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"Oh?” she demurred.
My heart sped up in my chest, and I crossed my arms. Did she still want Isaac? She had told me that she saw him as a future, a way to survive. But I could give her so much more than that.
The Canciller was always vindictive, and I had gotten good at recognizing his plans, but even I couldn’t have predicted what came next.
“Antonio Castillas,” Duarte said the words as if they were nothing.
Alvaro stopped writing at my side. “Well, shit, my boy. We’re going to have to take that line and run. Forget everything I said before.”
I shook my head, intent on the conversation. Terror and rapture tugged at the two halves of my soul. It made no sense that he would approve a marriage and then say this on national television.
Perhaps one of his masters had been pulling strings.
If Duarte was asking her this, that meant that he was going to keep me in charge of her. That was dangerous, and yet… I needed to see Carmen’s reaction, I needed to know. For once, her face was perfectly masked. Damn that beautiful face.
“There are quite a few rumors circulating tabloids about you too. A stolen glance there, a touch here. You have to understand, I must ask. Have you ever considered what life would be like if you were to marry him instead?" He leaned back in his chair, a sly smile spreading across his lips. “People do love a good story filled with intrigue and unexpected twists, even if the companionship is... unconventional."
Carmen blinked, and then one hand trembled as she rubbed the back of her hands, almost as if she were touching those ugly scars.
I felt so helpless.
Please, Carmen. Choose me. Please. I can do things right this time.
"Antonio Castillas is nothing more than a mentor to me," she stammered, blushing.
I turned to stone.
Duarte wasn't satisfied, and his voice lowered ever so slightly. "Your impending engagement to whomever is of great importance to our people. I trust you understand the gravity of the alliance you are forming, and the expectations that come with it, and, to be frank, I look forward to a golden ceremony. What do you think?"
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words bear down on me like a thousand tons of volcanic ash.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple and she brushed it away. Alvaro tutted.
She tugged at her sleeves, as if her scars writhed beneath the cloth. I focused on breathing long and slow.
“Indeed," she said at last, swallowing hard.
The Canciller’s smile was practically feral. “Ay, no te escondes, Chica Dorada.”
She squirmed, tugging harder at her sleeves as if she wanted to tear them at the seam. Those emotions danced across her face, until, at last, she straightened her spine and her confidence returned. “It would be improper for a lady to kiss and tell,”—She paused, looking directly at the camera,—“But you all will be the first to know if I marry.” She paused and then corrected, “When. When I get married.”
It did not affect me. I had no more reason to hope, and there was still a letter from the Marriage Council back at home.
“Muy bien, Renata,” the Canciller said. Then his voice changed, dripping with authority as he switched back into moralizing. "Our society thrives on tradition. Strong marriages are at the heart of that, and we expect nothing less from our future leaders. Love is at the heart of all goodness, and it brings me great pleasure to see matches forming year after year."
She turned back to the nation’s leader. “I agree completely, Canciller.”
Duarte leaned back in his chair, fingers laced together, and smiled unnervingly, like her answers pleased him. "Renata, to finish, let’s discuss your preparation for the upcoming Blood Tournament," he said, his voice slick like oil. “Give us the inside look for those who will never go through something like this themselves.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Well, preparation for something like this is like trying to eat an entire pig without utensils. At first, it feels overwhelming, to say the least, but I’ve really enjoyed working with Señor Castillas.”
I hated when she called me that.
“With his guidance, I've been practicing my agility and endurance, as well as studying the volcanic terrain to better understand its dangers. I've been training to improve my climbing skills after seeing all the different routes across the Cinturón del Fuego.”
"Your dedication is commendable," Canciller Duarte remarked, his smile widening as if he had sensed her uncertainty. "You truly are a testament to the strength of our newest generation."
I frowned. Why did she sound like that? I’d made sure she’d spent hours preparing for her tournament, and it was like she didn’t understand it at all. It was simple: two days through the forests filled with frenzied wolves, scavenging, shelter, rappelling, and then scaling to the viewpoint on top of La Dama. The first person to spill their blood into the volcano won.
