Page 39

Ofelia

We entered the orangery, a large, bright room made of pale stone. The walls were lined with arches and paned windows. Evening sunlight added a shimmer of gold to all the plants—rose bushes, orchids, birds of paradise. There was row after row of orange trees, small and well manicured, each in its own little green planter box. The sweet perfume of orange blossoms filled the air. As I strolled beside the king between the rows of trees, I couldn’t help but smile.

“It smells like my home,” I said. “The nearby town has orange trees growing everywhere. The oranges taste awful, but their perfume is so magnificent.”

The king nodded at me with a smile. “Yes, these are those very same trees, the variety from the south. A little testament to the many great beauties of my kingdom.” He guided me through the stone room, past beautiful marble statues and flowering orange trees, until we reached awooden bench with a red velvet cushion.

“This place is my little refuge,” said the king. “The silence and the perfume... they bring me peace.”

He sat down, and I placed myself beside him, careful not to touch his gold satin attire.

“This was Marisol’s favorite room,” said the king, his fingertips carefully brushing the leaves of an orange tree. He smiled, a distant, dreamy look in his eyes. “She would sketch here until sunset.”

Once more, I longed to ask him to tell me outright where precisely she was, but he had brought me here. He had said he had much to tell me. I bit my tongue and let him speak.

“We wrote each other so many letters. Her words were so lovely. So true. I have kept her notes, after all these years...”

My efforts to be as cool and levelheaded as Lope were in vain. My lip trembled. I couldn’t bear his reminiscing, not when it reminded me of the notes she would leave me in the morning:Hard at work in my studio. Please try not to break anything.

The king reached into his breast pocket and procured a lace handkerchief, holding it out to me.

“No, no,” I said, “I cannotweepin front of a king. It’s beneath you.”

“You may weep in front of your father,” he said, pressing the handkerchief into my hands. When he smiled, a dimple pressed into his right cheek, just like mine did.

Could it be so simple? To have lived with my mother asthe center of my universe in one moment, and in the next, to have lost her but to have gained a father?

I took a deep, shuddering breath of the warm air, fragrant with snapdragons and orange blossoms and roses. With his permission, I let tears fall.

“She came to the palace a few days ago,” the king began. My head snapped up almost without my permission, desperate for answers. “She was asking for sanctuary from those creatures. And she told me about you.” His thumb rose to brush against my chin. “A little treasure she kept for herself all these years. Beautiful. With eyes just like mine. And a head that is always in the clouds.”

It made my stomach twist. Shedidsay that about me. Her little treasure. Her cloud-bound daughter.

“The journey was hard on your mother,” said the king. “When she arrived, she had a fever and a dreadful cough.”

My hands flew over my mouth. “Gods above—is she all right?”

“Of course, dear.” He gave my hand a reassuring pat. “I had my physician tend to her. He said the best option was that she stay at my residence by the sea for a while to heal.”

I leapt to my feet. “Then I must go to her!”

I’d taken just one step when he caught me by the wrist. When I looked back at him, his eyes glimmered with pity.

“She is very ill, Ofelia.”

“Then she needs me all the more.” Already, I could see theplan unfolding in my head. Lope and I, in a royal carriage, on a journey to the sea. I’d hold my mother again. I’d tend to her as she did me through all my childhood illnesses. And when she was well enough, perhaps Lope and I could stand on the shore together, watching the waves. “Where is this residence? I’ll get a coach—”

“Ofelia.” His voice was sterner now. “She is highly contagious and not fit for visitors.”

“She wouldn’t—she wouldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t want us to be apart for so long.”

The king rose from his seat, his brow furrowing. It did not suit his face, so noble and pure and...divine.The face of a god, if we knew what they looked like. “Your mother is bedridden and weak. The physician would not even let me go with her. But she gave me a letter for you.”

My body, clenched tight as the string of a bow, finally loosened. “She did?”

“Yes. I’ll fetch it for you in the morning.” Slowly, he guided me back to the bench, coaxing me to sit down again. “You’ll be with her again in a fortnight, I swear it. But it would not do for you to also be stricken so ill. She would not want it.”

Two weeks. Two weeks, after already waiting so long. I wanted her now. I wanted to feel the warmth of her pressed against my cheek, to smell the lilac perfume and linseed oil that bled into her gown.