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As he walked behind a procession of other servants, Rafaelo couldn’t help but be impressed by the magnificence of the place. Despite having been born in wealth, he’d never seen a more sumptuous house before—though house was a small word compared to what this place was.
He walked slowly, absorbing all of the details of the architecture, his eyes full of wonder, as he noticed a mix of traditional Mexican paraphernalia, his scholarly interest piqued by the various small items strewn around.
With a clearer mind, it finally dawned on him that the pyramid had the shape of one of the traditional Aztec temples he’d studied. He hadn’t been able to see the carvings in detail, since only a slew of people were ordered to work on those, but he promised himself next time he went there he would check them out.
Slowly, information flooded his brain as he remembered more from his previous life. His studies had centered around Aztec ceremonial items, particularly precious stones and other relics. But looking around, he realized the owner—the el señor people kept talking about—must have a fondness of his country’s pre-Columbian history. There was no other explanation for the various items he kept spotting. The most intriguing of all were the ceremonial masks hung on the walls and the amount of obsidian strewn around the house.
Every corner had a piece of obsidian, the material emitting a low shine when the sun hit it.
Rafaelo suddenly came to a halt as he realized the queue of servants had stopped.
Music echoed through the hallways as he tilted his head to the side to study the inside of the room, curious what could have made everyone pause.
His mouth fell open as he took in the lavishness of the room. It was bathed in gold, with flowers strewn around everywhere. To the right side, a mariachi band played a lively song, while the guests mingled on the left side.
Everything looked positively ancient, from the people’s way of dress to their mannerisms, and Rafaelo found himself fascinated by the entire display.
Yet more than anything, something else stole his attention.
In the center of the room, serving as a divide between the other two sides, were two gilded thrones. The metal shone when a beam of sunlight hit it, and Rafaelo could bet it wasrealgold.
They have slaves. Of course it must be gold.
As he slowly advanced, Rafaelo got a better look at the two people sitting on the thrones. One was a man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties. He had a bored look on his face as he tapped his fingers against the seat, his eyes scouring his surroundings for something.
Next to him was a woman—amuchyounger woman, for she couldn’t be more than twenty.
Yet as Rafaelo’s gaze landed on her face, he froze.
His limbs became heavy as his eyes were riveted to her face.
God… He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight.
She had an olive complexion, with freckles dotted over the bridge of her nose, spreading to her chiseled cheeks. Her eyes were big and expressive, one moment brown, the next green, the switch in color as seamless as it was enthralling. Big, black lashes framed her almond-shaped eyes, giving her a cat-like look that was both seductive and innocent at the same time. Her full lips were painted red, looking puffy and pouty and Rafaelo was forced to swallow hard as sweat suddenly beaded on his forehead.
She was wearing a red dress embroidered with gold thread, her hair tied back into a tight bun.
Had he ever seen a more beautiful woman? He didn’t think so. Not when he found he could not move as he simply stared at her and the gracefulness of her movements.
His eyes followed her hand as it reached in the air and made a light sway before the mariachi band suddenly stopped playing. At the same time, the queue started moving as food was being served.
Rafaelo willed his feet to follow, but every step felt heavier and heavier as he neared the center of the room.
He kept staring at her, almost as if he mentally willed her to look at him, foolishly thinking that something might happen the moment their gazes met.
Yet just as he lost himself to the sight of her, he didn’t realize when one of the guards intervened, grabbing him by the arm and bringing him to the front. He tripped, barely holding onto the tray of food so nothing would spill over.
His breath labored, he felt confused as he couldn’t understand what was happening.
It was only when he slowly raised his gaze that he realized he was right in front of the throne. So close… So…
For a moment he didn’t dare look up. But as he followed the contours of her dress, he couldn’t help but feel a foreign impetus to lift his head.
Up close, she was even more beautiful. Her skin was luscious, something of an unnatural glow emanating from her—or maybe it was just his ailed mind. He only knew that as he continued to look at her, he found himself in her thrall.
And then, at last, their eyes met. Hers fluttered in shock, while his flared in surprise.
His mouth formed a small o as a current of electricity coursed throughout his body. For a moment he had to wonder if he was not still under the influence of the drugs, for his limbs felt heavy and languid, his heart thudding mercilessly in his chest.
