21
E VERYTHING WAS ALWAYS RESPLENDENT AT MIDSUMMER , the longest day of the year.
Once, it was when Kindred would let the kids stay out later with what little money the matrons had saved for them to use at market.
During those long, balmy hours, they could forget, for a time, that they were the castoffs of society.
It was also the only time when Marisol would behave, because she hated to be banned from attending the festival.
Being alone with her thoughts at midsummer only reminded her of how alone she’d been since the witches had taken over.
With a cheese empanada in her hand and street musicians in her ears, she could ignore the pit that grew in her stomach with each passing year.
Some things never changed.
“This is the best part of the summer because, no matter which House is hosting, it’s not just about magic,” Noelia was saying as they wound past a man selling seafood croquettes. “Most of the vendors are welks, so you get a wider variety of things to see.”
Bas and Teo walked somewhere behind them, distracted by someone who was offering gilded rings that could keep the wearer from falling sick.
Glittering trash, essentially, but Marisol wasn’t going to ruin their fun.
While she was in Alta Lira, Teo had sent a letter to his father about their success at House Vida, but he’d received no response.
This, he’d claimed, was normal. The only person who hated talking to him more than his father was his brother, and Teo didn’t bother writing to Itzal.
Marisol had considered asking him about his relationship with his family, and specifically about her suspicion that they were the ones who wanted him dead, but she’d decided against it.
Planting the seeds in his mind might help them grow into a cover for her own murderous schemes, but it might also upset him.
She needed him sharp if they were going to steal the final plant.
That was the only reason she cared.
Obviously.
“You seem to really like welks,” Marisol said, focusing back on her companion.
A group of morphers in white walked past, carrying large cups of unknown liquid.
Their coven marks, a diagonal arrow that pointed in both directions, flashed seconds before their drinks did; whatever was in there now was not what they had originally bought.
“That seems like an unusual attitude for a witch to have.”
Noelia rolled her eyes. “Older witches, maybe. They remember when their powers were chained by people who had none. King Alvaro and Queen Ximena wouldn’t allow them to wield their magic outside of their command, and they were conscripted from the moment they showed any sign of it.
Then they were exiled and welcomed into yet another country that wanted to use them—”
“Use them?” Marisol’s eyebrows lifted. “The Seawards let you live here in peace, I thought?”
“That’s what they said . But the Royal Council made it clear that, as a condition of our residence, we had to use our magic for the benefit of welks. We weren’t allowed to work, or we’d be accused of taking their jobs. Our powers were our job.”
Marisol frowned. This was a version of Coventrian history she’d never heard, and she doubted it even though Noelia had no reason to lie to her.
Certainly, the Trident would have made it sound as if their coup against the royal family had been for the benefit of all witches.
They would need an explanation for why witches lived separately—and above—the Coventrian welks. That didn’t make it true .
Then she remembered Bas’s low opinion of the Seawards, and her stomach twisted from the reminder.
But it was one thing to accept that they had been poor hosts to the witches, and another to accept that they had been poor rulers of their own people.
With Noelia and Bas still keeping their relationship a secret from her, who was to say that they weren’t working together to erode her opinion of her family?
But why?
“Anyway”—Noelia waved a hand as though dismissing the bad memories—“they’re punishing all welks for the actions of a few.
Removing them from the Council? Forcing them to live in cramped quarters?
Banning them from the Coronet? I want witches to have lands they can feel safe in, but not at the expense of the people who were actually born here.
Besides.” She paused at a vendor selling dangling earrings.
Her fingers traced the line of one that ended in a blue jewel.
“Welks are fascinating. Witches are locked into three distinct specialties, but welks can be anything, do anything. We could be so much greater if we learned from and worked with them.”
Marisol kept her eyes on the earrings because she was afraid of what her face might be doing.
It wasn’t the explanation she’d expected, and the idea that there might be more witches who thought the same way bothered her.
Honestly, she would be doing Noelia a favor.
