32
M ARISOL AWOKE WITH A GASP . H ER CHEEK STUNG, which was a new enough sensation that her failing pain receptors had registered the complaint.
She must have been dead already, because she was still in the study of Ruiz’s house in Alta Lira, but it was Noelia Galvan who was hovering over her with a raised hand and a determined scowl.
“What did he do to you?” she demanded. “Don’t make me slap you again.”
Marisol’s tongue felt heavy. Instead of the almost pleasant numbness of before, her body now felt as if it were boiling. Heat scorched through her blood until being alive felt like torture. As inexplicable as Noelia’s presence was, Marisol had to be alive. Death couldn’t possibly hurt like this.
“Poison,” she said, or thought she said. From Noelia’s confused expression, she assumed the word had been garbled, but Noelia’s face cleared when she figured it out. She disappeared, and Marisol closed her eyes to return to the slow pain of dying.
The next time she awoke, she was choking.
“Sorry,” Noelia said, one hand on the back of Marisol’s neck while the other covered her nose. “You need to swallow this.”
Marisol coughed, slicking her chin with the foul-tasting liquid, and then she forced her aching throat to drink normally.
It burned on the way down, but soon a chill radiated outward, easing the forest fires inside her body.
The antidote, she realized as her mind slowly cleared.
Gaspar had known that no one in this house would help her and that she was too close to death to help herself.
He hadn’t even bothered to cover his tracks.
She’d meant that little to him, in the end.
Once she had the strength, Marisol sat up. “How are you here?”
Noelia was already on her feet, raiding Gaspar’s desk.
Potion after potion appeared on the table.
“The boys helped me out of the pit so I could follow you,” she said briskly.
“I didn’t know what I was going to do at first. Sneak in and try and talk to you again, maybe.
But I knew that something was wrong when I saw Lord Ruiz leave the manor without you. ”
It should have disturbed her that Noelia had tracked her, but Marisol’s mind couldn’t handle any more surprises. The last time they’d seen each other, she had dropped Noelia into a ditch deep enough to break bones. Still, Noelia had followed her. Still, Noelia had saved her.
Gaspar Ruiz, the man she’d thought was her partner, her guardian, her friend, had tried to murder her. And she had let him, ignoring every sign that he didn’t have her best interests at heart.
She covered her face with her hands. “You all were right. He didn’t trust me, either. He just took it a step further and tried to get rid of the problem for you.”
“Lord Ruiz only works for himself,” Noelia snapped, pausing in her search.
“And, yes, Marisol, we lied. People lie. But that doesn’t mean we don’t care about you.
That doesn’t mean that at least some of this summer wasn’t real.
I wanted to forgive and move forward, and you tried to assassinate the prince.
Between the two of us, you have more to answer for than I do.
My lies protected an entire group of people whose lives are constantly on the line. Who the hell were you protecting?”
Herself. Gaspar.
No, herself.
She had accused Bas of the exact same thing in the clearing.
You can make this about Coventry as much as you want, but you were saving yourself.
Had he known, even then, what a hypocrite she was?
She didn’t care about Coventry or Domingo.
She didn’t care to join a rebel group or help the other orphans.
She was not as loyal as Rodrigo, as smart as Teo, as fierce as Bas, or as devoted as Noelia.
Everything she’d done since leaving Kindred had been for herself and her vengeance. For Gaspar and his retribution.
She was selfish and wrong… and Noelia had still come back for her.
Marisol dropped her hands. Her tears had dried on her face in salty tracks that felt rough to the touch. “Where are they? Bas and Teo?”
“I can’t tell you that. Not until I know where we stand.”
Marisol stared at Noelia, who stared right back.
Shame tightened her throat. Even after saving her life, Noelia could still doubt that Marisol would be loyal to anyone but herself.
She and Gaspar had a lot in common, but she now knew that they differed in one respect: Marisol still had empathy, humanity.
She could still learn and change when presented with new experiences or information.
She had given Gaspar her love and loyalty and that hadn’t been enough to sway him from a path he’d been following for decades.
It would be easy for her to believe that she hadn’t been enough, but here Noelia was, proving her wrong.
Despite all the lies between them, three months of friendship had made her life worth saving in Noelia’s eyes.
“Let me help you,” she said softly. “I know where everything is.”
Together, they worked quickly, sorting out the useful correspondences and notes.
Letters from Alvaro and Itzal, discussing the beginnings of the plan.
Research on the potions, with failure after failure until he’d started to see results.
