29
N OELIA HAD BEEN RIGHT ABOUT THE CLOSING BALL.
It was a generic night of dancing and food, only noteworthy for taking place outside rather than at a specific House and for lacking any guests who wore anything but House colors.
The new witches were taken away to receive their coven marks, and they returned to the ball when it was halfway over.
Marisol politely applauded with the rest of the crowd, but it didn’t take her long to wish that she’d skipped the event entirely.
There was nothing interesting about a new generation of witches coming into their powers.
The only interesting thing was the looks that Bas kept throwing her across the room, which made her cheeks heat and her eyes roam for anything and anyone else to look at.
It felt as if there was a conversation that they had to have, but they had said all that needed to be said in the washroom.
The kiss had been a heated mistake. Their history was too tangled and painful for anything new to grow.
Bas’s priority was Teo, and Marisol’s priority was gutting them both. Nothing had changed.
If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would feel true.
Two days after the closing ball, an invitation arrived in the mail. The cream-colored card had the prince’s seal on it, with midnight calligraphy that listed a date and time above the following:
All witches are invited to join Prince Tomás Castellan at Cloverdale Hall for a second, unified closing ceremony. This year’s Coronet has been illuminating, and the prince wishes to celebrate a new and more promising era with his honored guests before his return to Estrellad.
Refreshments will be provided.
RSVP.
Marisol read the card several times, growing increasingly confused.
Teo hadn’t told her about hosting a party.
In fact, he had seemed withdrawn at the closing ball, which she had taken for frustration that they still didn’t have the final plant in hand.
Was he offering a massive distraction to empty House Muerte for her?
Or was she expected to attend this, too?
She returned her RSVP with a request to meet, but she received no response.
Marisol arrived at Cloverdale an hour before the start of the ceremony.
The servants led her to the sitting room, and the prince entered ten minutes later.
He took a chair on the other side of the coffee table, dressed in nothing but a loose tunic and breeches, as if she’d caught him in the middle of getting ready.
“You look lovely, as always,” he said, giving her a once-over.
Marisol, with her hair styled into an Afro puff bubble ponytail and dressed in a plum-colored gown that matched her lipstick, tried not to preen. “Thank you. Why didn’t you answer my letter?”
“I’ve been busy setting everything up. Bas is still at the market, shopping for last-minute items.”
That was going to be her next question, and she hated how much she relaxed to hear that Bas hadn’t just been avoiding her.
Marisol set the card on the coffee table and picked up one of the cups the servants had placed there. “You didn’t tell me you were going to host your own event. That was a strange thing to find out from an invitation.”
“I didn’t realize that was something I had to run by you,” Teo said with genuine bewilderment. “Did you want to help with the planning?”
Marisol’s lips parted, but she had no argument to make to that.
They’d been partners, but only for the length of the Coronet.
The Coronet was over. The plan would have been over, if not for the fact that she had yet to get back inside House Muerte.
He didn’t need to run his future actions by her, especially with regard to the witches. She’d just wanted him to.
She’d thought they were—Well. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
She sipped her tea. “I was just wondering how this was supposed to help us get the final plant from House Muerte. You didn’t even ask to host it there.”
“That wasn’t on my mind,” Teo said. “My father insisted I end my trip on this note, and then I had a limited amount of time to get everything together…”
Marisol thought of Teo sneaking into the garden, snatching the orange blossoms from the trees, and crushing them in his hands.
That boy seemed worlds away from the one who sat before her, claiming that he hadn’t considered the plan at all in setting up this event.
Something was going on, but Marisol couldn’t figure out what.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I was being silly. You should get ready before the guests start arriving.”
“I’ve never seen anyone arrive to a royal party on time.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“You’re early, so technically it doesn’t count.” But Teo was smiling as he got to his feet. “I’ll be back once I’m dressed, and we can spend some time together. I’ve missed you.”
Marisol wasn’t surprised that she’d missed him, too, but her eyes were still drawn to the window and the lands beyond.
She couldn’t very well see to Estrellad from here, but she could let her mind wander.
Gaspar would be furious if she returned without the plant he needed, and Rodrigo’s death would’ve been in vain if she didn’t take down the witches in his stead.
Perhaps she would follow Teo’s lead and ask Noelia if they could have a going-away party at House Muerte tomorrow.
With her key and her knowledge of exactly where the orange trees were, she could be in and out in under five minutes.
And then she could enjoy tonight’s party without stress.
By the time Teo returned, Marisol had emptied her cup and eaten half his tea cakes.
He rescued one for himself, eyes twinkling, and drew her into conversation about her week.
The prince was easy to talk to and he knew it.
Every time she thought they might run out of conversation, he smoothly led them on a new tangent, until she was laughing so hard that she thought the seams of her dress might give out.
Bas arrived with an armful of bags, rolled his eyes fondly at their hysterics, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Eventually, he returned to sit on the arm of Marisol’s chair—forcing her to ignore her newfound awareness of him before Teo noticed anything amiss.
Their conversation was only ended by the arrival of the first guests, announced by the servants to be Magisters Baylin and Ozalla.
It was an hour after the party was due to start. Teo smirked at her as if to say, I told you so.
Witches trickled in steadily, filling the ballroom.
Teo had hired his own musicians, and they played Domingan classics as couples took their turns around the dance floor.
Marisol had sampled a little of all the food on display, which left her too full to eat any more once the festivities began.
