Relic

by Renee Collins

  Chapter Fourteen

  A small hand on my cheek awoke me. My eyes shot open with a start, then immediately fell on Ella’s face. Her large brown eyes watched me. She looked pale, but the pained grimace was gone.

  “Maggie?” she whispered. “Where are we?”

  I sat up, my heart bursting to see her well again. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” She looked around the room with an awed grin. “Do we get to stay here for a while? I hope so.”

  A soft knock came at the door. “Breakfast, miss,” the voice behind it said.

  I suddenly felt a little sheepish. I didn’t belong here, in this elegant white nightgown, sleeping in this fine room, and now they were bringing me breakfast in bed. The servant didn’t wait for my reply, which was good, since I probably would have politely refused. She carried in a silver tray with two lidded plates, tea service, and a twist of blue and yellow flowers. The sharp floral fragrance drifted over the savory smells of breakfast.

  Ella eagerly grabbed for her plates, lifting the lid with a gush of bacon-scented steam. I picked the intricate bunch of flowers from the tray. The petals shimmered like gems and danced, as if on a breeze of their own making. They had to have been created by relic magic. My mind went to Álvar’s dryad ring. Had he made this with his own hand?

  The servant girl gave me a single swift glance, then dropped her gaze. “Can I get you anything else, miss?”

  I put the flowers down. “No. Thank you, though. My sister and I will be leaving as soon as we dress.”

  The girl slipped a crisp white envelope from her front apron pocket. “From Señor Castilla, miss.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, miss.” The servant girl curtsied. “Good day, miss.”

  “Good day.”

  I turned the envelope over. Ella gave me a look, her mouth full of eggs and buttered bread.

  “Well, aren’t you gonna open it?”

  A quick slip of my breakfast knife along the rim, and the envelope flapped open. The paper inside felt expensive. The ink had a slight sheen of gold. I didn’t breathe as I read the elegantly written words.

  Miss Davis,

  I still feel deeply ashamed of the way you were treated last night on my own estate. While helping your young sister pleased me greatly, I wish to offer more. Please accept my invitation to stay here in my family’s home until you and your sister are fully rested and recovered.

  Also, I would like to beg the pleasure of your company at a little soiree I’m having here tonight with some of my close friends. You have been through a great ordeal, and you deserve some enjoyment.

  With warmest regards,

  Álvar

  I read the letter three more times. Me? Invited to some party with these rich Hacienda folk? I was as likely to fit in there as a cow in the sheep herd. Why would Álvar even ask me? Besides, after everything that had happened, it didn’t feel right to go dance the night away.

  Another fist rapped against the door, and again, a strange woman entered without waiting for a response. She was a plump and sharp-looking Haciendella with raven hair pulled in a tight bun.

  “I’m Flora,” she said, her skirt swishing as she swept into the room. “I’m here to measure you for your gown.”

  I blinked. “My gown?”

  “For tonight. Señor has requested one be made specially for you.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. I felt Ella looking at me, and I pressed my hand harder over Álvar’s letter.

  “I don’t think I’ll be attending, ma’am. You see, my sister and I have been through a lot. I think we should be leaving as soon as—”

  “Señor Castilla desires your presence at the party tonight.”

  “And I appreciate that, but I need to take care of my family first, and—”

  “One would think a girl of your station would not only accept such an invitation, but would be deeply honored as well.”

  A snap of anger flared within me. “A girl of my station?”

  “Come, come, I don’t have all day. And I must say,” Flora said, her eyes flickering with disapproval, “I am shocked you are being so fussy. After the service señor rendered to you last night?”

  “I am very grateful to him, ma’am. And I plan to repay him with every penny I earn—”

  “Señor Castilla does not need your money, you stupid girl. For whatever reason, which I am sure is lost on me, he wishes for you to be among his many fine and important guests tonight. If you are truly grateful, you would not even think of insulting him with a refusal.”

