Love's Nest Read online

  When King Hernando smiled at him, licking his mustached mouth with a red, wet tongue, Mateo wished for the first time since the whole business began that his sisters would continue to outwit them all—if only for three more nights.

  King Hernando arrogantly outlined his plan for success. He’d brought with him a giant bell and six men. These men would stand outside the sisters’ chambers, taking turns banging upon the bell every few minutes, ensuring that King Hernando would stay awake the entire night. At Mateo’s father’s request, the men demonstrated the power of the bell.

  An hour later, Mateo’s head still rang with the noise. He had to admit that King Hernando stood the best chance of anyone so far of discovering his sisters’ secret.

  Unfortunately, he was no closer to discovering it himself.

  “Why do they rebel in such ways, Lámina?” Mateo asked as he followed her through her herb garden, watching her bend low to pull a weed, then stoop to snap off a branch of rosemary.

  She made a noise that offered little information about her opinion.

  “It’s not as if they are bad girls. Well, Catalina is a good girl. They are all good girls,” Mateo said.

  When Lámina cleared her throat, Mateo laughed and amended, “Except for Adelita and Blanca and Delfina and Herminia and Imelda and Josefina. They’re a bit of trouble sometimes.”

  “And you are no trouble at all,” she countered.

  “I don’t make problems as they do.”

  Lámina shrugged. “Trouble is many things. Sometimes trouble is refusing the hands of old men and princesses when it is your duty to accept.” She glanced up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her smile was crooked and revealed brown teeth. “Old Lámina sees how it is with you.”

  Certainly, he’d come to seek her advice, but he’d given away nothing of his plan—or lack thereof—yet. “It’s rather like being sold,” Mateo said, kicking at a clod of dirt.

  “Is it now?” she murmured, returning her focus to her plants.

  “Indeed. Only, instead of being sent along to the highest bidder, I am a prize to be won by the first to outwit eleven mischievous girls.”

  “I believe they are women, mi pájaro.”

  Mateo sighed. Of course they were women. They were women who should have, by all accounts, been married with families of their own. If they had all been settled, their antics would not be Papá’s problem. Mateo doubted—if they were properly matched—they’d even have time for mischief amidst their wifely duties.

  “They should be married,” Lámina said, her voice raspy and quiet. “As should you. You are a man grown and proud.”

  Mateo’s head snapped up. It was not the first time Lámina had expressed such a sentiment about his sisters, but it was the first she’d mentioned anything at all about his uncoupled state.

  “Leaving me aside, I agree.”

  “Why leaving you aside? Is there someone particular you would choose? Sir Franco? Old Lámina sees how you look at him.”

  Mateo shrugged. “No. He doesn’t share my interest. Regardless, I have no desire to be handed over to a stranger as a prize, expected to find affection where there is none.”

  “There’s something you are not telling me.”

  Mateo ran a hand through his hair and looked away from Lámina’s deep-set eyes. He thought of his father standing beside his mother’s grave. He recalled the way his father’s shoulders still shook with sobs whenever he remembered their joy and her death. “Truth be told, I don’t wish to marry at all. Marriage for love only ends in grief. And marriage for any other reason is far too unpalatable.”

  “And what of lusts? Of urges?”

  Mateo shrugged. “They can be satisfied without love or marriage, surely. I’ve heard as much admitted among the knights.”

  Lámina clucked her tongue. “Oh no, you don’t cause trouble at all, mi pájaro. Blaming your sisters when you bring the greatest trouble of all.”

  Mateo looked up to the sky, squinting into the sun. “Is a full commitment of heart and soul really necessary for happiness, Lámina? Must I give my heart to another person when trusting in someone leaves me exposed to such pain that I could be wrecked for all eternity? I don’t wish to end my life like father, sad and clinging too hard to his children.”

  Lámina’s fuzzy brows lifted, white caterpillars smugly inching toward her hairline. “You will see for yourself, Mateo. Love is not something you avoid or throw to the dogs. Love is always the victor when it seeks you out. And you are marked by love.”

