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“Very good. Sandra and Oswaldo, come back and try again,” Lucas called, and the other couple stepped forward.
I met eyes with Liliana again. It was impossible to make her like me, but maybe I could give her what she wanted.
"Go back to Liliana," I said, barely audible over the music. Isaac's brow furrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.
"I didn’t choose her." He bit his lip. “You’re the first thing I’ve ever really chosen for myself, and I want to be with you. I want to succeed. I want to make my mother proud.”
I clenched my jaw, my heart twisting painfully in my chest at the thought of what success might mean for me. But there was no time to dwell on it; the dance demanded my full attention.
On and on we went, locked in an uncomfortable spot.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the rehearsal, I went back to eat. They had sent up tables full of food, couches for us to lounge on, and had scattered thick blankets which were being snatched up by the second. Why they didn’t just let us go inside, I would never know.
Santiago, who had been elsewhere during the practice, came and sat next to me. "Ready for the day after tomorrow?" Santiago asked, biting into a pastry.
He was being unnaturally friendly. Sure, he had saved me, but I could bet that had more to do with Magda than me.
“Yup," I replied, trying to keep my own expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I like you. And you mean the world to Magda. It’s in both of our interests if we become friends.”
I tilted my head to the side. “No, I mean in the capital. Antonio told me you were at your family’s estate.”
He nodded. “Ah, wondering why you haven’t had any visitors? We are being careful. She won’t be here until tomorrow. I left before the rest of my family.”
For the first time, I wondered what it must be like for the two of them. I hadn’t seen her yet, but they were… together. Even though I was being forced into marriage, he would deal with something ten times worse.
“Very well. Are you worried?”
He nodded. “I suppose. You”
I almost shook my head, but deep down, I was worried. Antonio had gone into preparation mode. If I had to hear about how dangerous the descent down the starting cliff was one more time, I would explode. I couldn't help but worry about Liliana's ability to be a good Key Bearer—if she could even focus on anything other than the resentment she felt towards me. “I’m tired, but I feel mostly prepared.”
"Right." Santiago didn't seem convinced. His brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line before he finally broke the silence again. "In case you were worried about a certain competitor in attendance, I think I overhead her telling someone that you aren’t that good at dancing. "
"Who?" I feigned ignorance, but the ice in my chest told me otherwise.
"Liliana. I think it’s safe to say she despises you." Santiago sighed. “You should’ve picked a different Key Bearer. But don’t worry, rule number three: this is a non-lethal tournament. Competitors shouldn’t conspire to kill other competitors."
I swallowed. “But they can sabotage, trip, poison, or leave to die. If I was in trouble, she could refuse to give me extra power. I know I’m going to get weak out there.”
Santiago shrugged. “She won’t have much of a choice. The magic compels the person holding it. The Key Bearers are closely watched in their chambers, and I think it would be impossible to let you die without someone noticing.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He looked at me. “The people of Arrebol love their princesses.”
I flushed and my scars burned all over again. That throb was slowly digging at my thoughts, making me hyper-irritated. Santiago knew who I was. That was why he lead me to the king’s secret tunnel and helped me escape.
Had we really become… friends?
"Hopefully she'll come around before the tournament starts," I offered weakly, not really believing the words myself.
"In two days?" Santiago laughed.
"You’re right," I said, forcing a smile.
Santiago nodded, and Isabela flung herself in the seat across from mine, and put her feet in one of the unoccupied chairs. “I don’t know how dancers do it. All that stomping, and I feel like I might lose a toenail.”
