Tío didn’t answer. He stood by my side, eyes wide open and staring ahead, a light of wonder in them. I waited, silent as well, breathing deeply the salty breeze flowing up from the ocean. Suddenly the sound of an owl hooting broke the evening silence. As if waking from a dream,Tío shook his head.
“I wished,” he answered, resuming his walk, “to live in a castle where everybody would comply with my every whim.”
“You can’t be serious, Tío.” I couldn’t imagine anything more boring.
Tío laughed. “Andrea, today you are serious enough for the both of us.”
And so I returned to my parents’ castle, not as a knight covered in glory, galloping in front of an army as I had imagined, but escorted by my uncle, wearing his jacket over my torn dress and, alas, on foot.
I do not know what Tío Ramiro told my parents, but whatever it was, it worked. They never asked me about that evening, and Mother agreed to let me be on my own during the time Tío remained with us. On my part, I didn’t tell anybody, not even Margarida, what had happened. My sister, discreet as usual, didn’t ask.
Although I missed my comrades and the excitement of the training, I tried to make the best of my last days of freedom. And after Flecha reappeared, dirty and wild at the gate of the castle on the second day after my return, I rode often across the plain toward Mount Pindo, the sacred mountains of the Xarens, the old inhabitants of the kingdom. At other times, I would walk by myself deep into the woods, listening to the season of plenty burst upon the branches of the trees and watching the animals wander. They were collecting food to survive the winter. I felt I was also saving for harder times, although in my case it was not because of a physical hunger that I worried, but because of a longing inside me I could not name.
My uncle was busy with the kingdom’s affairs. For as long as I could remember, he had been the arbiter of the complaints arising between the farmers and hunters and their lords. He was renowned for his unusual solutions, and everybody accepted his judgment.
When he managed to escape his duties, we would go for long walks. Then he would tell me fantastic stories of enchanted lands where girls were allowed to dress as they pleased and choose their own destinies. He had a great imagination and his stories sounded so real—sometimes more so than the trees in the orchard or the walls around my father’s castle.
Four weeks passed like this, and finally the morning arrived when Tío told me he was leaving. I looked away to hide my disappointment.
“Come now, Andrea. Don’t make it more difficult. You already knew I’d be leaving tonight.”
“True,” I replied. I had known all right. But knowing did not mean I had accepted it.
“You must keep up your part of the deal now. Promise you will join your mother tomorrow.”
I nodded.
Tío grabbed my arms, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Also, Andrea, you must promise that you will never go down to the beach with the broken arch, the beach your people call Cala dos Mortos, ‘The Cove of the Dead.’”
I pushed him away. “Why can’t I go there?”
“Because it’s forbidden. Believe me, Andrea, some things are better left alone.”
I promised as he asked, thinking it was strange that my rational uncle would care about old superstitions. And his request had seemed irrational that morning in the bright sunlight. But later in the evening, while I watched him leave from my favorite place on the castle ramparts, and I could see the shadows crawling from behind every tree and every rock, I was not so sure anymore. It did seem possible then that something dark and evil might indeed be lurking down on the beach, by the arch not even the ocean had dared to destroy. And although the days were still warm, I wrapped my cape around me because suddenly I felt cold inside.
3
Among Ladies
The animal faces carved on the wooden door stared at me with malicious eyes, their mouths wide open in soundless laughter.
“Come on, they’re not real,” I said to myself, and taking a deep breath, I grabbed the knob. It felt as cold as water from a mountain stream against my sweaty palm. For a moment, I hesitated. It was a moment too long. The attack came from behind in the innocent form of a greeting.
“Good morning, dear sister!”
I dropped my hand and turned. An impeccably dressed young lady had materialized in the corridor, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in her gauzy pink gown. My sister Rosa, picture perfect as usual, was smiling at me. “I see you have forgotten your arrows,” she said, her pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “But don’t you worry, dear Andrea. You will find no foes among us gentle ladies.”
Just what I need, I thought in dismay, my conniving, torturing sister making fun of me. As retreat was not an option, I clenched my fists and braced myself for the attack.
“Good morning, my precious older sister,” I told her with my sweetest smile. “Such a pleasure to see you. But what are you doing all by yourself? How inconsiderate of your present admirer—sorry, I don’t remember his name. You replace them so often, I just cannot keep up with them. As I was saying, how could he be so careless as to leave you unattended? Doesn’t he fear a more attentive suitor could steal his prize?”
Rosa’s cheeks turned red, and the smile froze on her face. Without a word, she collected her train and pushed her way past me into Mother’s chamber. I sighed with relief. My sister Rosa, as mean and treacherous as a snake, had retreated.
“You shouldn’t have said that, Andrea. You know she is not going to forget.”
I looked back. My sister Margarida was coming down the corridor. “I went to your room, but you had already left,” she said after I had greeted her. Then placing her arm around mine, she continued, “I thought you would like some company when entering the wolf’s den.”
“Thank you, Margarida.” Her smile was so contagious, soon I was smiling back, silly Rosa and her ruses forgotten.
With renewed enthusiasm, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I had always found the magnificent amplitude of the East Room intimidating. Now, in the early morning, with the sun’s rays shining through the diamond-paneled windows on the far wall, the impression of unreality was so strong, I gasped.
“What is it?” Margarida whispered. “Mother will not eat you, I promise.”
I blinked repeatedly so my eyes would adapt to the light and looked again. Mother was sitting on the dais along the farthest wall, talking with some ladies. I could make out the pinkish shape of my sister Rosa standing behind her chair. Happy indeed to have Margarida by my side, I stepped into the room.
Although Mother never looked at us, she must have noted our arrival because almost immediately she dismissed her company. Eager to show my good manners, I curtsied to the ladies as they passed by. The ladies stopped, glanced awkwardly at me, and curtsied back. They didn’t seem pleased. Neither did Mother, I noticed, when I looked up at her. For a moment she stared sternly at me. Then she smiled and, lifting her hand, summoned me forward.
“Princess Andrea,” she said as I raised myself from my curtsy. “You come to me today to begin your training for ladyship, and I welcome you with pleasure. And yet it is not for me to teach you what you already know.”
I frowned.
“I can do no more than help to bring forward what is already in you. As I have done with your sisters.”
As she talked, she turned to look at my sisters. Her hands tightened around the arms of her chair. “Where is Princess Sabela?” she asked, her voice as cold as winter snow.
Nobody answered.
“She has been late for several days now. I would like to know why.”
From behind Mother’s chair, my sister Rosa chuckled. Margarida moved closer to her, grabbing her arm. But Rosa shook herself free and, pushing Margarida aside, faced Mother. “Princess Sabela is probably talking to Captain García,” she said and giggled. “They are engaged.”