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It turned out that “team” was an extremely accurate word to describe what Adelaida Morales had brought for me. Fingers were all over my body—taping, scraping, plucking, and brushing. There was a feverish quality to the way their eyes scanned my skin. Isolda knew these women very well and chatted with them in hushed tones while she curled my hair.
Luckily for my nerves, Adelaida wasn’t present while they painted, styled, and dressed me, but her touch was everywhere.
I was also grateful that there would be no fans tonight, as I was far from bilingual. There were many reasons to feel uneasy, but one of the biggest ones was the promised lack of Javier and Manuel, who would be stationed in my rooms to ensure there was no tampering. I felt naked knowing how close my proximity to the Canciller would be without them.
It wasn’t hard to understand what Antonio meant when he had described his mother as a diamond-walking. One look at the white diamonds stuck to my lids and lashes were little more than glitter compared to the jewels. I was frosted in sparkles, and gilded by the 14 karat gold dripping from my ears and neck, like a morbid display of my magical blood.
“I’m not your friend.”
The words pounded in my skull as I was escorted to the ball. Music filtered through the halls of the Old Palace; the sound of the guitar mixed perfectly with the emotive high notes of a fiddle. Flamenco music. It was an enchanting melody that set something ancient and magical alive in the surrounding air.
My breath caught in my throat.
Everywhere I looked there were servants dressed in elegant suits and floor-length dresses while carrying towels and small little entremesas. The aroma of delicious food wafted through the air, luring me further into the depths of the palace.
Emboldened, I followed the music and the smells through the grand hallways and the seemingly endless rooms, until I reached a large open balcony leading to the grand staircase, where a Trabajador was waiting to announce my arrival. My stomach knotted up, and I took shaky breath after shaky breath while my heartbeat sounded in my ears.
As soon as I reached the railing that overlooked the enormous ballroom, I peered over and gasped. It was as if the palace itself had been transformed into a painting. Brass chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings draped in red velvet, while sconce lights dotted the walls like brilliant jewels. The air in this room felt obsolescent with the reek of old-fashioned tradition.
I had always thought the line of kings had presented people with a better life than the one we were living, but if they lived in palaces like this… How different could it have been?
That thought dampened my spirits. Everything was cold, despite the abundance of fires lit to heat the room.
I hung back for a moment, gazing at the gathering of people—all of whom were dancing to the bright and seductive music. They moved with grace and elegance, their colorful dresses and suits blending in perfect harmony. It wasn’t Flamenco, but I enjoyed it.
The more I watched, transfixed by the beauty of it all, the more I settled into quiet wonder. Defying my own nature, I felt like I had stepped into a dream I would have a hard time leaving. For a moment, I was lost in their song and in their movement, and everything else around me faded away.
Until the Trabajador noticed me and pounded his large staff-like stick into the floor.
“Señorita Renata Valarde Bordón, La Chica Dorada,” his deep voice called out.
There was silence as the sound reverberated off the walls.
I took another deep breath, trying not to feel foolish for walking in alone.
Every gaze in the room snapped onto me. Cold sweat beading across my entire body, but I took a step forward, gently picking up the hem of my dress, and smiled at my curious audience. I moved the way Ana had made me practice dozens of times.
I saw Santiago and his parents first, followed closely by Isabela and her mother, and then finally my gaze landed on the devastatingly handsome Isaac. He wore a white tie tuxedo, perfectly fitted to his body. Gold chains hung from his suit pockets and wrists, and, to my shock, a red rose—the same shade as my dress—was tucked into his lapel.
As if we were meant to match.
He looked gaunt, like he hadn’t eaten for several days. A hollowness permeated the smile he was giving Isabela. And then, I saw another girl with golden hair slip her arm into Isaac’s. His prometida.
Liliana Montoya.
My mouth parted, and I remembered the way he had watched her at the audition, how they had danced together…
I had chosen her as my Key Bearer. What the hell was I thinking? I was going to be sick.
Isaac laughed across the room, but the motion was haggard. I thought of that time I’d caught Isaac using Ash. But he had given that up for me, right? Even if we weren’t together, that promise was good for both him and his health. He wouldn’t break it, right?
Conflicted emotions threatened to overwhelm me, but I glided effortlessly down, descending like the first morning night upon the awaiting world. I held my chin high.
I was the favorite, and I commanded attention, and it didn’t at all matter that all I really wanted to do was crawl under a rock somewhere and hide. The deep red gown had been tailored to fit my every curve, and sent a message to all. A message of dominance and danger.
A signal to the men looking for a match.
I watched Isaac enjoy the silhouette as his eyes landed on the lavish array of gold jewelry splayed across my neck and throat. The enormous diamond attached to the necklace felt heavier than it had when first putting it on, and I could even feel the breathtaking sparkle every time the light hit it just right.
