Ximena lays a hand on Elisa’s arm, but my sister ignores her. “But what is being done here that God would wish to cast judgment on?” she says.

“The wedding, maybe?” says the conde. “Though why—”

The door cracks open, and Lady Calla and Lupita enter, followed by the little girl’s nurse, who is anxiously wringing her hands.

“Please join us, Lady Calla,” I say, indicating an empty chair.

Calla pushes the little girl ahead of her. She has donned a clean dress, and most of the wildness has been brushed from her hair, though she still wears the mud-covered slippers. I smile to think of the many times Zito or my attendants tried to clean me up in a hurry, only to discover later that they had missed a bit of bramble or a pair of slippers.

“We are sorry for interrupting you,” Calla says. “Guadalupe-Esteva, go on now. Apologize to the princess.”

I fold my hands in front of me, bemused. Maybe I will ask her to serve as my personal page while I am here.

She walks over to Elisa and drops into a curtsy.

“I’m very sorry that I asked you personal questions, Your Highness,” Lupita says. “It was . . .” She looks up at Lady Calla and gets a nod of encouragement. “It was disrespectful and inappropriate,” she finishes.

“You are forgiven,” Elisa tells her graciously, with no reprimand and no instruction.

Just like that. My jaw clenches. It is well and good to be so indulgent, to never demand recriminations or consequences, when one does not have to consider the responsibilities of ruling.

“Are you excited about the wedding?” Elisa asks the little girl.

“I was supposed to be a flower girl, but there are no flowers.”

“We’ll find some dried flowers for you to carry,” Calla says, resting her hand on the girl’s head.

“They aren’t the same,” Lupita says.

“No, they aren’t,” Elisa says, pulling something from the little girl’s hair. “Where did this nettle come from?”

“By the creek,” Lupita says.

“And I bet there were red flowers on those stems,” Elisa says. “Scarlet hedge nettle is so tough that nothing can stop it from blooming. I saw huge clumps of it on our way here.”

“It’s just a weed,” Lupita says.

“It’s a beautiful weed,” Elisa answers. “And the perfect flower for you to carry, for it is like the people of Khelia, strong and unstoppable, capable of blooming and thriving where nothing else can grow.”

I study my sister thoughtfully. I didn’t even notice the flowers she speaks of.

“You may gather some tomorrow,” Calla says. “Now it is time for bed.”

She gestures for the nurse to lead Lupita away. The girl practically bounces out the door, listing all the places she has seen scarlet hedge nettle.