Solimar, p.6
Solimar, page 6
The dress fittings for the quinceañera were tomorrow, but Solimar wasn’t worried. They would be inside the castle. It would be easy enough to guard the rebozo.
The next day, Solimar put her hands on her hips and announced, “I don’t need chaperones. I can go to the fitting by myself. The sewing room is indoors.”
Lázaro squabbled.
“Láz is right,” said Zarita. “You should be grateful for us. A rogue sunbeam and a question at the wrong moment—snap! Your cover would be blown. So where you go, we go. Besides, we’re dying to see the dresses.”
Solimar shook her head. “Zarita, I can’t risk you startling anyone. You would have to be still and quiet. And I’m not sure you’re capable.”
There was a knock at her door. “Solimar?”
“That’s María.” Solimar looked at Zarita.
Zarita flopped onto the bed and talked without moving her lips. “Stiff limbs, no talking, limp wings, vacant stare, lifeless. I got this.”
María entered. “My mother asked me to bring you a tray with some toast and juice. Everyone will arrive within the hour for the fittings. I’m to remind you to bring your new shoes to try on with your gown.” María smiled. “Can I see them?”
Part of the quinceañera tradition was for Solimar to enter the festivities wearing the flat shoes of a young girl. She would then sit in a chair of honor placed in the middle of the dance floor. Her father would step forward, holding an open shoe box with a pair of more elegant, high-heeled shoes. He would remove the flat shoes from Solimar’s feet and slip on the others, signifying her passage from childhood to womanhood. Then Solimar and her father would dance a waltz.
After the quinceañera, she would be considered a princess of the world. And, she would also officially be crowned Princess Solimar Socorro Reyes Guadalupe of San Gregorio.
Solimar retrieved the shoe box from her closet and set it on the bed. She opened the box, pushed aside the paper, and held up the silver shoes.
“They’re beautiful!” said María.
“Except I haven’t learned to walk in them yet. I wobble every few steps.”
“You’ll practice. I can’t wait for my quinceañera so I can be a princess of the world, too,” said María. “Then we’ll be able to go to dances together and wear longer dresses, put our hair up—well, I will at least—and have shoes with heels.”
Solimar groaned. “It sounds like a lot of work. And uncomfortable.” She lifted her skirt. “Besides, I prefer my hiking boots.”
María laughed. “Of course you do! Soli, aren’t you just a little bit excited?”
Solimar smiled. “Yes. A little. It’s just so over-the-top.”
“A quinceañera and a coronation? It deserves to be. Thank you for asking me to be in your court.”
Solimar hugged María. “You were my first choice.”
“You will be my first choice, too, when it’s my turn. Oh, and one more thing,” said María, “after you eat your breakfast, go straight to the sewing room for the alterations. Your grandmother will be there. Your mother will meet you as soon as she can. She said to start without her.”
Solimar frowned. This wasn’t like her mother. She’d been waiting for this day for months. “Why? Where is she?”
“In the library. She is meeting with Señor Verde, Juan Pedro, and King Aveno.”
“King Aveno? What is he doing here?”
María shrugged. “He arrived this morning with an entourage of guards. I took a tray into the room for them. It’s some sort of boring meeting. I better go. I have a few things to do before the fitting. See you soon.”
“Yes, soon,” said Solimar. Poor Mother. She had to deal with King Aveno on today of all days. He was probably making another offer on the land. Mother and Señor Verde would tell him what Father had said—that no decision could be made at this time. And, hopefully, that would be that.
After breakfast, Solimar dressed in a camisole and underskirt with a blouse and skirt on top, then carefully draped the rebozo over her shoulders. She considered Zarita. She had been quiet while María was in the room. Solimar slipped the jubilant doll into her skirt pocket, beckoned Lázaro to her shoulder, and walked down several long corridors toward the sewing room.
Even before she walked through the doorway, the hum of excited conversation reached her. María rushed to Solimar and grabbed her hand. “Wait until you see! The dresses are a rainbow of colors. Mine is turquoise. Estela’s is pistachio. And yours is a deep coral.”
