Relic (17 page)

Álvar nodded. “Yes. Good. He lives on the East Coast, of course, but he may be visiting soon.”

“You must meet so many interesting people with all these guests coming and going from who knows where.”

He chuckled, but I noticed a lack of mirth in his laugh. “Yes. I wish they were all as pleasant company as you, Maggie, but alas, they are not.”

“No trouble, I hope?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then a strained smile pulled at his lips. “Of course not.”

My jaw tightened. More lies. More secrets.

“Shall we walk back?” he said brightly, leading me away by the arm.

“That was all you wanted to show me? A mining tunnel?” I peered back into the black depths. The ache to investigate hadn’t gone away. And now, with Álvar’s secrecy, I wondered if there weren’t some dark truth connected to it. A shiver rushed over me.

“You must be cold,” Álvar said, removing his coat. “These caverns can get quite drafty.” He draped his thick coat gently around my shoulders. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He continued to lead me away from the tunnel and back to the others. I turned a regretful glance over my shoulder but followed along.

“So, Maggie,” Álvar said after a pause. “Are you liking it here? At my home, I mean.”

“My sister is very happy, sir. And that makes me happy.”

A sad smile colored his face. “It is my great regret that I was never close to a brother or sister.”

Only then did I realize that I’d never seen any immediate family at the Hacienda. “I didn’t realize you even had siblings.”

“Yes. I had one brother. He died very young of the same pneumonia that took my mother.”

“My brother Josiah died of pneumonia,” I said, surprised and saddened to have such a thing in common.

“A terrible illness,” Álvar said grimly. He sighed. “And then my father died five years ago. Fell from a horse.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“It was difficult to lose him. As the only heir to the Castilla line, I inherited everything at twenty-one. A man, but many thought me not ready to take on the responsibilities required to manage the Hacienda. Sometimes I wonder if they weren’t right.”

His words surprised me. It was the first crack in the calm, confident persona Álvar always presented. But more than that, it surprised me to see that I had something so profound in common with a man I’d always imagined to be worlds apart from me.

“I worry all the time that I’m not fit to take care of Ella,” I said softly, fingering the hem of Álvar’s jacket.

He gave me a sidelong glance. “But you do well; I see that. You are as good to her as any mother could be.”

My face rushed with heat. “Thank you, sir.”

“Álvar,” he said.

“Álvar,” I repeated.

A twitter of voices echoed toward us through the pathway. We were nearing the others. I could hear one of the Haciendellas complaining loudly, and I recognized it as Granada’s voice. “If he does not come back soon, I will go look for him myself.”

Álvar smiled. “I should rejoin my other guests.”

I turned to him, blocking his path. “Wait.”

His eyebrows rose with surprise.

“What was in the tunnel?” I asked, holding his gaze. “I know you didn’t bring me here just to tell me something I already knew.”

He analyzed me for a moment, indecision shading his gaze. “I cannot tell you everything. Not yet.”

“Tell me
something
, then.” I knew I didn’t have the power of the siren relic to help me, but perhaps I didn’t need it. “Please.”

“I will say only this: the world has much to learn about relics, about how they came to be. But there are theories. And there are some who would do anything,
anything
to possess the truth.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but he caught himself and stopped.

“We will talk more later,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning. “I promise you.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Álvar stayed true to his word. He summoned me to meet him three times over the next three days. We met in his relic vault, examining his different specimens and testing out their magic. On the afternoon of the third day, we spent hours flipping through his beautiful, gilded relic almanac, discussing the different magic types.

“Ah,” Álvar said, tapping a page bearing the illustration of a gleaming green relic. “This is a good example of what I mean. Wyvern. From the shores of England.”

We were seated side by side at the small table at the center, sharing the single, large almanac. I peered at the smaller drawing of the creature beneath it.

“Wyvern? Looks a lot like a dragon to me.”

“To most, it does,” Álvar agreed. “And yet there are subtle variances in appearance, and dramatic changes in the type of magic.”

I studied the picture a moment, noticing the lack of front legs, the strange barb on the tail, and the slight difference in wing shape.

“You see, the essence of fire magic is consumption,” Álvar continued. “Physical fire consumes whatever it comes in contact with, but relic fire can consume anything. While dragon relic magic produces normal fire, wyvern fire burns green. And instead of destroying with heat and flame, it consumes with a poison that kills living things with sickness.”

“Fascinating,” I murmured, transfixed.

Álvar cocked his head to the side a little, watching me. He then went to one of the black boxes on his upper shelf. I perked up.

“You have a piece?”