  Mateo sighed. He should have known better than to allow himself to go so far off course in this conversation. Lámina was a romantic old fool, overly fond of fairy stories and too full of love for him and his sisters to believe in anything but her own rose-colored dreams for them. But the problem was not his future and whether love would play a part, but rather if he would find himself forced into a marriage to King Hernandez, or some other equally unwanted chancer.

  “Lámina, my sisters are the issue here. And yes, I suppose if I’m honest there is little to wonder about in their rebellion. Luz is of age now, and the others grow restless. They’ve all put our own lives aside for Papá’s happiness. That cannot last forever.”

  “I dare say it has already come to an end.”

  “I know you have talked with father about his plans for the girls in the past.” He reached down and rubbed a piece of sage between his fingertips.

  “For you and for your sisters, yes.”

  Mateo’s head snapped up. “What sorts of plans for me?”

  “Only whether there are any princes in neighboring kingdoms who share your inclination toward other men.” Lámina stared at the rosemary, her eyes distant as she considered.

  “And are there?”

  “Indeed, mi pájaro. There are a few. But your father never found one he favored for you. Nor any prospects that he deemed proper for your sisters.”

  Now it seemed his father had grown less particular in his choices for his children. Or perhaps it was only desperation and a loss of control over his wayward daughters that had left him willing to compromise them all without regard for affection, politics or bloodlines.

  “If King Hernando has anything to do with it—” Mateo broke off, unwilling to contemplate that any further. It must not happen. He must find a way to discover his sisters’ secret himself.

  Lámina raised an eyebrow as she considered him, as if he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

  “I intend to put an end to this contest for our hands, Lámina. But I need help.”

  Lámina’s old eyes were a strange gray-green that seemed to shift like the water of a deep lake. She studied him and he let her. For the entire length of an evening birdsong she studied him. “Come,” she said.

  Mateo realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out slowly and followed where Lámina led, just as he had since he was able to walk. Lámina’s cottage was small, messy and overflowing with dried herbs. No place in the kingdom smelled as pungent and aromatic. Mateo took a deep breath as he stepped inside.

  “I have something for you,” she said, motioning to him with her crooked, bird-claw fingers toward the dark shadows at the back of the cottage. “Something I’ve been waiting to give you for quite some time.”

  The cloak was of a dark but indeterminate color. It could have easily been blue, black or green in hue, but in the shadows Mateo could not say. The material was finer than anything Lámina could possibly afford, and Mateo opened his mouth to ask how she came by it. More importantly he meant to reassure her that he had no need for such a gift. He had many cloaks to his name, and would never want her to part with such a handsome object.

  But Lámina stood on her tiptoes to press a finger against his lips. Mateo towered over her and not for the first time, he wondered at her smallness. Although he was as tall as the knights of the court, her arm was stretched to its full length just to keep her long nail pressed against his mouth, and only children were so tiny.

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p; “Hush now,” she whispered. She took her finger away and lowered herself down to her flat feet. “You have always been my favorite. I want nothing more than to see you happy, loved, cherished, adored. You will need a young man who can match you pleasure for pleasure, thrust for thrust. I know you, my Mateo. I know what you seek.”

  Mateo felt the roots of his hair grow hot at the accuracy of her words.

  “That’s why you came to me. You know old Lámina will help you get it.” Her eyes glinted in amusement. “Unless I am wrong? And you do seek to marry the old man with sour breath and a shriveled prick?”

  Mateo could only laugh and shake his head.

  “I thought not. This cloak is no ordinary cloak. It’s woven with magic. Shh, don’t ask how or why or where. I’ll never tell. It is my secret and promise. The wearer of the cloak is invisible.”

  Mateo looked at the cloak in his hand. He was skeptical but could think of no point in his life when, aside from fairy tales and stories, Lámina had ever told him or his sisters an untrue thing.

