“My father?” Still half asleep, I rubbed my eyes. “But how does he know I’m here?”
“Your father is the king, Princess. He knows everything. And if I may say so, His Majesty is bound to be curious about Don Juan.”
Don Juan! John! Panic flooded my mind. The previous night I had been so worried about bringing John to the castle, I had forgotten all about my father. I knew Father would not be pleased about John’s unexpected arrival. And even though John’s coming to my world had been an accident, would Father believe me, or would he be so upset with me that he wouldn’t let me go back to California?
I jumped out of bed, and after throwing some water over my face from the jug sitting on the table, I walked back to Ama Bernarda to get dressed. Ama was shocked by my outfit—I was still wearing the jeans and sweater of the New World—and let me know so in a torrent of words.
“You are totally right, Ama,” I told her. And while she frowned, probably wondering whether I meant it or was just humoring her, I said, “Ama Bernarda, do you know whether Father was in a good mood when he asked to see me?”
Ama shook her head. “I wouldn’t think so, Princess. Since your sister’s engagement was announced, Don Andrés has been in quite a mood.”
“Why is he so angry, Ama? I mean, if Father didn’t want Rosa to marry Don Julián, why did he invite him to the ball in the first place?”
“Because he had to, Princess. By law, all the heirs of the Houses of Old must be invited. Of course nobody had ever considered the possibility that Princess Rosa would accept Don Julián. Princess Rosa knew Don Julián and your father are enemies. Maybe that’s why she did it. Your sister Rosa has a strange sense of humor.”
Sense of humor? What a curious way of explaining Rosa’s choice. Of course, I knew better. I knew Father’s hate for Don Julián had nothing to do with my sister’s decision. Hadn’t I seen Rosa falling under Don Julián’s spell while he wooed her on the balcony, her total abandon as he kissed her? And the memory brought to my mind the image of Juliet. Juliet—who by falling in love and marrying Romeo, the son of her father’s enemy, had ended up dead. I shivered. Rosa was my least favorite sister, but I didn’t want her dead.
For a little longer, Ama Bernarda fussed over me, talking incessantly about Rosa’s engagement, until finally I was ready. Transformed once more into a princess by the magic of a dress, I rushed toward my father’s quarters.
Not one but two soldiers kept guard at the doors. Crossing their spears, they saluted me. Then they moved aside, and while one of them held the door open, the other announced my name. So much for a cozy family reunion, I thought, my spirits sinking even lower.
From their thrones over the dais at the end of the room, my parents were staring at me. Their cold glares confirmed my fears: They knew about John, and he was not welcome. I stepped forward, my heart beating in my chest like a galloping horse, and knelt before them.
“Welcome back, Princess Andrea,” Mother said. With a wave of her hand, she motioned me to sit. “Your arrival, Princess,” she continued after I had done so, “has been a pleasant surprise to us. On the last full moon, we sent our word with Don Ramiro, allowing you to stay in his world for as long as you desired. We assume, then, that you have returned to stay. And we rejoice.”
“Thank you, Mother. I—”
“But you have brought with you an outsider. And that we cannot accept lightly. I do hope, Princess, that you had a good reason for doing so.”
“Mother, Father. I am most grateful for your permission to stay in Tio’s world. Permission, I hope, that still holds. Because the truth is, I didn’t want to leave California. I mean, I did miss you very much and wanted to see you, but my return has been a mistake. Yesterday John and I entered the cave below the arch to escape from a storm. As we waited for the rain to stop, the door opened and we found ourselves in the Cove of the Dead.”
Father rose from his throne. Looming over me in all his imposing majesty, he bellowed, “Do you mean to say that your friend has not been properly instructed by Don Ramiro?”
“Yes, Father. I mean, no, Father . . . Tío Ramiro doesn’t know.”
“Princess Andrea,” Father’s voice, harsh like thunder, echoed against the walls, “you give me no choice. The outsider must die.”
“No!” I jumped forward. “John doesn’t know about the door, Father. He believes he is still in his world. I will not tell him the truth, and in the next full moon, I will take him back.”
“That would not be safe,” Father said. “He would talk about us. And eventually someone would find the way here.”
“But you cannot kill him. He has done nothing wrong.”
The white scar on Father’s cheek was throbbing as his eyes flashed in anger. But before he could answer, Mother spoke. “Your Majesty,” she said. “I agree that Andrea’s friend cannot go back. If he does, he will indeed pose a danger to our world. But I think we could give him a chance, a chance to stay voluntarily.”
Father shook his head. “No,” he said. “He already knows too much.”
This could not be happening! Father had always been unreasonable and old-fashioned, but this . . . this was barbaric. Barbaric! That was the word Tío Ramiro had used to describe how my grandfather had thrown him and Mother into the dungeon upon their arrival. Tío and Mother had escaped from certain death only because Father had helped them. So Father had not been so narrow-minded then. Hadn’t he gone back to California, years later, looking for Mother?
“But Father, you upset the order of the worlds when you brought Mother here. And everything still turned out all right.”
“Enough, Princess Andrea,” Mother said. “Bringing up the past will not change the present. Besides, when I came, I did it with full knowledge of the decision and of my own will. And I never returned.”
“Not the first time. The first time, when you came with Tío, you came by chance, too. And you returned to your world.” I turned to Father. “And you helped them escape. You disobeyed your father’s orders and let them go.”
“That was different. They were only children.”
Although his voice was still angry, something had changed. He was listening now.
“It was not different. They could have talked about our world. But they didn’t. So you see, Father, you were right to let them go. You were right then, as I am now when I ask you to let John go.”
Father didn’t answer. His eyes staring blankly at me, he seemed to be lost in his memories. Finally he shook his head. “I suppose you are right, Princess Andrea. I did let them go.” Turning to Mother, he smiled. “And I have never regretted it.” Then his eyes grew cold again. “As for the outsider, Princess, we will welcome him as our guest for the time being. The rest is up to him. You will explain to him the truth about our world. If by the next full moon he agrees to stay and become one of us, he will live. If not, he will die.”
I gasped.
Father raised his hand in dismissal. “Go now and bring the outsider to us.”
Afraid my voice would break if I tried to speak, I nodded. After curtsying to him and then to Mother, I left the room.
12
Courtship
“They won’t let me out,” John snapped before I could say hello. “What do they think they’re doing?” He was referring to the two soldiers standing outside his door. “And that’s not even the worst of it. I mean, if they want to be in a play and dress like idiots, good for them. But look at me,” he added, his arms outstretched in mocking display, “Someone took my clothes and left me this . . . this ridiculous outfit! Who do they think I am? Romeo?”
Romeo, indeed. Dressed in a white open shirt and tight blue pants that disappeared at the knees into brown leather boots, John did not look ridiculous at all. He looked stunning. So much so that my words stumbled on my tongue, and I couldn’t answer. John looked up and, as if seeing me for the first time, started laughing.