AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Señor Castillas needed to be at an arm’s length. I would need to say something that could in no way be interpreted as warmth toward him.
“You are not kind, Antonio. I am grateful for all of your help, and a part of me trusts you, but don’t mistake gratitude and trust for acceptance of your character. I expect you to be nothing other than what you are,” I said heatedly. My genuine emotions only shone through for a few seconds before I returned to the perfect porcelain doll that Señora Olguín had been metaphorically beating me into every day for weeks on end.
Antonio went silent. It was like the moment when a large boulder slid into place over the opening of a cave, making the area airtight and muffling all noise. I could hear my heart, my breathing, and those around me. I didn’t understand the aching and burning between us.
Dessert came and left in a blur. It wasn’t until a few notes resonated through the open patio door in the next room that I could finally breathe again.
Chapter38
¿Quieres Bailar Conmigo?
Music was definitely playing, singing to me through the crowds of people. I stood up, enticed to move into a solarium filled with a sweet-smelling flowers, chairs, couches, and a wide open floor. The lights twinkled on the glass, and I could see the garden below. Isaac brushed past me, and I sighed. The smell of him, expensive cologne and hair pomade, overwhelmed my senses.
For a moment, I slowed down. I wanted him to say something, to look at me. But he continued to the far wall where Isabela was standing.
Over the rumble of conversations, and the wobbly gait of some guests, I heard Señora Jimenez say, “Young people only tonight.” She slid one of her long, elegant arms around the waist of her husband. Señor Flores smiled broadly and looked down at his wife.
It struck me how much this rite of passage meant to these people. Not just a rite—a mating ritual spanning back to the time of courtiers under the line of kings. While it was impressive, I was of my own mind. It didn’t matter how many survived, or how high the scores were, I couldn’t be convinced that gruesome survival in the Fuego de Cinturón would qualify a group of people to be elevated above another.
Santiago’s mother continued, “I met the love of my life dancing at one of these parties a little over twenty years ago. May you all make friends and allies that last you a lifetime!” She raised a crystal glass filled with crimson liquid.
The rational part of me knew it wasn’t blood. But that was the reason for all of this, no? Blood Magic. An egocentric type of sorcery.
“Salud,” rumbled quietly throughout the room, as many raised their glasses in concordance.
I looked around for Antonio, and found him strangely absent. He had been next to me a few moments ago. My eyes widened as I watched couples pair off and start the steps to an elaborate waltz I didn’t know.
Contrary to what some people believed, a bailarina didn’t instinctively know every kind of dance. There was barely any cultural cross-over between the upper and lower classes. How could I know the delicate turns and hand movements? The little saucy kicks looked charming, but I didn’t know where they belonged in schematics of the choreography.
Even worse, no one was making any indication that they would come near me. It was then that I found Isaac taking the hand of the Liliana Montoya. She flicked her fan at him and he smiled at her with his dimpled cheeks and long, dark lashes.
The young woman was a beautiful vixen, and reminded me a little of Aurora with her blond hair and round face.
I gently and swiftly sank into the shadows along the walls and let out a long breath.
Ana hadn’t told me there would be dancing. Antonio had abandoned me.
For a few moments, the melody entranced me in a way that only an excellent song could. Until the familiar words started.
“Yo no necesito mucho, solo tu amor…”
My stomach flipped over. I didn’t want love songs—I wanted ballads about power or revenge. Songs about danger or mystery. I wanted to get out of this damned room.
The dance finished, and then another one started.
And another.
One mother appeared at my side. I recognized Carolina Olguín, Isabela’s mother, and Ana Olguín’s sister. She was wearing a jade-green gown with pearl studs sewn all around it, and a more docile face than her sister. I smiled at her, but she frowned. Worry washed through me. Had I had made some kind of mistake?
She leaned over and said, “It’s so rude none of the young men have asked you to dance.”
I smiled and clasped my hands together in front of me. “I don’t mind.”
She shook her head. “I do. Eres la joya de esta pequeña velada, and you don’t even have any parents to broker your matches.”
Ah. That made a lot more sense. I peered down at her. “I am too tall, and not half as beautiful as they might like.”
Señora Olguín held my gaze. “You look nice enough. Plus, you have something far more valuable than beauty, my dear. These boys are weak.”