“A very small one,” he said, smiling. “I’ve always been especially drawn to fire relics. Moon John says it’s because I was born under the sign of the dragon.”

My pulse increased as Álvar set the box on the table and sat beside me again. I wanted to snatch it and rip the lid off to get a peek, but I restrained myself. Álvar drew a small, corked vial from the box. Inside, a tiny shard of emerald green wyvern relic glinted through the glass.

“Amazing,” I breathed.

“One of my favorite pieces.”

I analyzed Álvar as he examined the relic. He continued to surprise me. There was more to him than the rich playboy and womanizer.

He flipped to a page in the almanac featuring a different species of wyvern. As he spoke, I realized how close we were standing together. I could feel the warmth of his arm touching mine. The flicker of a daydream slid into my mind: Álvar and me traveling the world to study relics. The things we would see, the things we would learn together! There could be worse fates than being on the arm of a handsome, wealthy man like him, even only as his mistress. It could almost be worth it. No more scraping out a barely acceptable living for Ella and me. No more watching my dreams drift away as I scrubbed floors.

I felt Álvar’s dark gaze and snapped back to the present, back to the real world. My cheeks flushed. I pretended to be absorbed in the almanac page but scolded myself inwardly. It was ridiculous to entertain such whims, even as a passing fancy. Not only would I never think so poorly of myself as to be a kept woman, it seemed more and more clear to me that Álvar had no intention of making me one. We’d spent hours alone together here in his vault. He’d had more than enough opportunities to try and seduce me if he’d wanted. It appeared he truly did only have interest in helping me develop my talent for relics.

I fumbled to fill the awkward silence. “You have quite the collection,” I said, motioning to the wyvern piece. “All these different relics, they could buy a king’s ransom.”

Álvar’s hand gripped around the little bottle, his eyes cutting to mine. “They are more than expensive treasures, Maggie.”

“Yes, I agree. I was only saying—”

“They are the key to understanding our world,” Álvar said, his expression both earnest and intense. “They are the last clues we have as to the dawn of the world and the creation of magic.” He went on, taken by his own thoughts. “Knowledge is power. And you cannot put a price on power.”

He fell quiet and, not wanting to upset him further, I carefully shifted the subject. “So this expert, this relic scholar you want me to meet, does he have theories about the creation of magic?”

But Álvar’s gaze was still distant. “He does.” Then he turned to me. “Have you read anything about the alchemists, Maggie?”

“A little.” I strained to remember. “They believed they could extract the magic from relics, right? And make that magic part of themselves?”

“Yes. Imagine, to no longer need an amulet or ring or weapon. To have the magic within your very being.” He looked back down at the vial and tenderly stroked the glass. “To become a living relic.”

I frowned. “But alchemy is just a myth. No one’s ever actually been able to internalize magic.”

“Only because mankind still does not understand enough about it. Some believe that if we only understood the origins of how magic came to the earth and why it left, we would be able to truly harness it at last.”

“Do you believe that, Álvar?”

His eyes snapped to me. “I never said that I did.”

With startling speed, he set the relic back in its box, snapped the lid down, and placed the box on the shelf.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Álvar react oddly to an offhand remark. Every once in a while, a strange, sudden mood seemed to take hold of him. A gleam in his eye. An obsession. He used his charm and charisma to mask these moods, but I noticed nonetheless.

The next morning, the Haciendellas were buzzing with plans for a grand play they intended to give that night—a tableau, as they called it. It would be a performance that, with dancing and song, would tell the story of the first magical creatures. Somehow, in spite of my firm protestations otherwise, they roped me into playing a small role.

“We need a full group of sea sirens to accompany the First Mermaid,” one of the Haciendellas explained to me, as if I were being silly not to understand. Outnumbered, outranked, and outsmarted, I yielded, and evening found me preparing for the tableau. A makeshift stage had been built of red velvet cloth, forming a kind of open-faced tent in the center of the inner courtyard. Servants rushed to bring in chairs for the audience and light the lanterns that would illuminate our performance. Maids rushed to and fro, carrying armfuls of shimmering muslin to create seafoam, or large potted trees for the First Unicorn’s forest. I felt bad watching them work so hard for something that was little more than the idle whim of the Haciendellas.

I sat on a stool in the curtained backstage, getting the finishing touches on my costume. Esperanza powdered my face as pale as she could make it with a large pink puff. My costume, if you could call it that, consisted of a sleeveless white undershift, wrapped with pale blue organza that twinkled in the light.

As I sat still for my maid to fix a few glittering silver starfish into my loose hair, Granada stalked up. She looked dramatic in a long red gown and robe to match her ruby lips. Black paper wings draped in red tulle had been fixed on her back. Her raven hair was twisted up in an elaborate style, interwoven with shimmering red ribbons. Even as a dragon, she managed to appear effortlessly beautiful.

