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I grimaced at the second statement. She liked to yell at me in private, not talk.
“That’s kind of you, but I am fine. Thank you,” I said, keeping my eyes averted from her gaze.
“Come now, it’s not a problem,” she replied. “You’re like family now. Why would I let you leave like this?” Martina looked at me expectantly with that unnerving smile.
I let out a sigh.
In the end, I had no choice but to follow her out of the ballroom.
I turned around to take a quick glance at Isaac, and I saw him standing there with the same empty look in his eyes. It was so strange, so foreign to the bubbly, devious young man I knew. I bit my lip in regret, but I knew that apologizing for my imposed distance would only make things worse for me.
Instead of speaking, I turned on my heel and followed Martina out.
Chapter46
Enrique Asbaje Torres
She led me up two flights of stairs and towards a side door that connected to a hallway lined with rooms. She didn’t speak the entire walk, only dragged me along. We nodded at people we passed with delicate, carefully practiced smiles and fingers laced together as if we were the best of friends. The sound of her heels against wood and marble floors grated against the inside of my skull. We stopped before one of the uniform wooden doors with brass handles near the end of the way.
The inside of the study was bigger than expected, with just as many mirrors and paintings as the rest of the walls in the palace. A touch of personality was mixed in by the rows of bookshelves and the cozy fire burning softly in the brick fireplace. There was a comfortable-looking couch in the center of the room with a small table in front of it.
“Wait here,” Martina said, releasing my hand. Then she paused in front of the door. “If you leave, you’ll regret it.”
I froze in place, and she left waiting for what felt like an eternity. My mind fell back to trying to decipher what kind of elaborate trap this was. My connection to Isaac was severed, so what more could I want?
I paced in front of the bookshelves, avoiding the fireplace and its scorching heat. While the ballroom had been chilly, this room was excessively hot. It was hard to admit that at the root of my discomfort was this enduring sensation that I didn’t belong here, and would belong nowhere.
When Señora de León returned, she was carrying a large envelope stuffed with papers. She sat on the couch and gestured for me to sit across from her. She sat with her ankles crossed, her hands on her lap, and smiled politely.
My insides tightened, and my gut screamed at me to run. I stared at her hands, studied the deep brown pouch with a delicate golden string tied around it, and sweat broke out on my palms.
She sat down on the couch and gestured for me to sit as well.
“Renata, I’ve had a change of heart. I’m sure my son has already told you, but I am giving you another chance.” She said the words quickly. “Against his better judgment, Isaac wants you.”
I blinked. “What about the engagement?”
She took a sharp breath. “It will be handled. Of course, you are still expected to uphold your end of the deal.”
The sound of a server laughing as he walked past the door made me pause, and I glanced at the door. Martina wanted me to win the Blood Tournament, as did I. But I didn’t want to win for her or Isaac. “I don’t make deals with vipers.”
Martina’s low voice made my attention snap back onto her face. “So, you’re saying no.”
I looked back at the door before returning my attention to Martina. I needed to get out of here. “I’m saying no.”
She adjusted her position on the coach, eyes flicking to the necklace once more. “Very well. After our discussion on the roof two weeks ago,” she said slowly, carefully, “I dug into your past.”
A sour taste crept up in the back of my throat. There wasn’t just one skeleton in my closet—there was a whole graveyard of lies and secrets. She opened the envelope and started removing the papers. This was terrible indeed.
“You may not know this, because you weren’t raised to be an Élite, but we all have at least one Guardia assigned to our household. Ours is very gifted with disinterring information.” She smiled again, that terrible predatory expression.
Sweat formed in my palms, and my heart was beating out of control. She shot out words faster than I could absorb them. I was trembling, my whole body shaking.She knew everything.
With her delicate, nimble fingers, she pulled out one particular picture and handed it to me. Time had worn away the edges of the image, and there were holes where the paper had flaked away. I recognized the docks of Puerto Dolores almost instantly and my stomach roiled. The board walk was crowded with dozens of people—both the old and young contrasted each other with wide smiles and disapproving frowns. It didn’t look like a particularly important event, but there was one person in focus. A woman carrying a small baby. Neither of them wore nice clothing, but the woman was breathtaking. The piercing black and sepia orbs stared at me from the aged photo.
Eyes that I saw when I looked in the mirror.
My vision unfocused.