If she liked welks so much, she would enjoy becoming one.
Marisol’s guilt ebbed, but it didn’t entirely fade away. The longer she was in Coventry, the harder it was for her to hold on to the anger that had driven her back here. The longer she spent with this witch, the harder it was for her to believe her actions would be righteous.
A hand touched her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts.
Teo stood over her, smiling down at the booth.
He’d recovered so well from his injury that she could almost forget it had ever happened, and the sun had given him a golden tan that made him even more attractive.
“If you see something you like, my love, I’ll happily buy it for you. ”
“I have my own money,” Marisol said, but there was a flirty curve to her mouth that softened the words. “Have you bought anything for yourself?”
He lifted a woven wicker bag that was heavy with purchases: a new sword in a leather sheath, a container of golden pears that were now in season, and what looked like handmade soaps in several colors. She stared at him, and he grinned back.
“Some of these are for Bas,” he assured her.
Behind him, Bas shook his head.
Marisol couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if you want to add earrings to that, I won’t stop you.
” She pointed at a set of gold earrings, shaped to look like dolphins with small pearls for eyes.
Her lost dolphin pendant still haunted her, but that didn’t mean she would avoid them forever. “That one, please.”
She stepped back so he could haggle with the vendor, her smile still in place.
The streets were still wet from the recent storms, but the sun was beating down on them through the thin cover of clouds.
Joy dawned within her, warming her faster than the sunlight ever could.
For once, Marisol let herself feel it. Even though this was a borrowed life, even though this would come to a fatal end, right now she had friends, family, a home.
She also had Bas watching her. Again.
It had become so commonplace that it no longer surprised her, but it still made her wonder what he was looking at. Or looking for.
Marisol raised her eyebrows. “Is everything all right?”
“You seem happy today,” Bas said simply. “I’m glad.”
Unsettled by how he always seemed to see right through her, Marisol did nothing but nod.
It was an answer to her question, but she wished he had kept that to himself.
She didn’t want to think about him taking pleasure in her happiness.
She didn’t want to remember that night on the beach, how he had read her body language like a book and been relieved to see her relax.
She was sick of these conflicting emotions stalking her wherever she went.
“That one, too,” she told Teo, pointing at a silver charm bracelet. The action allowed her to turn her back on Bas and his unwanted earnestness, to focus instead on Teo’s crooked smile and playful eyes. “Thank you, my love.”
That night, Soltura Harbor was crowded with witches for the Sky Lantern Showcase, which marked the end of midsummer.
Marisol was restless as they retrieved their lanterns and made their way toward the coast. Regardless of which House hosted the festival, boats were taken out onto the water each year and the lanterns released into the air.
Most times, there had been so many, and they had traveled so far, that she’d been able to see the bobbing lights if she snuck onto the Kindred rooftop.
The wind was cool, and even the scent of brine couldn’t stop her from tumbling into her memories of sitting there with her knees drawn to her chest, her eyes on the glowing horizon. Yoselin would have found the lanterns so beautiful.
The rowboats were large enough for only two people.
Teo helped her into one, while Bas took another in the company of a morpher witch.
Noelia had bid them goodbye to arrive at the event with the rest of the House Muerte reapers, and Marisol had yet to see her among the thick crowd.
She settled on one of the two bench seats, gripping her lantern tight enough to wrinkle it as Teo pushed them off from the shore and took his place across from her.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at something over her shoulder.
Marisol glanced behind her and then shrugged. “It’s uninhabited. The former royal family of Coventry had the island created in case they needed to build more homes for incoming residents, but the project was obviously abandoned after their death.”
“Does it have a name?”
Marisol glanced back at it again. The shape of the island was usually visible from the coast of Rojanea, but this was the first event to bring them here since their arrival. Marisol was used to the gray-white curve of its distant beach, but it had been years since she’d thought of it.
“Santesa.” The word felt ancient on her tongue, a memory covered in cobwebs. “That was the plan, anyway.”