She examined me for a moment, then shot a pointed look at Esperanza. “Leave us.”

Esperanza obeyed immediately. I tightened a little in my seat. “Hello.”

Granada strolled over and picked up one of the starfish Esperanza had left behind. “So,” she said, circling around me to place it in my hair, “I understand you have been spending some time with Señor Castilla.”

“Yes. He’s helping me, training—”

“You must feel rather pleased with yourself.” She tugged a pinch of my hair and started to tie the starfish to it. “You think that because you have caught his eye for a fleeting moment that you can crawl your way to the top. You think you can bring yourself out of the pathetic station you were born to.”

I tried to turn to face her. “I don’t think that at all—”

She jerked my head forward and continued to tangle the starfish in my hair with increasing intensity. “He is not himself lately, that is all. He has been thinking strangely, saying strange things. The fact that he speaks of you so much is of no consequence.”

“Granada, please.”

She gripped my shoulders and spun me around to face her. To my shock, I saw the gleam of tears in her eyes, though her expression was still one of hard disdain.

“He will forget about you in a moment,” she said, her breath short with anger. “You mean nothing to him.”

She started to back away, but I grabbed her hand, stopping her. “I don’t
want
to mean anything to him,” I said earnestly. “And I don’t think I do. His interest in me is nothing more than a mutual appreciation of studying relics.”

Granada pulled her hand free. Tear still shone in her eyes, but the hardness in her expression softened slightly.

At that moment, Isabel, the Haciendella who would narrate the tableau, swept up, looking rather frazzled. “Sea sirens need to be in place right now. Hurry,
niña
!”

I jumped up from my seat and rushed toward the stage. I could feel Granada’s eyes burning into my back as I went, her words echoing in my ears. But she had to be wrong. She was simply jealous of the time I was spending with Álvar.

At that moment, a herald of violins struck the air. I’d save my worry for later. At the moment, I had to focus, lest I make an absolute fool of myself.

A pretty Haciendella named Olinda, glittering in a silver-and-green fish tail, pranced out as the First Mermaid. The chime of a harp heralded her arrival from the blue silk waves, which servants holding the ends offstage fluttered gently. Olinda moved with the grace of a dancer, spinning once, her arms in a smooth arc over her head. The sea sirens followed close behind, walking in step with the music and tossing handfuls of shimmering powder out into the rapt audience.

We posed in a half circle around Olinda as the other First Creatures made their entrances. When we were all displayed, the “humans” came out and fell before our feet. The First Creatures lifted the humans up, one by one, and then danced around them to their delight. Then came the big dance number of the tableau where all of the First Creatures and their accompanying entourage performed displays of magic for the humans, earning their worship and love.

But then, with a dramatic crash of cymbals, a troupe of male dancers in all black leapt out from behind the curtain. They represented the greedy humans who hungered for powers of their own, who longed to steal them from the First Creatures and become magical themselves. The crowd booed appropriately. I, however, was relieved, because it meant the sea sirens could “flee” offstage. My part in the performance was thankfully over, and I could take a much more comfortable place beside Ella in the audience.

In true Hacienda fashion, there was a party to celebrate our little performance. A small, informal affair in the sitting room, more an excuse to drink and dance than anything else. The wine flowed freely, and soon that room looked an awful lot like The Desert Rose, with drunken men and women eager to take advantage of the moment.

Most of the Haciendellas had paired off with a noble, sitting in their laps and giggling or talking. Isabel leaned on the piano while an older gentleman played, singing sad, beautiful songs from Spain.

I tried to leave the party early, but the Haciendellas insisted I stay. And the only thing that surprised me more than them wanting me around was how pleased I felt to be included. They’d ignored me for the most part since I’d come to the Hacienda. I suppose my participation in the tableau had been a turning point.

The party wore on, and I became swept up in the singing and dancing and general merriment. Before I knew it, dawn approached. Mama would have taken a switch to my back if I’d tried to sneak home at this hour. Feeling groggy and properly shamed, I forced myself to head back to my quarters.

The network of rooms proved more maze-like than I remembered. Maybe I was too tired. Opening doors and looking for a familiar hallway, I slipped inside one room to find a small, dark office. Standing in the doorway, I saw a beam of light spread across the room, exposing a couple locked in a passionate embrace. The man sat on the writing desk, and the woman straddled him. Her skirt was pulled up completely, and the man’s hands gripped her bare thighs. She clawed at the back of his neck, her fingers twined in his dark hair.