  My face burned to my ears. I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t understand why he wished me there, either, but I certainly didn’t want to insult him. Not when I owed him so very much.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my gaze. “I didn’t think of it that way. Please tell Señor Castilla that I will attend tonight.”

  “I don’t need to tell him—he never assumed anything less. That’s the way these great men are, miss, and you’d do well to remember that. Now stand up and let me get your measurements.”

  Shortly after we’d finished our breakfast, two nurses came in to tend to Ella, while Flora and her crew whisked me off. I would have refused to part with her, but they brought a small, happy gaggle of Hacienda children with them, and Ella’s face lit up so brightly at the sight of other kids her age that my heart nearly broke. She turned a pleading look on me, and I couldn’t deny her a day in their laughing, easy company. It would be so much more pleasant than the nuns at St. Ignacio’s could offer, generous as they were.

  As soon as they’d gone, a team of female Hacienda servants swept in. They eyed me grimly and discussed what a task they had on their hands right in front of me. The grooming regimen lasted several hours and included a long soak in a rosewater bath, where my hair and body were scrubbed clean. They dried me, lathered me in perfumed powders and oils, and then brushed my dark hair by an open fire until it shone like ink. Not at all accustomed to such luxury and relaxation, I dozed off more than once, awakening as the maids giggled into their hands.

  In the late afternoon, Flora returned with my gown. When I laid eyes on it, I drew in an involuntary gasp. Flowing chiffon of silver, white, and gold glittered to the floor like a cloud. And behind the corseted top, attached to the thin sleeves, two ruffles of luxurious taffeta—the faintest suggestion of fairy wings.

  It was the height of fashion to wear a gown designed to emulate the ancient fantasy creatures; all the women in Paris and New York City owned one. Mama said it was for vain, upper-crust types who wanted to fancy themselves a walking relic. I stroked the shimmering fabric. I’d never so much as come near a dress that grand, let alone put one on. It was a gown for a woman—a fine, wealthy woman. It didn’t belong on a no-account girl like me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said in a hushed voice.

  Flora shrugged as if she didn’t care, but I saw a glint of pride in her eyes. “Señor requested the design.” She laid the dress on the bed and stood back to examine me. “You’ll need proper petticoats. And a corset is a must.”

  When I looked hesitant, Flora snorted.

  “I don’t suppose a girl of your station has ever worn one before, but no matter. We’ll get some curves out of you tonight.”

  By dark, they had squeezed me into the corset, poked and prodded and pulled at my hair, powdered my face, rouged my lips and cheeks, and generally fussed over me. I tried to relish the moment, seeing as how such pampering would likely never happen to me again, but a distressing image had begun to gnaw a hole in me—the picture of myself tromping into that Grand Ballroom. What would I say? Where would I stand? How on earth was I going to avoid looking like the biggest bumpkin ever to step foot through the Hacienda’s gates?

  But then Flora marched me over to the tall oval mirror that stood in the corner of the room. I hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of myself all day. I wasn’t prepared to see the young woman peering back a
t me in the glass.

  The dress really did the magic—I almost wondered if there were some kind of actual relic sewn into the fabric. It shone slightly in the golden lamplight and hugged the new hourglass curves of my body. The little lace sleeves hung down, leaving my shoulders bare, and the neckline scooped elegantly to reveal more bosom than I ever imagined I’d show. And yet, with the perfume and delicate jewel choker around my throat, I didn’t mind.

  My hair had been pulled up into an elegant curled style, though a few strategic tendrils hung down around my neck. Three pins of white crystal were tucked into my piled hair, bringing a flash of shimmer and beauty. With white gloves to complete the look, I could almost imagine myself as an ethereal fairy, soaring on the wind. I stared at my reflection with hushed amazement. This wasn’t me. This couldn’t be me.

  “You clean up well,” Flora said, scrutinizing me with folded arms. “Almost like a Haciendella. I think señor will be pleased.”