There were only two extra sets of each potion, which made Marisol falter.
If she had done better during the Coronet, would he have given her one of these? Or was that another lie?
She shook the thought from her head. He’d made his choices. Now she would make hers.
Noelia dumped everything into her bag. “I distracted all the servants with a kitchen fire and by releasing all the horses in the stables, but they’ll soon be making their way back. Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
Marisol smoothed out a final letter, realizing from the first few lines that it was about Teo.
Too independent , not aligned with our goals , certain she will be to blame , custom daggers .
The words jumped out at her, painting a picture of a king who wanted his own son dead and another man who was willing to frame Marisol for the crime.
Another surprise, another betrayal, that she didn’t have time to deal with.
Another crack in a heart that was barely holding on.
“Did you come by carriage?” she finally asked.
“Yes, I—” Noelia swore over by the window. “Guards are arriving. A lot of them. Lord Ruiz must have had a backup plan in case you didn’t die.”
Sometimes, anger becomes initiative.
Teo’s father had been the one who wanted him dead all this time.
If you push people past a certain point of ire, that loss of control is not a single act.
Ruiz wanted her dead or arrested, his crimes shifted from his shoulders onto hers. A girl who had lied about her very identity couldn’t be trusted to be honest about anything else. She was his perfect alibi.
It’s a movement. An unshackling.
Noelia and Bas had the Criterion to shelter them, but Marisol and Teo had nothing without them. For her and Teo to survive, Noelia and Bas needed to escape—and that meant no one could know that Noelia had helped her.
A revolution is nothing if not anger left to kindle.
Marisol folded the paper and handed it to Noelia. “You need to go, then. I’ll stay here.”
“What?” Her friend stopped in the middle of refastening her bag, her eyebrows raised. “They’ll kill you. Or arrest you. Or both.”
“They won’t kill me. Not yet. I survived, and Ruiz will want to know how I survived.
He’ll make sure that I stand trial, become an enemy to the world, and that I suffer long enough to know the consequences of moving against him.
” It was what she would do, if she were in his shoes.
Death was too kind a fate for her enemies.
She wanted them to hurt the way she’d been hurt.
Ruiz would want her to hurt, too. “You need to get these supplies and information to Bas and Teo. You need to keep your role in this a secret until we can see each other again. If Ruiz doesn’t think that he’s won, he’ll become even more dangerous.
We need him smug and complacent and ready to make a mistake we can exploit. ”
“But…”
“Listen to me,” Marisol whispered urgently.
“There’s a house in my name in—I think the neighborhood is called Gardenia?
Some of the kids who aged out of Kindred Orphanage have been staying there.
Take care of them. Make sure that he doesn’t hurt them or try to use them against me. Tell Ofelia that Caya sent you.”
“Who’s Ofelia?”
Marisol almost laughed at the absurdity. Instead, she glanced at the door, anticipating the guards that would soon burst through it.
“You need to leave, Noelia. Now.”
Noelia reached out and then hesitated, her hand hovering in the air between them. “What if—”
Marisol took her hand. Her smile was faint, but it was real.
She studied Noelia, her pale skin and golden hair, her worried eyes and her expertly applied makeup.
She hadn’t had a friend so true since Yoselin, and she wanted to memorize this moment.
Even believing her a fraud, even without knowing her motives, Noelia had been the best friend that Marisol had ever had.
“Go,” she said, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “Live. Let me save you this time.”
Noelia threw her arms around Marisol, catching her off guard.
It was such a familiar gesture that her eyes began to sting, but she had emptied herself of tears.
All she had left was her anger and her purpose.
She wouldn’t die while her enemies still lived.
She would make Gaspar Ruiz regret the moment he brought her from Kindred Orphanage and told her to take control of her own destiny.
With another long look, Noelia left the room.
Marisol settled into Gaspar’s chair, hating that it was still warm, hating that it smelled like him.
She had thought that this house could become her home, that this life could become her life.
She had been so naive then, but now her eyes were open.
She couldn’t sit around and wait for someone to hand her everything she had ever wanted.
She had to take it and forge her own way in the world.
She thought she had found peace in Coventry, but there could be no peace now.
Gaspar Ruiz had started a war.
She looked forward to ending it.
When the guards burst into the study a half hour later, Marisol wore her new face, her hands folded atop the desk and her chin lifted imperiously.
“Marisol Vinyet,” said the guard in front, his sword drawn. “You are under arrest for theft, fraud, and conspiracy to commit treason.”
“Am I?” She yawned daintily. “What took you so long?”