Luzia’s fellow competitors had already gathered for the introductions.
The Beauty was dressed in cream velvet tonight, embellished with
pearls and diamonds and braided silver thread so that she gleamed like the first frost. Fortún Donadei wore green and gold again, and Teoda Halcón had a cross of silver embroidered on her red gown, as if she were a tiny soldier.
“La Hermanita has arrived,” she said with a smile. “What do you make of all of this merry show?”
“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Luzia murmured. “I don’t know if we’re meant to behave as if we’re at a party or at church.”
Teoda’s smile curled and she whispered, “Depending on the church, it can be hard to tell the difference.” In a more normal voice she added, “Gracia, I don’t know if you’ve met Luzia, though you seem most familiar with her milagritos.”
If Gracia was bothered by the jibe she didn’t show it. She merely curtsied. “A pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Luzia replied.
“That is Pedro del Valle,” said Fortún, bobbing his chin toward the man to the vicar’s right. “It was he who warned Lucrecia de León to cease her treason.”
“Before she was taken to Toledo?” asked Luzia.
Teoda shuddered. “He took her head between his palms and said, I have undone many prophets with these hands.”
“But she didn’t stop, did she?” Gracia observed. “Why bring such misery on yourself?”
“Perhaps her dreams demanded it,” Teoda said quietly.
Luzia was weary of waiting. She was eager to have these trials done and her future decided. But she suspected she would be sorry when it was all
over. She’d had little opportunity to make friends, and even if they were all rivals, they were united in their fears and wants. She liked Teoda and Fortún, and if Gracia hadn’t tried to have her murdered, she would probably like her too.
“Who sits to the vicar’s left?” Luzia asked.
“Fray Diego de Chaves,” Fortún replied, holding tight to his golden cross. “The royal confessor.”
Pérez’s red-bearded courtier was waving them over, grouping them with their patrons so that they could be brought forward. When they had all made their curtsies and bows and their names had been read aloud, Pérez himself climbed the dais and bowed deeply.
“May this night’s work please you and God,” he said humbly.
Fray Diego ignored him and leaned forward to address the gathered hopefuls. He had a long face, made longer by drooping jowls, and he gripped the arms of his chair as if he were trying to resist launching himself off the stage.
“Your friend Pérez would have liked Quiroga here to wave his hand over you and assure our king that all is as it should be. But you will have to face our scrutiny instead. True children of God have nothing to fear from our judgment. But be warned: magic may mimic God’s power, and the devil may use all his wiles to convince the weak-minded of prophecies and miracles. Our eyes are not so clouded.”
His dark gaze traveled over them one by one, and Luzia felt as if he could see every forbidden word she’d spoken scrawled across her forehead. She felt something brush against her fingers. Teoda stood beside her, and though she didn’t turn, Luzia was certain it had been her hand that she’d felt.
“We will know whose power is at work this night,” Fray Diego continued, “be its source divine or demonic, and we offer you this opportunity now: If you have made a bargain with evil forces, if you have trafficked in witchcraft or heresies, say so. Fall on your knees before almighty and eternal God and beg for His mercy. Confess and be forgiven.”
Silence surrounded them like a shroud. The sounds of the guests laughing and drinking seemed far too distant.
These were the men who had damned Lucrecia de León and cursed Piedrola. They had the ear of the king and maybe God Himself. What did they see? What might they already know?
Fear nothing. That was what Santángel had whispered to bring her back from the brink of death. Fear nothing, and you will become greater than
them all.
They are men and nothing more, she reminded herself, and held her tongue.
A minute passed, another. Would they wait here until someone faltered?
Until proof of God’s permission appeared or someone sprouted horns?
At last, Fray Diego slumped back in his chair. “Very well. Then do as you will, and may God show you the mercy we will not.”
Pérez bowed, smiling, as if the friar had encouraged them all to enjoy a fine meal. “I thank you and our king for this generosity.”
Then they were being waved away, herded into the guests milling about their seats, enjoying their wine and lemonade.
“There,” said Santángel, appearing at her elbow and steering her toward Don Víctor, “the worst is over.”
“Until they round us all up for trial. You abandoned me.” “I did as I was bid.”
