and chew the sticky candy. My jaw aches from not having had anything to eat in so long. The sugar melts quickly. A rush comes over me when I consider my rashness. What if it had been poisoned? I chew to buy myself a moment to think. Méndez needs me to present to the king, who has been displeased with Justice Méndez. He wouldn’t dare. I decide I’ve done the right thing. This is the way I show him that I trust him, rushing to consume the treasures he’s giving me, no matter how small. Still, I need to be more careful.
Méndez waits until I swallow before he snaps open another drawer to pull out a piece of dark fabric with something metallic attached. It isn’t until he holds it by the metal cuff that I see it is a single locked glove.
It’s been years since I’ve worn the design of his own making, but I hold out my good hand to him. It’s like my muscles remember his every command, and I feel like my body has betrayed me. The gloves, the candy, the story he told me about when I was injured. We are stepping into the past, into a time when he trusted me. I need that trust to find my way around the palace.
He places the glove on my hand, the leather soft but snug over the calluses along my knuckles and palm. Then he clicks the iron bracelet into place. It’s a pretty thing, for a manacle.
“This will have to do until your other hand heals and you can wear them both.” He rings his bell, and a moment later, a boy scurries in, dressed in the sunflower-yellow uniform of a justice’s page.
“Take her to Lady Nuria’s former apartments,” Méndez orders. “The attendants should have arrived by now. When you’ve delivered her, let Leonardo know he will have his work cut out for him before the royal presentation.”
My stomach turns into knots at the thought of being brought before the king and prince. Perhaps if I start now, I will be able to control myself when I see him. Stay for more, Lozar had asked of me. I owe too many promises to the dead, it seems.
The page nods and begins to head to the door, and I stand, ready to follow him. Dazed not just from the day’s events or the wound that throbs slightly, but from hope.
A heavy weight descends on my shoulder. Méndez’s hand squeezes once, and his voice takes on a familial tone. “I’m glad you’re back, Renata. It’ll be as if you never left.”
And as I follow the servant down the cavernous hall, that’s exactly what I fear.
But I am wrong. Some things—like the sprawling mosaic of griffins on the floor—are the same, but not everything. The halls appear smaller. When you spend nearly a decade sleeping under the sky, or in the wide-open spaces of the Moria stronghold in ángeles, a place like this is bound to stifle. It’s like wearing an old article of clothing and finding it no longer fits. The gold-painted molding and halls filled with sculptures, panels of glass from the best artisans in the town of Jaspe. King Fernando takes pride in surrounding himself with the riches of Puerto Leones. All he allows to be imported are silks and a violet dye only found in the kingdom of Dauphinique, and the bananas that flourish best in Empirio Luzou across the sea.
I’m led through halls decorated with vases, tapestries in vivid greens and blues. We ascend stone stairs that smell strongly of incense, and step into a sky bridge with arched columns glittering with tiles in the old Zaharian style. When the boy turns down a long corridor, I get the dizzying sensation of remembrance. I’m most struck by a simple wooden door. The skin of my arms turns to gooseflesh as I slow down. Rusted hinges and a keyhole filled with dust speak of a forgotten place.
But I could never forget this door.
I know exactly what’s behind it.
I remember it so well I can almost taste the dust of its books, feel the softness of the plush velvet chairs that line the small library. I grab for the doorknob, but it’s locked.
“We have to keep going, miss,” the page boy says, his voice climbing an octave, and I realize I’ve been staring at the closed library door for who knows how long. Releasing a pent-up breath, I keep walking.
As soon as we get to