The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo

Author:Leigh Bardugo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

Chapter 29

The second trial was to take place at night, and so Valentina wore her black velvet. Her lack of jewels would be less conspicuous in the dark. Marius had appeared at the door when she was helping Concha finish placing the scalloped cockleshells in Luzia’s braids. He too had worn black and his goose-belly jacket looked a bit snug. The parade of food and wine at La Casilla never stopped. Still, she thought the excess suited him. He loved to hunt and to ride and he’d lost his sullen pallor. His black hair and beard were glossy, his eyes sparkled.

In the past it was as if he’d hoarded the things that brought him pleasure, greeting any question about his day or his interests as a kind of intrusion. But now he seemed eager to share with her, turning to her at meals to suggest she taste an interesting dish, returning from the hunt brimming with stories, even inquiring over her own day.

Last night he’d told of a man being thrown from his horse, a near deadly thing.

“Well,” she’d said without thinking, “I had to spend the afternoon with Señora Galves, so I’m lucky I didn’t expire from boredom.”

When he’d burst out laughing, she’d nearly toppled from her chair in surprise. Had she ever made her husband laugh?

“Isn’t she the one with the son who writes poetry?” he asked.

“Yes. She recited some of his verses for us.”

“Please tell me you remember them.”

“Only the very worst lines,” she confessed. They had spent the rest of the night making up awful couplets and getting very drunk, and as the hour grew late, the talking turned to kissing, but still they laughed when they stopped to catch their breath. She hadn’t known such a thing was possible or permitted, and though she’d woken with a headache, she felt the price of discovery was well worth it.

Now he said, “Shall we go meet the vicar?” and offered her his arm.

Luzia followed them into the gardens and the blue dusk. Valentina knew this was a holy occasion, a test of purity for the hopefuls, another demonstration of their gifts. She should be solemn in the presence of the vicar and the other church deputies, seated on a raised platform, a blue tent salted with golden stars above them like heaven itself. But the gardens were lit with lanterns and torches, and musicians played from somewhere in the trees. It was hard not to think that she was simply at a party, the most wonderful party she’d ever attended.

Chairs were arranged on one of the lawns and a pretty little stage had been erected, festooned with red and white ribbons, the fabric of the curtain shining gold.

“A puppet show?”

“Yes,” said Catalina de Castro de Oro, approaching with a glass in her hand. “Pérez has brought the puppeteer all the way from Umbria.”

“Italian painters, Italian puppets,” grumbled Marius. “Is nothing Spanish good enough for him?”

The widow lifted a shoulder. “It’s the fashion.”

“Is that wine?” Valentina asked.

“Wine and lemonade.

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