María led her to where all the gowns were displayed on dress forms, each one similar in fabric and style, but none as full or as beaded as Solimar’s. Her gown had a fitted waist, a bodice covered with lace, and an enormous frothy tulle skirt with sequins embroidered in the shape of tiny butterflies. The dress reminded her of the full-bloom floribunda roses in the garden.
Solimar spotted Abuela and Señora Batista sitting in chairs on the other side of the room, near the open door to the back staircase that led to the kitchen. Solimar waved to them.
The head seamstress, Señora Vega, clapped her hands. “Each of you please stand on a platform so my assistants might help you into your gowns.”
Solimar and her friends found their places.
Señora Vega removed the coral dress from its form and carried it toward Solimar, smiling. “Ready?”
Solimar stood on a platform in her underskirt and camisole, keeping the rebozo in her hand. She caught Zarita peeking from the folds of the skirt she’d draped over a chair. Solimar glared at her until she popped out of sight.
The seamstress slipped the ball gown over her head. “Let me hold your wrap, Solimar,” said Señora Vega. “So we can get the full effect.”
“No! I mean, I’m a little chilly.” Solimar flipped the rebozo over her shoulders.
There was a large oval mirror positioned opposite Solimar. She couldn’t stop looking at her reflection. Was she really seeing herself? She tried to imagine what she would look like with a tiara on her head. She slid her hands into the tulle on either side of the skirt and found what she was hoping for. “Pockets! How did you know?”
Señora Vega laughed. “I’ve been dressing you since you were a child. I knew exactly what you would like.”
When Solimar turned around to show the others, the mothers gushed their approvals.
Solimar felt a twinge of regret that her mother was missing the fitting. What could be taking so long?
“Now, Solimar, let’s try it with your heels,” said Señora Vega. “So I can pin the hem.”
Solimar lifted her skirt to reveal her boots. “Couldn’t I just wear these?”
Arms flew up, and fingers shook.
“No!”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate!”
“The wrong look altogether!”
“Heaven forbid!”
“But they’re so comfortable,” said Solimar.
Señora Vega raised her eyebrows. “Where are your quinceañera shoes?”
“I meant to bring them. They’re in my room. I’ll run and get them.” Before anyone could object, she hopped from the platform and ran from the sewing room, holding up the bulbous gown so she wouldn’t trip on its length.
When she reached her room, she grabbed the shoes. She knew how she would handle this. At the quinceañera, she would participate in the shoe ceremony and the dance with her father. Then she’d excuse herself and put on her comfortable boots. And no one would know the difference.
On her way back, she took the shortcut and darted downstairs and through the kitchen, clambering up the back staircase. Just before she reached the sewing room door, piercing screams rang out from inside.
Solimar froze on the threshold, the silver shoes slipping from her grasp and rattling down the stairwell.
The sewing room erupted into mayhem.
Mothers called for their daughters. Girls cried. Footsteps scuffled. Chairs tipped over. A man’s booming voice ordered, “Be quiet!”
Abuela and Señora Batista now stood with their backs to Solimar, blocking the entrance to the sewing room. Abuela glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Solimar. Her eyes filled with alarm, and almost imperceptibly, Abuela shook her head. With a hand behind her back, she waved for Solimar to go away. Then Abuela slowly pulled the door almost completely shut.
Where was her mother? Solimar couldn’t leave until she knew. She peeked around the door.
Unfamiliar guards surrounded everyone. One stepped forward and announced, “By order of King Aveno, you are all under house arrest and may not leave the castle.”
Solimar sucked in her breath.
Boots clattered as an entourage of more guards pushed their way in, marching Señor Verde and her mother to the center of the room!
Juan Pedro followed. But he was walking with the guards! Wasn’t he Señor Verde’s assistant?
“Everyone, take a seat!” insisted Juan Pedro.
