“No, you listen to me. We’re here for Rosalita, not revenge.”

“He killed my brother,” Kiki presses. “He killed Alejandro.”

I don’t want to say it, but I must. “Alejandro is dead, Kiki. Rosalita may still be alive.”

Her face hardens, as if turning to stone. Like the men in those Greek tragedies she likes to read me. The one with the cursed woman with the snakes for hair. I never did like that one.

But what I’m saying needs to be said.

“You can’t save him now. But we can save Rosalita.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t understand.” And then she hits me with her finest blow. “He wasn’t your brother.”

I rear back, stung. Her wrist drops from my hand.

She wastes no time slipping the bridle over the horse’s head. The mare paws at the ground, seemingly excited to get out of her stall and run. Kiki swings herself—gown and all—up onto the horse’s back.

“I’m sorry, Ana.” But she doesn’t look at me when she says it. Her heels dig into the horse’s flank and she’s off.

“Kiki, wait!”

My whispered shout goes unanswered.

She’s already gone. And now, I am alone.

CHAPTER 31

Kiki

The wind flies through my hair, whipping it about my face with a fury that keeps me warm despite the brisk night air and the impracticalities of my gown.

You shouldn’t have left her behind.

I push the thought away. Ana will be fine.

You left her all alone in a viper’s den.

But the viper left. I saw it with my own eyes.

Did you? Or did you just hear it?

That is the thought that gives me pause.

I seat myself more firmly on the mare’s back. She is a good mount, fast but with a nice steady gait. At the canter, there’s hardly a shred of discomfort despite the fact that I am riding a horse astride while wearing approximately seven thousand layers of skirts and their underlying architecture.

I did not see Cristobal leave. I just assumed he had.

The horse slows as she feels my indecision emanate through my seat. Horses are clever. They can tell when their rider is unsettled, often before the rider does. They know when you aren’t secure in your seat, when your balance is off even if just a hair.

She slows, as if giving me time to appreciate what a tremendous fool I have been.

I glance behind, but already, the villa is but a speck of light in the darkness. The windows are all ablaze for the ball, but I have ridden so far and so fast that I can hardly see it. Trees obscure the faraway illumination and clouds all but block whatever scant starlight penetrates them.

Go back.

But the same feelings war within me.