FILLED the air with the scent of jasmine, and the cool summer breeze carried with it the faint chirping of cicadas.
Taking my usual seat on the front porch, I topped up my glass of white wine, the fermented grapes cultivated on this very land.
The sunset flooded the landscape.
The years had unfolded, seamlessly shifting from one glorious month to another. The relief from suffering sustained during my former years bestowed a visceral gratitude not easily forgotten, as it seeped into the present.
But as I glanced up at the horizon, I was gripped with a wave of terror that the peace I’d come to cherish was about to end.
Salvador’s father galloped toward the estate. I put down my drink and leaped to my feet.
Señor Moran dismounted. “He has them.” His color was ashen.
“Dear God.” My voice broke.
“I don’t know how he found them. They were in Italy.” His eyes were sick with fear. “By the time I receive an appointment with his highness, it will be too late.”
“Ready my best horse,” I shouted to the stable boys. “Now!”
Moran was shaking violently. “He accuses Alicia of witchcraft.”
No. The ground became unsteady.
Miguel quickly joined us.
“I’m going to Vigo,” I blurted, my mouth dry.
Miguel grabbed the horse’s harness from the stable boy. “Felipe?”
I nodded and quickly mounted. “Tell Annabelle . . .”
“I know.” Miguel tightened the reins. “I’ll tell her.”
Chapter 20
BLOOD STAINED MY HANDS.
My horse collapsed just outside Vigo. Unable to bear seeing him suffer any further, I unsheathed my knife and with an unsteady grip, slit his throat. After it was done, I retched on an empty stomach.
I washed off the blood in a trough outside a deserted cottage. Still trembling, I used the same knife that I’d slaughtered my horse with to shave off my stubble. Thieves were not unusual in wealthy neighborhoods and I didn’t want to be confused for one.
Staring up at the senator’s residence, exhaustion lingered beneath my terror.
Several service carts rumbled along, pulled by mules, following the road up to the great house. I ignored the first two and leaped onto the third, scrambling beneath the hessian material covering the mound of vegetables. I reached for a carrot and munched on the orange stick, despite the taste of soil. The cart rolled to a stop outside the deliveryman’s door.
With no real plan, only a sense of urgency to get my sister and Salvador out, I willed myself to find courage. I wiped the dirt from my mouth, straightened my hair, and slid out from beneath the material.
Inside the kitchen, I strolled through, looking like I belonged, nodding in greeting to servants who scurried about, busy with their chores. Carrying a tray of food, I walked through the doorway that led into the foyer.
Three guards stood talking nearby and glanced my way, but I kept going, ready to reach for my concealed knife. With a confident air that I didn’t feel, I headed for the cellars.
I’d half-listened as Ferring had explained long ago that it was typical to keep supplies in the cold vaults, and apparently it was the best place for the prisoners.
A maid believed my story that I was new, and guided me to the top of the stairwell and pointed to the basement. As I descended, the dank prison smell brought back stark memories, and I tried to push the dark nostalgia away.
Alicia lay asleep in the corner of a squalid chamber. I’d not expected to see her down here, rather Salvador incarcerated in these terrible conditions. But after checking the few cells, I only found her. I was surprised to find the door unlocked. Careful not to startle her, I knelt close.
Alicia opened her eyes and sighed when she saw me.
“I’m going to get you out,” I mouthed.
“Salvador?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen him.” I glanced out of the cell and turned back to face Alicia with a puzzled stare.
She staggered to her feet. “Felipe told me he’d kill Ricardo if I left
Taking my usual seat on the front porch, I topped up my glass of white wine, the fermented grapes cultivated on this very land.
The sunset flooded the landscape.
The years had unfolded, seamlessly shifting from one glorious month to another. The relief from suffering sustained during my former years bestowed a visceral gratitude not easily forgotten, as it seeped into the present.
But as I glanced up at the horizon, I was gripped with a wave of terror that the peace I’d come to cherish was about to end.
Salvador’s father galloped toward the estate. I put down my drink and leaped to my feet.
Señor Moran dismounted. “He has them.” His color was ashen.
“Dear God.” My voice broke.
“I don’t know how he found them. They were in Italy.” His eyes were sick with fear. “By the time I receive an appointment with his highness, it will be too late.”
“Ready my best horse,” I shouted to the stable boys. “Now!”
Moran was shaking violently. “He accuses Alicia of witchcraft.”
No. The ground became unsteady.
Miguel quickly joined us.
“I’m going to Vigo,” I blurted, my mouth dry.
Miguel grabbed the horse’s harness from the stable boy. “Felipe?”
I nodded and quickly mounted. “Tell Annabelle . . .”
“I know.” Miguel tightened the reins. “I’ll tell her.”
Chapter 20
BLOOD STAINED MY HANDS.
My horse collapsed just outside Vigo. Unable to bear seeing him suffer any further, I unsheathed my knife and with an unsteady grip, slit his throat. After it was done, I retched on an empty stomach.
I washed off the blood in a trough outside a deserted cottage. Still trembling, I used the same knife that I’d slaughtered my horse with to shave off my stubble. Thieves were not unusual in wealthy neighborhoods and I didn’t want to be confused for one.
Staring up at the senator’s residence, exhaustion lingered beneath my terror.
Several service carts rumbled along, pulled by mules, following the road up to the great house. I ignored the first two and leaped onto the third, scrambling beneath the hessian material covering the mound of vegetables. I reached for a carrot and munched on the orange stick, despite the taste of soil. The cart rolled to a stop outside the deliveryman’s door.
With no real plan, only a sense of urgency to get my sister and Salvador out, I willed myself to find courage. I wiped the dirt from my mouth, straightened my hair, and slid out from beneath the material.
Inside the kitchen, I strolled through, looking like I belonged, nodding in greeting to servants who scurried about, busy with their chores. Carrying a tray of food, I walked through the doorway that led into the foyer.
Three guards stood talking nearby and glanced my way, but I kept going, ready to reach for my concealed knife. With a confident air that I didn’t feel, I headed for the cellars.
I’d half-listened as Ferring had explained long ago that it was typical to keep supplies in the cold vaults, and apparently it was the best place for the prisoners.
A maid believed my story that I was new, and guided me to the top of the stairwell and pointed to the basement. As I descended, the dank prison smell brought back stark memories, and I tried to push the dark nostalgia away.
Alicia lay asleep in the corner of a squalid chamber. I’d not expected to see her down here, rather Salvador incarcerated in these terrible conditions. But after checking the few cells, I only found her. I was surprised to find the door unlocked. Careful not to startle her, I knelt close.
Alicia opened her eyes and sighed when she saw me.
“I’m going to get you out,” I mouthed.
“Salvador?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen him.” I glanced out of the cell and turned back to face Alicia with a puzzled stare.
She staggered to her feet. “Felipe told me he’d kill Ricardo if I left
Similar Books
