Later, when the sun had started to descend toward the ocean, I saw John and Tío Ramiro leave the castle. I knew that once I would have given anything to go with them, but I could not find my wish anymore. Somehow I was scared of my wishes. I had wished to go to my uncle’s world and had brought war into my own. I had wished to date John, and I had almost gotten him killed. I had wished to be a warrior, and now I could not get rid of all the blood I had seen.
So this is what it means to grow up, I thought as they disappeared in the distance—to stop wishing. Without regret, I left my old hideout on the ramparts and went inside to my new life.
For many days after my arrival in the castle, I waited in hope and fear for a messenger to bring news from Don Julián. But my waiting was in vain. Desperate to hear from him, I repeatedly asked Mother to send a courier to Alvar. Mother refused. “Don Andrés would become suspicious if we do, Princess Andrea,” she explained. “If Don Julián is alive, he will escort Don Alfonso when he comes to be engaged to Princess Margarida in the fall. Until then, we can only wait.”
Mother was right. As far as Father was concerned, Don Julián’s well-being was of no importance now that he was not the king. Reluctantly I complied with her request and stopped asking. But no reasoning could stop my grieving.
In the meantime, Father had announced that Sabela was to be his heiress, and we had celebrated extensively her engagement to Don García. That is, all except my sister Rosa, who, defying my predictions, was still at the convent.
True to my word, I submitted to my new role in the family. With Rosa gone and Sabela by Father’s side almost every day learning the intricacies of the affairs of the kingdom, I did not have time to be idle. My desire for adventure gone, I did not mind, but actually welcomed my palace obligations. Even my visits to Flecha dwindled. For the time being, I just wanted to be left alone. And to forget.
But my nightmares did not go away. I knew guilt at my failure to keep Don Julián safe was causing them, and that only seeing him again would make them disappear. So I watched in earnest as the flowers turned to fruit in the trees and the leaves lost their green, until finally the day arrived when Don Alfonso entered the Great Hall to claim his bride.
Finding it difficult to stay still, I searched for Don Julián among the king’s retinue. But my hope soon turned to despair when, after examining the knights one by one, I had to admit to myself that Don Julián was not among them. Suddenly the immense hall full of people seemed as empty as a field of snow, and my heart, once warm with hope, froze inside me.
27
The Wall Shatters
As if trapped in a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake up, I endured the engagement ceremony, grateful to my body for remembering what to do, because my mind had forgotten what to command.
During the course of the morning, I was close to Don Alfonso on several occasions, but the rigidity of the palace protocol had prevented me from talking to him. It was not until late in the afternoon, after the ball had already started, that I managed to maneuver my way through the line of dancers and at last found myself in front of him.
Don Alfonso, looking straight into my eyes, acknowledged my presence with a polite, “Princess Andrea.” Then, as the dance started, he bowed to me.
“Where is Don Julián?” I asked him as I curtsied back. “Is he all right?”
Don Alfonso smiled. “Why do you want to know, Princess? Your plan has obviously worked. You don’t need him anymore.”
Afraid that soon the steps of the dance would take Don Alfonso away from me, I swallowed my pride and whispered, “Please, Sire.”
Don Alfonso’s smile widened. “Yes, Princess. He’s all right. But why do you ask? Are you in love with my brother?”
Without losing his smile, Don Alfonso raised his right hand and swiftly blocked the fist I had aimed at his jaw. Still holding my hand in a tight grip, he swirled me under his arm in perfect synchronization with the other couples. Then just before we parted, he pushed a folded paper up my right sleeve, and with a nod, stepped over to his next partner.
It was hot in the room, and the noise like a wave made of music—of the rhythmic tapping of feet and the humming of human voices—crashed inside my head, making me dizzy. Mumbling an excuse to the red blur who had taken Don Alfonso’s place, I stumbled away and out of the room.
When I returned to my senses, I was standing by the oak tree, my friendly childhood companion to my stolen glimpses over the adult world. But for my heavy panting, I had no recollection of having run to the garden.
My feet ankle-deep in fallen leaves, I leaned against the old trunk and, taking deep breaths into my starved lungs, recalled Don Alfonso’s words. “Yes, Princess, he’s all right.”
I could feel my body shaking as relief poured into the empty place inside me where sorrow used to be. I closed my eyes. But his voice, his deep authoritarian voice, called me back. “Good evening, Princess.”
I opened my eyes and saw the dark figure of a man against the dappled blanket of russet leaves. Don Julián. Don Julián looking at me with his insolent eyes, as if he had never left.
My body tight like a bow under an archer’s hand, I jumped. Don Julián stared at me. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Princess.”
“You didn’t, Sir.”
Don Julián smiled. “So I see.” Bowing slightly, he took my hand to his lips. Then again he looked at me, his dark deep eyes probing mine.
I retrieved my hand his fingers were burning and moved back. “Is anything wrong, Sir?”
For an instant longer, Don Julián looked at me in that curious way that made me shiver. Then, as if a door had closed in his mind, his eyes went blank.
“As you know, Princess, tonight I will follow Lua into the New World,” he said. His voice had lost its warmth. “Before I leave, I want to thank you again for everything you did for me when I was . . . wounded.” He paused then and searched my face, eagerly, almost desperately as if waiting for me to speak. But at the thought of him leaving, something inside me was breaking again, and I could not think of anything to say.
Don Julián looked away, and after taking off the watch I had given to him so long ago on the river, he handed it to me. “I will not be needing your time reader anymore, Princess.” He turned to go.
“Wait, Sir, I . . .”
“Yes, Princess?”
Don’t go, Sir. Please don’t go, I wanted to say. But I did not know what to say to keep him from leaving. “Why didn’t you come to the ceremony?” I said instead, not because I cared, but because it was the first thing that crossed my mind.
Don Julián eyed me sternly, and for a moment I thought he was not going to answer. “I didn’t think we were ready to celebrate together, Don Andrés and I,” he finally said. “Not yet anyway. Men have died on both sides. Somebody must be blamed. So they blame it on me because I was the one who started the war.”
“Don Alfonso, on the other hand,” I said, remembering Ama Bernarda’s stories, “is being sung as a hero.”
Don Julián smiled, a brief smile that did not touch his eyes. “You are right, Princess. My brother has always been the lucky one.”
He had said that before, I knew. But when? Suddenly I remembered. “I hope my brother knows how lucky he is,” he had said to my sister Margarida when they had parted in the garden. And the doubt returned. Was Don Julián in love with Margarida as I had suspected then? Not sure whether I could handle the truth, I changed the subject. “But you got your wish, Sir. You are going to the New World.”
Don Julián smiled again, his mirthless smile. “Yes, Princess. I got my wish. And tonight I would rather . . . I would give anything to be my brother.”