But the party didn’t come alive to Marisol until Noelia arrived, resplendent in teal and gold, and threw her arms around her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said once she’d let go. “I couldn’t decide what to wear, and the note I sent to Wildridge was returned unanswered.” Her eyebrows rose suggestively. “I imagine you’ve been here?”
“You’re incorrigible.” Marisol laughed. “And you look wonderful.”
Arm in arm, they found two chairs on the edge of the dance floor so they could watch everyone.
The musicians played from a stage between the windows, and roped curtains revealed the moon surrounded by several stars.
Not even the sounds of the ball and the chatter of Noelia beside her were enough to save Marisol from her sudden melancholia.
She wasn’t sure if she was ready to leave Coventry, plant or no plant. She didn’t want to build a new life in a new place. She wanted to prune her roots here so that they could grow back stronger than before.
It was a sobering realization.
“What’s that face for?” Noelia asked, interrupting her own story about a witch who’d gotten seasick at the regatta.
“I—”
The music faded to a stop as Teo ascended the dais. He wore a black doublet and sage hose, not unlike the outfit he’d worn the first time she saw him in person. However, his curls were decorated by a simple diadem, marking the first time that Marisol had seen him wear a crown.
He looked like what she had almost forgotten he was: a Castellan royal.
“Thank you all for coming to this gala and helping me to say goodbye to a country that I’ve truly come to love,” Teo said, his voice raised so it could carry over the crowd.
“I’ve met with the Magisters, and they have assured me that this is the entirety of the witch population of Coventry.
These numbers are both larger and smaller than I thought, but it’s made our decision easier.
“After reading my letters, King Alvaro has decided that he will work toward an end to the exile that has kept witchcraft out of Domingo for decades.”
The room filled with shocked murmuring, but no one was more shocked than Marisol. She was on her feet before she’d made the conscious decision to move, and, from the corner of her eye, she saw Noelia stand as well.
Teo’s eyes found her in the crowd, and all she saw was a stranger.
If she expected guilt or shame, she didn’t find it in his placid expression.
She would have thought it was a morpher impersonating him if he hadn’t been looking right at her, as if he wanted to note her reaction before anyone else’s.
As if she would give him the satisfaction.
She stared him down until his gaze moved on, leaving her fuming.
Teo waited for the whispers around him to die down before continuing.
“However, there is a condition to the impending agreement. I’ve taken the time to study your coven marks, sending the ink samples you generously provided back to Palacio Real.
We’ve used them to create a coven mark of our own.
No longer will you be divided into separate Houses.
Instead, there will be a single mark, branding you as a member of the Crown Coven and allowing King Alvaro to share in the power that has made you so strong. ”
Marisol could feel her legs shaking. She stumbled toward the wall, using it to keep herself standing.
The ink samples you generously provided.
Teo had never once mentioned that he’d simply been given the samples that he had been helping her to steal. When had that happened? Why hadn’t he told her this? Any of this?
They want the witches’ magic back under their control , Marisol realized, her throat tightening. And that’s something that must not happen.
How many lies had he told her? Why had she ever believed him?
“The Magisters have already agreed to these terms and will thus take the mark first,” said Teo.
His smile was indulgent, and his eyes were blank.
She saw nothing of the thoughtful boy she’d come to know in those depthless voids.
She couldn’t even tell which version of him had been the performance. “Then the rest of you can follow.”
No one asked what would happen if they didn’t take the mark. It was clear that the decision had been made for them, that this was all or nothing. It was likely that no one wanted to be the witch to ruin their chance to expand into Domingo.
Marisol wanted to laugh hysterically—or maybe curl into a ball and cry.
Her mind was still trying to make connections even as it frayed from the depth of Teo’s betrayal.
The secrets he’d been keeping. The way he’d manipulated her, acting as if she were leading them and he would help her on her path, all while he had an agenda of his own.
It was the same thing that she had done to him, and yet she had never seen it coming.
Are you that worried you won’t be able to do it?
The shame she’d felt that day she’d spoken to Gaspar rose up so fast that it nearly choked her.
She had been fooled by charming words and beautiful eyes.
She had become another person who thought that Teo truly cared for them while he used them for a safe place to sleep.
Watching him smile and laugh at the witches as he oversaw their coven marks one by one made her want to vomit.
If she couldn’t tell which parts of him had been lies, she had to assume that it had all been a game. One that she was losing, because she hadn’t even known to play.
It would be easy to fall apart. That might even be what the Castellans wanted.
But Marisol had spent too much time forging herself into something that caused pain instead of simply being the victim of it.
Piece by piece, she built a wall between the crush of emotions and the clarity of her mind, until she could almost breathe again.
She had never needed Teo for her plan to work.
He was here to die, and he had bluffed his way out of her clutches. That was fine. She could still win.
After all, every witch in Coventry was here in this room—which meant that House Muerte was virtually empty.
No one was looking at her as they lined up to receive the crown mark.
Even Noelia had left her side and was waiting in line for her turn to make her Magister proud.
She wanted to look for Bas, but she didn’t know how much more her heart could handle and still beat on. He had to have known. This had to have been one of those secrets that “weren’t his to tell.” It was easier to villainize him again than to look for the truth.
No more distractions.
No more waiting.
Marisol looked at Teo one more time, mourning the boy she’d thought he was and the relationship she’d thought they had. Then, she went to end this once and for all.