  The mention of Álvar pulled me away from the fantasy of fancy dresses and brought me back to reality. “Oh, Miss Flora,” I said, turning away from the mirror, “I do love the dress, I really do. And you all worked so hard to make me look pretty. But I don’t see how I won’t make a darn fool of myself tonight. I don’t know anything about this sort of party! Or these people.”

  Flora smiled a little and patted my cheek once. “There, there. It is simple. Just be charming and sparkling and witty, and you will come out fine.”

  “Should be a simple task for a girl of my station.”

  Flora raised an eyebrow at my retort, but at that moment, a male servant dressed in finery stepped through the door.

  “I am to take Miss Davis down to the ballroom now.”

  I was sure the color drained right from my face. Flora smirked. “Have a wonderful time.”

  The servant motioned to the hallway, and I suddenly reckoned I knew just how the lamb felt as she was being led to the slaughter.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The music from the Grand Ballroom wafted through the hallway like perfume, mingled with muffled laughter and conversation. It sounded like there were a great deal of people at the party, which was good. The bigger the crowd, the more easily I could sink into the background unnoticed.

  I caught my servant escort giving me a sidelong glance, and he snapped his gaze away. With every step, the magic of that moment in front of the mirror dissolved, leaving me to see exactly what I’d gotten myself into. I’d been primped and painted and dolled up like a fine horse on display. The dress was far too gaudy and far too revealing. Mama would have taken a lash to my behind if she’d ever seen me showing so much skin. I had half a mind to march right back to that room and take it all off when the servant paused before two enormous, elaborate double doors.

  “Right in here, miss.”

  The doors swung open, and I was powerless to stop them. All at once, a flash of color and a swirl of music and voices gushed against me like a blast of wind.

  The Grand Ballroom.

  Grand, indeed. I’d never seen a finer room. It was round and two stories high, with coral-colored marble columns rising from various points, each one carved in the massive, breathtaking form of an ancient creature. Here a dragon with stone wings folded high. There a watery siren with arms stretched as if holding up the ceiling. And of course, a unicorn eternally rearing up on his massive hind legs.

  A mezzanine ran around the expanse of the entire room, where guests mingled and danced. The walls around the outside of the room weren’t actually walls but enormous windows that displayed a star-glittered sky. Rich red silk draped over everything, and elegant greenery bloomed from marble vases. There were tables upon tables of fine food and benches where ladies sat in conversation, cooling themselves with elaborate lace fans that probably cost more than I made in a month. The orchestra sat near the back, playing an airy Spanish tune. And in the center of the room, elegant men and women dressed in splashes of color and finery danced together.

  For a moment, my feet were nailed to the marble floor. I could have watched from right there all night, but the servant cleared his throat and motioned me in with a white-gloved hand. “Señorita?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” I stepped in. My heart was pounding hard against my chest, no doubt accentuated because that awful corset pressed it down. I darted my eyes around me as I walked, not knowing where to go or what I was supposed to do.

  Then I spotted Álvar, surrounded by a crowd of people. He looked dashing and elegant, as always. He wasn’t wearing his usual Spanish regalia—a high-collared red coat with gold-rope trim—but instead a pair of sleek black pants and a coat with tails, a white shirt, and a crisp white tie. The people around him, beautiful Haciendellas and handsome young Haciendos, laughed easily at his words and sipped champagne from fluted crystal glasses, already tipsy. There were many older, distinguished Haciendo folk there, but I could see at once that the young would set the tone for the evening.

  I admired the glamorous, exciting company around Álvar. The Haciendellas wore gowns that were even more beautiful and lavish than mine with an air that anything less wouldn’t be worthy of them. Their raven hair and sparkling brown eyes set off the lovely olive tone of their skin. I had heard of the beauty of the Hacienda’s women before, but they so rarely ventured into Burning Mesa that I had never seen one.

  Álvar stroked the bejeweled throat of one particularly beautiful Haciendella, whispering in her ear. His wealthy fiancée, perhaps? But even as I wondered this, another of the young Haciendellas flung herself at his side with a laugh. He hooked his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. No one seemed ruffled by his casual promiscuity.