Unaccustomed to Juan Pedro giving orders, no one moved.
“Now!” yelled a guard.
Solimar clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.
While the mothers, daughters, and seamstresses huddled together in chairs and on the fitting platforms, the distraught Señor Verde sat next to Queen Rosalinda, who put a protective arm around him.
The room hushed.
King Aveno entered, flanked by his lieutenants.
He was the antithesis of King Sebastián and looked as if he rarely came off his throne or horse. His face was round and reddish, his cheeks bulgy, and his hair slicked down with pomade. He was immaculately groomed—his white shirt starched, his pants pressed into knife pleats. Rings studded his fingers, and an enormous gold coin dangled from a lanyard around his neck.
Abuela stepped forward. “What is the meaning of this?”
King Aveno smiled and bowed. “Doña Ana Guadalupe, how nice to see an old acquaintance. Now, to the pressing circumstance. With King Sebastián gone, I could not resist this vulnerable moment to gain the advantage I needed to negotiate for the land I wish to buy.”
Queen Rosalinda’s face was like stone. “Holding us hostage until he agrees to sell you a thousand acres is blackmail. Not a negotiation. When he returns…”
“What? There will be an alliance against me?” He laughed. “One of my many spies told me all about the meeting.”
Juan Pedro smiled.
“And I’ve already arranged for King Sebastián and the prince to be ‘intercepted’ on their way to the meeting. So it will be of no consequence. The other kingdoms are too small and pathetic to make a move against me. Rest assured, your king and prince will be escorted back here, where I feel confident the thousand acres will be handed to me in exchange for your safety. If King Sebastián cooperates, we will all go back to the way things were—two neighboring kingdoms disregarding each other and living peacefully side by side.”
Señor Verde looked miserable. “I am so sorry, Queen Rosalinda. I did not know there was a traitor among us.”
“Juan Pedro, you are Señor Verde’s assistant!” said the queen. “This is how you repay San Gregorio? Where is your allegiance?”
He smirked. “My only allegiance is to the king who will make my life more financially fulfilling. At the moment, that is King Aveno. And don’t worry, we will keep you safe and make you all comfortable. If you cooperate. Now, where is the young Solimar?”
“Why?” asked the queen.
“Oh, you thought this was only about the land?” said King Aveno. “She is actually our greatest concern. I need to ask her a few questions.”
Solimar pulled away from the door. He couldn’t possibly know about the magic. Could he?
“Where is she?” yelled Juan Pedro.
Señora Vega stammered, “Sh-she left, t-t-to—”
Abuela raised a finger. “It is my fault she is not here. I sent her to retrieve my sewing basket. I needed my little gold book that lists all the types of stitches so we might have an embroidery circle for the hem of her quinceañera dress.”
Solimar frowned. Little gold book? Embroidery circle? What was Abuela talking about? Her mind raced. And then she knew. The passageway.
“And where is your sewing basket?” demanded Juan Pedro.
“I couldn’t quite remember,” said Abuela. “You see, my memory is not what it used to be. So I sent Solimar to check my herbarium. And I told her if it wasn’t there, to try the stone bench under the bougainvillea arch in the garden. Or even possibly the animals’ patio.”
King Aveno gave a nod to the guards, who dispersed down the front stairs.
Solimar inched away from the door, then tiptoed down the back stairs and through the kitchen. She waited until she heard the guards outside in the garden calling to one another before she darted to the library, closing the double doors behind her. As quietly as she could, she rushed to the bookcase, found the book with the gold cover, reached behind it, and pulled the lever.
The entrance to the tunnel popped open.
She replaced the book and ducked inside the passageway, pulling the bookcase toward her until it clicked in place. She put a hand over her heart, taking deep breaths to try to calm the hammering in her chest.
A few moments later, Solimar heard voices in the library and leaned her ear against the door. She recognized King Aveno and Juan Pedro. Abuela had been right. She could hear every word they said.
