Awhile later, my hair has dried in waves down to my waist, and I am dressed in a clean linen tunic belted over soft leather pants when the rest of our group files quietly into my suite. Two guards will remain outside to watch the door, but everyone else squeezes inside and finds a spot on the rugs or the beds to sit.
Hector is the last to arrive, and when he sees me, he freezes, then moves quickly to an empty space at the foot of decoy Elisa’s bed, where he plunks down and stretches out his long legs.
Mara leans over and whispers in my ear, “I know you’re charmingly naive when it comes to matters of the heart, but you just stopped him in his tracks.”
I bring my knees to my chest, reach down to finger the hem of my pants. I whisper back, “I was about to tell myself I had imagined it.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
Tristán moves to the center of the room to address everyone. “We’re scheduled to be in town for two days,” he says. “I’ll meet officially with Puerto Verde’s mayor tomorrow. The dowager queen, Rosario’s grandmother, is also in residence here, on an estate in the hills, but reportedly in failing health and unable to offer us hospitality. I’ll make an attempt to see her, for appearances’ sake. Her Majesty Queen Elisa has unfortunately taken ill from a bad batch of oysters and will be unable to make any appointments.”
Everyone titters with amusement.
“But we need to be prepared for contingencies, which means lengthening our stay, or even cutting it short. I expect everyone to be alert at all times for changes in plan. Understood?”
I find myself nodding along with everyone else. Tristán has such a nice presence about him. Commanding, intelligent, worthy of my trust.
“Hector?” Tristán cedes the floor to the commander of my guard and sits down beside Iladro, who gazes at him with unabashed admiration. Now that I know they’re lovers, it’s so painfully obvious to me that I wonder how I didn’t notice before.
Hector stands, saying, “I’ve confirmed that a ship is scheduled to dock here this week. It could be tomorrow or a week from now, depending on weather. The ship is well known to me, and I trust its captain and crew to protect the queen with their lives. So I suggest we wait for it before splitting off. Alternately, we could hire a different ship, or even a caravan.”
As one, everyone turns to me for the ultimate decision. I say, “Belén, can you scout again tonight? I’d like to know if our new friends have followed us into the city and whether they take lodgings nearby.”
“I can,” he says.
“Then we will wait for Hector’s ship, unless Franco makes a move.”
“Or if he disappears entirely,” Hector adds.
I nod. “If he is able to slip Belén’s careful eye, I will consider that making a move.”
“My offer to kill him stands,” Belén says. “Just say the word.”
“Thank you,” I say, and it gives me a strange, twisty feeling to know I’m grateful for someone’s willingness to kill for me. “But focusing Conde Eduaro’s efforts in the wrong direction is too good an opportunity to pass up.”
Tristán says, “Majesty, have you decided who goes with you when we split off?”
I take a deep breath. I have been dreading this moment. “Tristán, you and Iladro will of course continue with the caravan.”
He bows his head. “Of course.”
I need people who are used to rough travel, people I trust with my life. “There will be five of us, the holy number of perfection,” I say. “Mara, you will come with me. And Belén. I confess I’m not sure what to do about you, Father Alentín. I’d like to have a priest with me as we track down the zafira. Your knowledge, your ability to sense the Godstone, could be crucial. But as Cosmé’s ambassador, your absence would be noted.”
The priest nods wearily, rubbing at his stumped shoulder as if aching with phantom pain. “I want to help you find the zafira more than anything,” he says. “But I’m an old man now. And Her Majesty Queen Cosmé will be disappointed if I do not travel in state with false you and your soon-to-be betrothed. My ultimate loyalty must be to Basajuan now, you see.”
I manage a sad smile. This is it, then, for us. Truly, he will never again be my priest. “Then I insist you go with the caravan,” I tell him.
“I will pray for you every day,” he says softly.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
“What about Storm?” Ximena asks.
“His knowledge may be useful. And he’ll behave, so long as he’s on the track of the zafira. He comes with me.”