“Because Don Víctor didn’t want you seen with me. Not before the vicar and the royal confessor.” She had been right. Víctor de Paredes had never intended to place her beneath his roof. Don Marius and Valentina would be his protection if Luzia failed or if she attracted the Inquisition’s attention. “It’s why he left me at Casa Ordoño. In case this all goes wrong.”
“Yes.”
Yes. That was all. She wanted to kick him.
“Did you expect fairness from Víctor de Paredes?” he asked. “I would sooner expect poetry from a bear.”
“Then stop sulking and focus your mind on the trial ahead.”
Don Víctor was waiting near the front of the crowd. He rose as they approached and offered his hand to the woman beside him so that she might rise too.
“Come,” he said, “my wife longs to meet the famous milagrera. Doña María, this is Luzia Cotado, La Hermanita.”
Luzia was surprised by how lovely Don Víctor’s wife was. She couldn’t have looked more different from Hualit, her skin like a dish of fresh milk, her thick hair the bright gold of newly minted coins. Her gown was blue silk, wrought with a pattern of tiny golden ibises. She looked like a ship about to set sail. She looked like prosperity.
Somehow Luzia had thought his wife would be plain or shy, that he had sought out Hualit for her beauty and polish. But maybe men like Don Víctor didn’t need to contemplate what they needed, only what they desired.
Luzia curtsied deeply and Doña María smiled, taking her hand. “What a pleasure to meet such a woman.”
For a moment Luzia thought she was being mocked, but Doña María’s eyes were warm.
“I am only a humble scullion, señora,” Luzia said.
Doña María gripped her hand more tightly. “You are an instrument of God, chosen by Him to help our king and country. I have asked our priest to say masses for your safety and success in this mission.”
“Thank you, señora.”
“Do not thank me.” Doña María pressed a kiss to Luzia’s knuckles. Her eyes were too bright. “I gladly serve you as you serve God.”
“Come, my love,” Don Víctor said, pulling his wife away. “Luzia must prepare.” His gaze met Santángel’s, who directed Luzia toward where the other hopefuls were reassembling by the puppet stage.
“I’ve felt frightened of discovery,” Luzia whispered. “Angry for the need to dissemble. But this is the first time I’ve felt ashamed of our lies.”
“Doña María is kind and gentle, and being eaten alive by her own longing. An astróloga read her chart and told her that she wouldn’t conceive until the Dutch were brought back under Catholic control.”
“And that’s why she prays so fervently?”
“No, she was always devout. But that charlatan has made her desperate. I’ve tried to reassure her, but she won’t hear me. She thinks God has found her faith wanting.”
“But you can’t promise her a child.”
“Of course I can. It’s why Víctor’s devotion to her has never wavered. He knows a child will come when it best suits his interests.”
“You’re so sure of your own influence?”
“Every De Paredes wife has born a son and every son has survived birth, and childhood, and the follies of youth to make my life miserable until he dies contented in his own bed. My confidence is well earned.”
“What are you talking about? And why are you snarling at me as if I’d tried to pick your pocket?”
“I did not snarl.”
“You might as well have bared your teeth while you did it.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a pool of shadow by the stage. “I’m trying to protect us, Luzia. To protect you.”
She dipped into a curtsy. “Thank you, señor. Your rudeness is a mighty shield.”
“You asked why I’m able to eat, to rest, to ride, why I have regained my health.” He glanced back at the crowd and lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “Can you not guess it? It’s not the cook who tempts me back to appetite. It is yet another miracle to your credit.”
Luzia nearly laughed. “I didn’t restore you. I wouldn’t know how!” “Every time you use your gift, every time you use me, you let me take a
bit of your power for myself. Just as I make you stronger, you do the same for me. You make the blood flow in my veins once more. You remind my heart to beat.”
“A heart cannot forget to beat,” she scoffed.
His face shuttered. “All things can be forgotten given enough time. Now cease your complaining and fix your mind on the task ahead.”
He strode away and she had to resist the urge not to let a little song slip free and trip him with a tree root. But with or without Santángel she had a real battle to fight. Her rivals were waiting at the front of the stage.