  “Try it on. Walk about. See that no one will take notice of you so long as you wear it.”

  Mateo shook the cloak out and swung it around his shoulders. He felt unchanged, but when he turned to look in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, he gasped. He was invisible as Lámina promised, from head to toes.

  “How you use it is up to you,” Lámina said, moving to her table, mounded with flowers in all stages of drying. She began to tie up the ends of the rosemary she’d brought in. “You could give it to King Hernando to aid him in his mission should your feelings toward him soften. Or, you could use it yourself to hide in your sisters’ rooms, to watch how they rid themselves of old Hernando’s unwanted presence and follow where they go.”

  Mateo took the cloak off. Yes, he was visible in the mirror again. He started to laugh, a giddy bubble bursting in his chest. “This is amazing, Lámina. Amazing!”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Oh, but I forgot one important thing.”

  “Yes?” Mateo asked, whipping the cloak over his shoulder again and watching his reflection wink out in the mirror.

  “Old Lámina said you would be invisible, and that is true. Invisible to all but one.”

  Mateo slipped the coat off again, distracted. “All but one,” he repeated slowly.

  “Yes. The one who sees you despite the cloak’s magic is…how shall I say?”

  “Dangerous?” Mateo asked.

  Lámina’s eyes flickered as though she was holding something back. “Is special. ¿Comprendes?”

  “Sí. Un amigo.”

  “Not just any friend, Mateo. Your best friend.”

  Mateo frowned. “Luz is my best friend.” Being seen by Luz would defeat the purpose of the cloak, at least as far as his half-formed plan went.

  “Not Luz,” Old Lámina said, waving the idea away. “A different kind of friend than she could ever be.”

  “Then who?”

  “Time will tell. Or perhaps time will not tell. In all the worlds seen and unseen, only one such person exists for you, Mateo. Do you get Old Lámina’s meaning?”

  Mateo held the cloak up, staring at its darkness, wondering what man might be the answer to the riddle the cloak contained. “I believe I do. The cloak not only renders me invisible, but reveals my truest friend.”

  “Sí, I believe you understand old Lámina now.” She toddled over and patted his arm, gazing up at him with her deep, sea-like eyes.

  Mateo’s throat felt dry as he whispered, “Do you know his name?”

  “Shh,” Lámina’s smile was as tender as when he was a child and he cried out in the night, terrified of the dark. “Let us make a bargain. You solve the problem of your sisters, and if you still don’t know the name of your friend, Old Lámina will whisper it to you.”

  Mateo’s heart pounded as he considered her words. “I accept, Lámina,” he whispered. Then he stepped close, put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Gracias.”

  Lámina had not been lying—of course she had not. Mateo wandered the castle, the grounds and the stables, and no one noticed him at all. It was the most freedom Mateo had ever experienced. The cloak’s magic worked perfectly on people, but with animals not as well. The horses seemed oblivious to him, but, Whitey, his sisters’ Bichon Frise, little fluffball that he was, barked and barked and barked in Mateo’s general direction until Herminia and Elisa scolded the poor animal harshly and cast him out of their presence.

  Mateo smirked as the dog trotted along beside him through the castle, yipping and nipping at his heels. The guards were befuddled, but they thankfully blocked the dog’s way. In the dovecote, Mateo stood in the middle, waiting to see if the birds noticed him. He smiled softly when Pura swooped low, landed on his shoulder and cooed.

  “All right,” he said, pulling a loose thread from the end of the cloak and letting the dove take it from his fingers for her nest. Then Mateo pitched his voice to sound as authoritative as the men in his father’s council who pounded their fists on the table as they demanded something or someone be shown the power behind the king.

  “Tonight, I put an end to it. I will discover the truth of where they go once and for all.”

  The dove seemed impressed by his performance, and Mateo lifted his chin in half-amused pride.

  Chapter Two

  King Hernando pressed a gold ducat into the guard’s palm. “Thank you for your good service. My men shall take over from here.”

