans would be affected.
His eyes found hers. “What?”
“You—”
The music cut off before she could finish.
On the dais, the performers carried their instruments away and were replaced by the current leaders of the Trident: Magister Ines Baylin of House Muerte, Magister Luiza Ozalla of House Vida, and Magister Agostin Novoa of House Cambio.
It was Marisol’s first time seeing the latter outside of Gaspar’s photos, and she was surprised by how ordinary he looked.
Magister Novoa, dressed in all white, was a dark-skinned bald man, staring them down with bright hazel eyes.
The silver of his eyebrows was the only indication that he was older than the two women who stood beside him.
That awful night, he had turned the guards’ shields and swords into useless rubber, the castle’s stone floors into quicksand, and the doors into solid walls that no one else could pass through.
Three men had died after sinking into the ground only for Magister Novoa to turn it back to stone, crushing their muscles and bones.
Now he stood slightly behind Ozalla and Baylin, as if deferring to their judgment.
It was a disorienting sight, the tame politeness of the three most feral witches Marisol had ever seen. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it.
“We apologize for the interruption,” Magister Ozalla said, her hands tucked into the dangling sleeves of her chartreuse dress.
“But the reason we’re all gathered here tonight cannot go unaddressed.
Despite our promise of welcome to Prince Tomás, he was injured during my House’s event.
How can we claim that witchcraft is a boon to the crown when the second prince of Domingo cannot go two months without being harmed by it?
The hunt was meant to be a celebration of life, and instead it proved nearly fatal. ”
Beside her, Teo went still. Witches threw curious gazes their way, but most of them—especially the ones in crafter green—seemed resigned.
However, there was nothing but an expression of mild interest on Teo’s face.
If she hadn’t been standing within arm’s length of him, she wouldn’t have seen him receive this announcement with the inertia of a soldier facing the reality of his own death.
All eyes returned to the platform when a young witch in an emerald cape was dragged out.
Dread bubbled in Marisol’s chest as she realized that it was the boy who had injured Teo, betrayed by his own House to absolve them from blame.
On her other side, Noelia was fidgeting with her hair. She said nothing. No one said anything.
This witch would be eaten alive by his own, and not a single person would speak for him.
“Your Highness,” Magister Baylin said as Ozalla whispered something to her crafter that made the boy stare at the floor. “Would you join us? As the injured party, we will leave it to you to mete out the punishment you think he deserves.”
Teo trembled only once, a subtle shake that bolted through his body.
He glanced at Marisol, his chin lowering in a slow nod.
Then he made his way through the crowd, leaving her alone with a concerned Bas and a restless Noelia.
The witches stepped out of his way, staring at his back, at the stage, at this awful moment blooming in the heart of this floral paradise.
“I don’t know if I can watch this,” Marisol whispered, infusing the fright she felt into her voice.
Her mind, however, was clear and calculating.
Everyone was here, riveted to the show. Teo would drag this out as long as he could while all eyes were on him.
Rain hammered the windows, drowning out the whispers that raced through the crowd. “I need air.”
“I’ll walk you,” said Bas needlessly. Noelia hadn’t turned in their direction, didn’t even seem to notice that they had spoken. Even when she and Bas began to push their way toward the exit, no one looked.
It was the distraction Marisol had asked for, if not the exact kind she’d wanted. She just had to move quickly and hope that however Teo decided to stall wouldn’t end with them fighting their way out of House Vida.