  I was about to stop gawking when Álvar looked up, and his eyes connected with mine. He appraised me, a smile spreading over his face, then lifted his champagne glass in a little toast. I supposed the dress pleased him. I smiled and gave an awkward curtsy. Álvar clearly knew how to throw a girl off sorts.

  At that moment, a spindly man in all white stepped onto the center of the dance floor. “Choose your partners for the vals vuelo de España!” he announced.

  The audience cheered. I didn’t know what the vals vuelo de España was, but my two left feet weren’t about to find out. As I made my way to the sidelines, however, a bearded Haciendo with streaks of silver in his black hair stepped into my path.

  “I do not believe we have met, señorita.” He bowed low gallantly. “I am Señor Ernaldo Vasquez.”

  “Maggie Davis,” I said, dipping in another curtsy and wishing dearly I’d had more training in ladylike conduct.

  “Encantado,” Señor Vasquez said, kissing my hand once.

  “Thank you.”

  “Miss Davis, would you do me the honor of dancing the vals vuelo?”

  Darn it if I couldn’t feel my face turning red yet again. “Thank you, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Well, for starters, I don’t know this dance at all, but also—”

  “There is nothing to it,” he said, grinning. “I shall do all the leading. Besides, you are dressed for the part.”

  “Sir, I—”

  But he was already walking me into the center of the room. I remembered what Flora the dressmaker said about “great men” and realized I didn’t have much of a choice.

  I felt people watching as we stepped into place among the other dancers. Probably wondering who on earth I was and what I was doing at such a swanky Hacienda affair. Álvar swept a gorgeous Haciendella in a red-and-black dragon gown to the center of the floor. Just walking they looked graceful. These were the kind of people who should be dancing some fancy Spanish dance, not me.

  Señor Vasquez gave me an amused smile, and I knew I was wearing my discomfort on my face. “Relax, señorita,” he said. “It is quite enjoyable.”

  “We’ll see if you still say that after I’ve stepped on your feet half a dozen times.”

  Señor Vasquez laughed heartily. “You have indeed ne
ver danced this before. Trust me when I say stepping on my feet shall not be a problem.”

  Before I could ask what he meant, the violins struck a fierce chord. A line of suited servants glided out with trays held at eye level. The audience, apparently knowing what to expect, applauded with delight. For some reason, this made me very uneasy.

  A servant stopped before each couple on the dance floor and lowered his tray. On each one sat a small glass case filled with shimmering rainbow-hued powder.

  “¿Con permiso?” the servant before us asked, bowing low.

  I shot an uncertain look at Señor Vasquez, and he nodded with a smile.

  The servant opened the case and, with a gloved hand, grabbed a pinch of the shimmering powder. Before I could blink, the dust was a puff in the air around Señor Vasquez and me. My arms and dress and hair twinkled like sunlight on the surface of a lake. A light, flickering sensation blew through my insides. All at once, my surroundings seemed sharper, more clearly drawn, as if every detail in the room tingled through me.

  It was sky magic.

  A faint chime rang in my ears, something both musical and almost human. Like singing and wind and sunshine.

  “What is this?” I whispered to Señor Vasquez, not sure whether I was excited or terrified.

  “Fairy relic powder. Very rare. Very expensive.”

  Now I could see why he said I was dressed for the part. I twisted my shimmering hand in front of me. “What will it do?”

  A second herald of the violins drowned out my question. The dance had begun.

  Señor Vasquez winked once, and suddenly, I felt my feet lifting from the floor.

  Exhilaration. Terror. Disbelief. My body shifted through the emotions with rapid speed as Señor Vasquez gently pulled us higher into the air along with the other couples. I clung to his hands, white-knuckled, sure my life depended on it.

  He laughed at my expression. “Do not worry, señorita. You will not fall.”

  Below us, the applauding guests blurred and doubled in my eyes. My feet dangled in the air, and I felt as if I weighed no more than a snowflake. I let out a shaky breath. “I’m trusting you, sir.”