Except for Lo.Her best friend.
They had a pact, the two of them.One that Mayté could never forget.
She studied her left palm.The thin straight scar cut straight through the middle.When she closed her eyes, she saw Lo’s round cherub face and wild curls.Felt the misty breeze that cooled their skin.The dusty dirt under their knees.Tiny fingers trembling as they cut into each other’s palms, then warm and sticky red hands clasping together.A pact by blood.
Still clutching the poster, she ran as fast as she could.She needed to tell Lo.
“If Fortune’s Kiss returns to Milagro, we’re entering.No matter what.”
Mayté still heard Lo’s words all these years later.
“No matter what,” she whispered back.
TWOLo
Every girl dreamed of her wedding day.Fantasized about the suitors competing for her hand.Relished the doting attention, beautiful gowns, and anticipation of what was to come.
But Lorena de León did not.
Surrounded by bustling maids clad in black dresses and white shawls, she was dressed like a princess.Her custom gown, cream-colored with cheerful yellow vertical stripes, flattered her figure.Fitted from torso to hips, the gown flared into ruffles below.A white rose sat on her right shoulder with delicate fabric raining down like a cape.But a true princess wouldn’t feel so suffocated.So desperate to be anywhere but here.She winced as Talia, the maid, yanked her hair into submission.It was always a long and arduous process to imprison, or rathertame, her curls into a proper bun.Her tender scalp screamed, and it took everything inside her to keep from yelping.
“Oh, don’t make that dreadful face,” her younger sister, Sera, scolded from a nearby love seat.“Stop being so dramatic.It doesn’t even hurt.”She scowled, making the mole resting above her lip bounce.The expression on her face was much too serious for a girl her age.At only fourteen, she acted more like an adult.Looked the part too, always wearing her dark brown waves in a tight bun and her perfect bronze skin dusted in gold.Today shewore a white lace blouse and a fitted black skirt with azure patterns.The only facet of her appearance that gave away her age was her figure.Slender with barely any curves.It was the only way in which she was a late bloomer.
“Oh, hush.”Lo glared at Sera through the mirror.The room’s soft cream walls only served to accentuate the eclectic items inside it: the ornate rug, red as freshly mined rubies; the colorful vases all imported from far-off countries.Yet what caught Lo’s attention the most wasn’t something bought—it was the cloudless blue sky visible through the doorways.A soft breeze cut through the parlor, teasing her.
“You look beautiful, though.”Sera’s sharp expression softened with a dreamy sigh.“Once it’s my turn, I want a purple gown.A pink one, too.”
Lo laughed.Sera had been looking forward to her debut since she was five, always talking about it and planning how she would handle her suitors.Lo had never felt like that.Instead, as the years flew by, a knot of dread formed in her chest that grew bigger and bigger.Now at seventeen, less than a year away from marriage age, the knot tangled all the way up to her throat, threatening to choke her.Was there anything about reaching courting age that she looked forward to?She had never given herself the chance to decide.
Just as Talia finished pinning Lo’s hair, another maid rushed into the room.Lo smiled.Carmen, her favorite.
“El Señor regresa,” Carmen whispered.Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead and a deep flush colored her pale brown cheeks.She must have run all the way here to warn them.Carmen’s urgent eyes stared straight at Lo.The message was clear.The warning wasn’t for the maids.
This was the exact reason Lo favored her.She would never forget the muggy afternoon many years ago when she carelessly played around in this very room despite Mamá’s warnings.Of course, she had spun herself dizzy and clumsily stumbled into the shelf, knocking over a crystalline vase.Carmen, who had been dusting, witnessed everything.And when Lo’s father came around huffing and puffing, Carmen quickly took the blame.
But now it seemed that even Carmen couldn’t save her.Lo’s stomach churned, and the other maids broke into worried whispers.“Go find Sofía and start on your studies,” Lo told her sister.
“But I—” Sera began to argue.
“Go!”Lo pointed to the hallway.
“Fine.”Sera stomped off.
She didn’t understand, and Lo would see to it that she never did.
“Welcome back, señor.”The maids spoke in unison and bowed.
Salvador de León strode into the parlor, his clean-shaven face the color of copper and his expression cold as steel.With his tall, broad stature and long black sideburns, many found him handsome, yet the maids always seemed much more nervous than enamored.
“We just finished up the fitting,” Talia said.Her eyes wouldn’t quite meet Lo’s father’s hard gaze.
“I see,” he mused, his expression still unreadable.“You may leave.”He waved the maids away.One by one they obeyed, though Carmen looked back, round eyes extra wide.Lo wished she could leave with her.But that wasn’t how it worked.Soon it was just Lo and her father.
“Lorena.”
“Papá.”Ignoring her pounding heart, she straightened her shoulders and clasped her hands together like a proper young woman.“What do you think?”
He stared with narrowed eyes.His eyes were always like that, and his lips seemed stuck in a half smirk.At least, when he wasn’t snarling.