  Mateo stood to the side, secure beneath the cloak and close enough that he would not miss his opportunity to follow King Hernando into his sisters’ chambers. His father brandished the sole key to the door, which he now kept with him at all times. He even slept with it tied around his waist beneath his nightshirt. Such was his obsession with discovering the girls’ secret, and so strong was his suspicion that an accomplice yet lurked in the court.

  “I do wish Prince Mateo had joined us for dinner,” Hernando said. “It would have been encouraging to see his face before this endeavor. I find his sweet brown eyes so fortifying, and his clean-shaven cheek a pleasure to touch.”

  Mateo shuddered, remembering the man’s fingers on his face that morning at breakfast, claiming Mateo had a smear of jam on his cheek had been all the excuse necessary. The caress had been more than enough to solidify Mateo’s resolve that the man’s fingers never touch another inch of him again.

  “My children’s lack of manners and gratitude wounds me daily,” his father said, looking grieved indeed. “Had they more of either we would not be in this situation. Their mother would be ashamed.”

  Mateo swallowed back his urge to dispute that. It was at times like this he had to admit to himself that, as the youngest, he and Luz had not really known their mother. She existed for them only in stories. Perhaps his mother would be ashamed of them. Thinking of his sisters and their unbecoming defiance, perhaps she should be.

  “I assume Mateo’s dark, curly hair comes from your late queen,” Hernando said, as if he’d not heard the tone of sadness in Mateo’s father’s voice.

  “His hair, his mouth, all that is good of him.”

  The king unlocked the door and stepped inside the rooms. Mateo could hear him demanding the girls line up, and he called each of their names beginning with Adelita and ending with Luz, confirming they were all present.

  Mateo plugged his ears as Hernando’s men set up the giant bell, already dreading the noise of it. Silent, silent, do not breathe, do not make a sound, he reminded himself as he took position behind Hernando.

  When Hernando was called upon to enter, Mateo slipped through the door with him and into the darkest corner of the antechamber. He adjusted the dark cloak over his shoulders and watched as his father swept past with Whitey growling softly in his arms. Mateo was sickened to see his father’s face so sad and drawn. Yes, it was time to put an end to his sisters’ escapades. Even if Mateo himself chafed at his father’s control, he wouldn’t see him so heartbroken.

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nbsp; As the lock turned in the tumbler, Mateo stepped into the light from the large candelabras on the walls. He waited. Then he waited longer. Finally, the bell clanged, rattling him to the core, and he used the distraction of the noise to edge open the inner door leading to his sisters’ bed chamber. In the open doorway he paused, half-expecting that the cloak’s magic would not work, despite having tested it all day.

  Through the door from the inner anteroom, he could see his sisters in their bedchamber, all wearing thick nightgowns and braided hair. They rested in their beds, facing King Hernando, who sat across from them in a straight-back chair at the writing desk. Most of them paid the king no attention as he prattled on about his own genius and his plan for the bell.

  After several minutes, the bell rang again, drowning out his words, and Herminia frowned and stabbed a needle back and forth through fabric, drawing more blood than thread with each jab. Gracia and Josefina both read books, and several of the others talked quietly.

  Mateo sank down to the floor of the antechamber as quietly as he could, his legs already growing tired of the aimless standing. When the bell stopped reverberating through the rooms, Hernando had moved on to the various changes he planned to make to his largest estate in order for Mateo to be more comfortable there.

  “I believe the boy likes doves, does he not?”

  “He does,” Luz agreed, and Adelita shot her a dark look. “What, now? Are we to lie to him about what our brother likes?”

  Adelita just glared at her and grabbed a brush from her vanity, starting to work out a knot in her hair.

  “I intend to build a magnificent dovecote for him, bigger and better than any he’s ever seen,” King Hernando said. “It renders me nearly delirious to think of how he might smile when he sees it. Think how many doves he can raise! Do you think that would please him?”