Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(84)
Leo is unusually quiet as he leads me to her quarters and deposits me at the door. Lady Nuria’s room is in the same tower as mine, but one floor below, a not-so-subtle jab at the change in her social station. But there are no guards posted in front of her rooms.
Lady Nuria is waiting for me wearing nothing but a robe. Her hair tumbles down her back in loose curls. Her feet are bare, but that’s hardly the most scandalous thing she’s done since I’ve met her.
I hate that she makes me feel unbalanced. She is not the person I was expecting. This would be so much easier if she were like Lady Borbónel and the others. I could hate her on sight instead of feeling this pull of her kindness the way I felt with Sayida.
“Sit, Renata,” Lady Nuria says, dropping the formalities. “May I call you Renata?”
“Yes. I am no lady, after all.”
The living room is decorated in simple shades of gray and brown with the occasional green. There is none of the decadent lace or velvet of the rooms I’m staying in. I suppose that’s what happens when you marry someone dedicated to an order of hate.
On the center table is a spread of summer fruits, a carafe of blush wine, a glass teapot with jasmine brewing inside it, delicate confectioneries, and pastries.
She plops a grape into her mouth. “Please, eat. I have it on good authority that you are particularly fond of grapes.”
I shiver in the strange draft of this room despite the shut glass panes and the heat outside. The words escape my mouth before I can stop them.
“Why are you so—” I pause, realizing how they will sound.
“Don’t be shy. I have been called many things.”
“Kind,” I say, whirling around to see her standing in front of me, holding a goblet of wine and offering me another. Her eyes are black and luminous, like beads made of night sky. “How can you be so kind?”
“I choose it,” she says. “But don’t confuse it for weakness. Castian never did.”
Lady Nuria owes me nothing. She is not my friend, and before learning of her engagement with the prince I didn’t think of her as anything more than an heiress. But I can’t understand how someone like her could care for Castian so much. Surely she’s knows what he’s done.
“Why did you return to this palace if you hated Prince Castian?” she asks, stepping around me to return to her table.
“I don’t—”
“All I ask is that you be honest with me about this. I told you. Your emotions are practically written on your face.”
I’m strangely relieved someone is breaking through my fa?ade. I am tired of walking these halls and eating in these rooms and playing a role that has returned all too easily. To tell this girl that I want to kill the prince would only result in my own defeat. And yet, I can respect her. Everything I’ve seen her do is a small defiance of the crown.
“I have nowhere else to go,” I say. “And I am under the order of Justice Méndez.”
“You could have procured forged papers and passage to other kingdoms.”
“I had the chance. It’s almost hard to determine what I’m more afraid of, dying here or starting over somewhere completely unknown.”
“Starting over is never easy. But you chose the most difficult thing anyone can do. Facing your past.”
Can she see through me this easily? Méndez doesn’t seem to be able to. Or is he playing a part, the way Leo once graced a stage?
“I helped spill a lot of blood here. At the very least, I am rooted to Puerto Leones in more ways than I can understand. Even if it does not want me.”
She takes a deep breath. The fireplace crackles with orange flames in the corner of my eye, but somehow I can hear the sharp whistle of wind coming from somewhere. It does not make sense that a girl who is descended from queens would be in this grim and drafty room, but she does not complain. I drink the bitter wine and sniff back the sting in my nose.
“You know you can’t get them back,” I tell her. “The memories.”
She turns her face to the light-filled window opposite the citadela below us and drinks. “I know quite well how your power works. I should tell you, the memory is of Castian.”
“I figured as much.” I bite my bottom lip. Though she is not like other royals I’ve come across, I need to tread carefully when I talk about the prince. “It must be difficult to defend him after you were subjected to humiliation when he ended your engagement.”
Lament fills her eyes. She looks pretty even when she’s sad. “I was impetuous. I was spoiled. I thought I had it all. Others in my position have to choose between an advantageous union for their families or love. I was lucky to have both for a while.”
“And then?”
“He broke my heart. People talked as they always do, and I was made a villain. And yet, I know him. I know the boy I grew up with. Together we mourned the deaths of everyone he loved.”
I stiffen at the sentiment, trying to picture a murderer in mourning. When he killed his brother, did he mourn then as well? As if she were a Ventári herself, Lady Nuria nods her head.
“Yes, including his brother, despite what the rumors may say. The prince knew nothing but violence at the hands of his father. It chipped away at him. Changed him. When he came back from the Battle of Riomar, the change was magnified threefold. We tried but it didn’t work. Sometimes I wonder if only I had tried harder. Done more. But I don’t know how to help him. Didn’t know, I should say. Do you have many regrets, Renata?”