“Send guards house-to-house and take attendance of all the residents who remain,” said King Aveno. “Tell them, and the castle staff, we will be checking on them every day and if we find anyone missing, it will bring harm to the hostages. How many do we have?”
“Queen Rosalinda and her mother, four seamstresses, Señor Verde—the conscientious fool—and seven young women and their mothers, including the castle chef. We’re missing Solimar, but we will find her. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that fancy pet bird of hers, either. It never leaves her side and has a band on its leg with the royal crest.”
“It will be easy to spot. Tell all the guards to keep an eye out for it. Get the chef and her staff back in the kitchen to start making meals,” said King Aveno. “Do you have everyone in position in Puerto Rivera?”
“Yes, guards all over the marketplace, some in uniform, some in disguise,” said Juan Pedro. “There are spies everywhere. Someone will be watching the king and the prince’s every move at all times.”
“Good. Now, you are sure about the soon-to-be princess?”
“Just as I reported,” said Juan Pedro. “I was on horseback on my way to meet with you when I saw Solimar and her grandmother near the waterfall. It seemed odd they were so far from the castle, so I followed them to the house of the curandera. I stood at the window and listened until the goats started nibbling on my pants and caused me to fall.”
Solimar clasped a hand over her mouth. That was what had caused the strange commotion at Doña Flor’s.
Solimar heard them pacing. “Can you imagine if I could use her little gift to my advantage?” said King Aveno. “I could determine my friends from my enemies, who is weak and who is not. I would know the outcome of business negotiations ahead of time. I could change the course of the world to my benefit. The power would be endless.”
“The magic is short-lived,” said Juan Pedro. “And it only works when she is wearing the rebozo.”
“That’s why we need to capture her as soon as possible. Offer a huge reward for anyone who brings her to me. And tell no one about the magic. That is our little secret.”
Juan Pedro chuckled. “Don’t worry. As long as you pay me what I’m worth, we will get along fine. And Solimar couldn’t have gone far. Before we took the hostages, we counted the remaining horses. They are all there, so she’s on foot.”
“She could have tried to follow the caravan,” said King Aveno. “Send guards to search the roadsides all the way to the marketplace. Where else could she have gone?”
“Look at the map,” said Juan Pedro. “There is no other way down the mountain and only a few places to hide, unless she went to seek help from the curandera. Wherever she is, she’s trapped.”
“Send riders to the old woman’s house,” said King Aveno. “Inspect every inch of the property. And post several guards there.”
Solimar heard their footsteps fade away and the library door shut. She couldn’t go back inside the castle. Her mother, Abuela, and the others would be safe for now. Her thoughts raced to her father and brother. Campeón was planning to disguise himself and board the ship the night before the meeting, which would leave Father alone the next morning and heading into a trap. Campeón would want to help. She was sure of it. How could she get word to him and Father? If only she could magically transport herself to Puerto Rivera.
Juan Pedro was right about one thing. She was going back to see Doña Flor, but she had to hurry.
She lit the lantern and made her way quickly through the passageway. When she reached the other end, she blew out the light and slipped out the door.
A loud whistle startled her, and she spun around.
Lázaro and Zarita sat on a nearby boulder.
She ran to them, hugging them tightly. “I’m so glad to see you! How did you find me?”
“When the chaos ensued, Láz scooped me up,” said Zarita. “And given the clues from Abuela, we figured you’d be here sooner or later. And where you go, we go.”
“You figured right. And we have to hurry,” she said, tucking Zarita into her pocket. “Fly directly above me, Lázaro, and be on the lookout for guards.” Gathering the hem of her dress into a giant knot, Solimar ran.
Solimar stumbled up the path, the dress catching on brambles, but she kept running until she reached the plank bridge at the waterfall.
Taking a giant breath, she gripped the ropes and forged ahead as the bridge swayed. On the other side, she bent over, putting her hands on her knees until she could catch her breath. She looked back to make sure no one was following, then hurried across the clearing to the stone house.
