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I rallied as much courage as possible. “I don’t think I’m being unreasonable by asking you to explain what is happening.” Keeping calm was taking every particle of self-control I possessed. I didn’t want him any more aggrieved than he already was. No more anger, no more having the last word, I needed him to give me answers.
His nostrils flared. “First,”—he spoke with that same clipped tone he always seemed to use,—“we were supposed to meet last night, but you were asleep. Second, you are an Élite, made famous overnight. The shining star of the commonwealth. You will not speak openly unless we are in private. Seeing as how I only have so much money to pay off those who would glean confidential information, I expect you to use your common sense and not run your mouth in front of servants.”
His comment shocked me. “But they work for you. Shouldn’t they be loyal… to you?”
I already knew the answer was no, but it didn’t hurt any less when his eyes flicked down as he sneered. “You do not understand how the world works. Only some of these people work for me. Others work for my mother. I don’t have female servants to avoid gossip since I am, once again, the most eligible stag in Arrebol.”
My eyebrows drew together. “No women?”
He grimaced. “None. Not even a female housekeeper. I sent for Isolda from my mother’s estate when it became necessary for you to stay somewhere.”
I blinked. I hadn’t thought about his mother—Adelaida Morales—the short woman with unnaturally red hair and matching lipstick. I couldn’t remember much about his father, but lipstick brought me back to his late wife. He never spoke of her, and this house was too strange and foreign to recognize holes where she might have existed while living.
Would people think there was something romantic between us? Only the ravenous masses would think we felt anything other than exasperation.
“Do you understand?” Antonio’s rich voice drew me from my thoughts.
I nodded. “Of course.”
He stepped back, putting more than physical distance between us, and straightened his coat. “There will be a meeting tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Breakfast is served at 7:00 a.m, and you are expected to eat. Try not to spend two hours in the bath again.”
My face flushed. Isolda must’ve told him. “I—”
Antonio’s golden-brown hand flew up. “Stop apologizing so much. Let this be a lesson to you: everyone talks here. The less you open your mouth, the less they have to say.”
The world tilted sideways. My lips parted only for me to lose all words. Loneliness swirled around the room, creating a vortex that wrapped around my body.
I was good and truly on my own.
Still being at a loss for words, I nodded and wrapped my arms around my ribs.
Antonio took a step, and then hesitated. “It’s not a lie. We really are expected not to work on Sundays. Enjoy the rest of your day.” And then he left.
Chapter18
Huerto de Naranjas
The food in my stomach curdled, and I held myself tighter. This house felt so empty even though it housed a horde of Trabajadores—a class of individuals who had been my equals just yesterday, but now darted past avoiding eye contact and bowing slightly every time they saw me. It was haunted by invisible rules and customs. Not to mention the ghost of a dead wife.
She was only twenty when she had died. Not much older than me. Mortality had become a poignant concern in the last day now that I would be forced to compete in the tournament.
My gaze landed back on the trees outside with sleek, rich green leaves. The Trabajadores had all but disappeared, leaving behind only a little fruit on the trees and a few wooden crates filled with the vibrant oranges.
My limbs felt restless, and if I was going to be expected to have the rest of the day off, I might as well do some exploring.
Resolved in my desire for fresh air, I pushed through the doors that led out of the room. There was no one waiting on the other side, and I wondered what had happened to Isolda and the other man.
I continued walking back toward the large hall. Every step was too loud, and I couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. The air brushed against my skin in a foreign way, adding another layer of rejection. I didn’t belong here.
I pushed my thoughts down, and kept walking. I must’ve been getting close based on the windows around me. When I pushed an ornate double door, I was pleased to find it led to an outdoor dining area. There were three glass tables with chairs stacked on top of them, and a fountain in the corner next to a shrine of La Familia Real, with the king, queen, and their sons.
From thin air, a young man appeared.
“Would you like me to set up a place for you, Señorita?” he asked.
I smiled and shook my head. “No gracias. I am heading into the orchard.”
He gestured to an enormous gramophone in the corner. “Should I put this out so that you can listen to music while you stroll? The sound echoes nicely in the trees, and many of our guests enjoy the luxury.” He smirked in a charming way. “They say the music makes the oranges sweeter.”
