“By the way, Princess,” he said, “I think it would be safer if a third party would be present tomorrow when I write. So it doesn’t become too . . . personal?”
My face burning, I averted my eyes. Only when I reached the door did I gather enough courage to look back. Don Julián was staring at me in his usual shameless way. But the eyes that met my stare were not hard with pride, but dark with sorrow. And I knew that for once I had caught him unaware, and I had seen into his soul.
Wishing I hadn’t, I turned again and left the room.
The following morning, I overslept. I was supposed to take over Don Julián’s care from Margarida at sunrise, but the sun was already halfway up my window when I dragged myself out of bed. It was not until I saw my face in the mirror, black circles under my eyes, that I remembered the events of the previous evening and the incredible news that Don Julián had agreed to my plan. Mother is going to be impressed, I said to myself as I rushed through my toilette.
When I opened the door into Don Julián’s room, Margarida was still there. Sitting by his side, she was quietly talking to him as she fed him from a bowl. Don Julián, his eyes intent on her face, was listening to her story and smiled from time to time. Margarida was talking about Don Alfonso, of how they had met at the Spring Ball.
“That is indeed a very romantic story,” Don Julián said when she finished. Raising his eyes, he stared openly at me. “Don’t you think so, Princess Andrea?”
He knew I was listening, I thought, blood rushing to my face. Muttering an awkward excuse for my previous silence, I stepped inside.
Margarida greeted me warmly. “Good morning,Andrea,” she said, getting up. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have been covering for you. Don Julián told me you didn’t feel well last night, so I decided not to wake you up. Are you feeling better now?”
Trying to guess what else he had told her, I glanced at Don Julián. But his face was indecipherable. “Yes, I am better. Thank you for your help, Margarida.”
“My pleasure.”
Leaving the bowl on the floor, she bent toward Don Julián and pressed her palm against his forehead—the way Ama used to do to me when I was sick as a child and running a fever. Don Julián did not complain. And when Margarida offered him a cup, he did not try to take it from her, but drank from her hands as if he had done it all his life. Then he lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
When Margarida was finished, she came toward me. “Andrea, Don Julián has told me he has agreed to your plan and has asked me to bring him some paper and ink to write to Father. He was so insistent, I couldn’t refuse. But I don’t think it is a good idea . . .”
“Why not? You don’t want to marry Don Alfonso?”
“No. I mean yes. It is not that, Andrea. What I mean is that Don Julián is not ready to meet with Father. He is too weak to leave the castle.”
“I know, Margarida. But the meeting will not be for a couple of weeks. Don Julián will be all right by then.”
Margarida sighed. “I hope you are right,” she said and, after giving me a hug, turned to go. She was already at the door when I remembered Don Julián’s request from the previous night.
“Margarida, please wait. Could you stay here while Don Julián writes to Father?”
Margarida shook her head. “I am sorry, sister, but if I don’t go now, my dueña will get suspicious. I keep telling her I am with Mother, but one of these days she is going to check, and I will be in trouble. But if you want, I could ask Tío Ramiro. I am sure he will be glad to come.”
I nodded. “Thank you, sister. You are the best.”
After Margarida left, I asked Don Julián whether he needed anything. But he assured me that he was perfectly fine, that Princess Margarida had already dressed his wound, and that he was sure I had lots of things to attend to. Given my behavior of the previous day, I could not blame him for rejecting my help. Avoiding his eyes, I went to my usual place by the window and tried to look busy doing nothing.
It was with relief that I heard footsteps outside. I rushed to the door and let Tío Ramiro in. Tío didn’t waste any time with me. After a brief greeting, he pushed me aside and walked up to the king.
“Your Majesty,” he said as he knelt to him, “it will be an honor to serve you.”
“The honor is mine,” Don Julián said. His voice was again cold and reserved, the voice of the king. And when I looked at him, I realized he was not lying on the pillows anymore, but sitting against the headboard, his body tense with the effort, the knuckles of his hand white around the bedpost, and his eyes, dark and unreadable, intent on Tio’s.
Tío Ramiro, his right knee still on the ground, returned his stare. “Before we proceed further, Sire, I owe you an apology.”
“Apology accepted,” Don Julián said. Then low, so low that I almost missed it, he added, “It has been a long time since that fateful day, Sir. Now, if we want to move forward, we must leave the past behind.”
“That is a most generous offer, Your Majesty. But recent events seem to—”
“Silence!”
Sharp and cold like the northern wind, the word echoed against the bare walls, freezing the air in its wake.
“Princess Andrea. Don Ramiro and I have matters to discuss in private.” The king had let go of the bedpost and, holding himself straight against the headboard, was staring at me with the distant arrogance of our first meeting. “I must ask you to leave now.”
I gasped and felt a sharp pain in my chest, as if icicles were ripping my flesh. Pressing my hand against my ribs to ease the pain, I moved toward him.
“I will not go, Sire. I—”
Don Ramiro blocked my way. “Andrea, wait in the other room. No arguments.”
Tears of frustration blurring my vision, I curtsied and left.
With angry strides, I paced the room—the room that had become my prison—and kicked the walls with my soft slippers that did nothing to mitigate the blows, yet I didn’t feel any pain. After an indefinite time the door opened, and Tío came in. He was smiling.
“Andrea, would you come to Don Julián’s room?” he asked, ignoring my furious demeanor. “I have to go now, and Don Julián must not be alone.”
When I did not answer, he added, “It is done, Andrea. Don Julián has agreed to meet with your father to discuss the conditions for peace. But I’m afraid your father will need a lot of persuasion to believe the offer is genuine. That is why I have decided to deliver the letter in person and hope he will believe it was brought here to the castle to me because I am the arbitrator. Also, I must be the one to carry the answer back to Alvar so I can explain the situation to Don Alfonso and inform him of the place and time of Don Julián’s return.”
“Congratulations,Tío. I’m sure both of them will be overjoyed with the news.”
“Andrea, what’s the matter with you? Don Julián has accepted your plan. What more do you want?”
“An apology to begin with. An explanation perhaps. As you just said,Tío, it was my plan. Why couldn’t I stay while you discussed it? Why did you dismiss me?”
“Andrea, please, grow up. Your plan has nothing to do with it. Don Julián was only trying to protect you when he asked you to leave.” Turning brusquely, he closed the door behind him. “I know it’s difficult for you to believe,” he said coming toward me, “but the world didn’t start the day you were born, and it doesn’t revolve around you, either.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean,Tío?”
“It means that you don’t know all the facts. If you did, you would understand that Don Julián deserves your respect and not your hate.”
“Why? Have you forgotten that Don Julián was the one who started the war? The one who made me a prisoner and sentenced me to death? Besides, I am not the only one with hate. Or haven’t you noticed the look in Don Julián’s eyes when you mention Father’s name?”