The Stars of Heaven

by Jessica Dall

  “I don’t believe that’s up to you.”

  “But—”

  “Cecília, we are both here because of the minister’s good will. Do you want to lose that?”

  Cecília pursed her lips, but she knew better than to argue more. If she couldn’t convince her uncle to plead her case, she didn’t stand a chance with Senhor Carvalho. “How long do I have to stay in Setúbal?”

  “As long as you’re told,” Tio Aloisio said. “I’m sure there are plenty of places for you to get into trouble down there as well.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Águeda will help you pack. I’ll make sure you have everything you need for however long you’ll stay. You should be ready to leave come morning.”

  “Morning?”

  “Be glad the king is away from court until tonight. Remember, Diogo Mendonça was given three hours to leave the capital once his exile was announced.”

  Cecília crossed her arms, aware but not entirely able to care that she looked like a sulking child as she slunk off to her room. As she looked around her room of the past two years, she tried to console herself.

  It isn’t the end of the world. You aren’t being exiled. It isn’t so far that you’ll never come back. Though Father Malagrida had been banished from the capital, he had hardly been living in the far reaches of the Amazon. Some of the most important families still kept Father Malagrida as their personal confessor, not in the least Leonor Tomásia de Távora, the marchioness herself. She certainly wouldn’t allow Father Malagrida to live in squalor.

  “Learn, oh Lisbon, that the destroyers of our houses, palaces, churches, and convents, the cause of the death of so many people... are your abominable sins.” The memory of the priest’s sermon and piercing eyes resounded in Cecília’s mind and made the hair rise on her arms. After living with Tio Aloisio for so long, she wasn’t certain she could face Father Malagrida, not when three-year-old words could still make her squirm.

  Then again, maybe that means you need a spiritual retreat. Truly.

  Forcing her mind away from the topic, Cecília focused on the room around her, trying to think what she would need with her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cecília’s head pounded as if her heart beat directly behind her eyes. Rubbing her temple with one hand, she moved to the window and looked out. There was no moon at all, leaving the world entirely black past the lanterns that lit the Real Barraca and the pinpricks of stars. Luís wouldn’t be out by the hedge. He didn’t know how to make his way during a new moon and assumed she didn’t, either. She could at least thank the Lord for small miracles. With the king still away—gone to visit his mistress, Teresa Távora, from what Cecília had heard whispered—Francisco’s forthcoming banishment hadn’t yet been announced, and she didn’t want to be the one to have to tell Luís what was happening, especially knowing that if she did, she would have to explain how she knew.

  The jumpiness in her limbs progressed to shaking, and she unlatched the window.

  She had just pushed herself up on the sill when a pounding on the hallway door rattled the entire apartment. Cecília started. Catching herself against the wooden wall, she regained her balance and eased back down.

  By the time she made it to the door of her room, Tio Aloisio was already talking to someone in the hall. “What the Devil is all the racket?”

  “The king!” a breathless voice Cecília didn’t recognize said. “He’s been shot!”

  “What?” All the anger in Tio Aloisio’s tone disappeared in an instant.

  “He’s just been brought... Senhor Carvalho... He...”

  Tio Aloisio was already pulling his coat over his nightshirt and grabbing for his hat to cover his wigless head. “Lead the way.”

  As her uncle disappeared into the hall, Cecília took a step forward, hesitated, then followed. If the king had been shot, she doubted anyone would care that she was out in her bed dress. She shut the room door behind her and looked for where her uncle had gone. A glimpse of him turning the corner caught her eye. She picked up her skirt to run after him.

  Luís appeared at the intersection, and Cecília stopped short to avoid a collision. His hand went to her shoulder all the same, as if to steady her. “You’ve heard?”

  “The king?” She looked after where her uncle was headed. “Someone said—”

  “He’s been shot,” Luís confirmed. “Out on the road.”

  “He was out on the road?” She brought her eyes back to Luís’s face.

  “In his carriage. Someone fired on it. I don’t know much else, but they’ve brought him back here.”

  “He’s alive?”

  Luís nodded, though his expression was drawn. “For now.”

  Cecília’s stomach pulled into knots. She tried to picture what it would mean if the king died from his wounds and Princesa Maria became Dona Maria I. Father Malagrida would be brought back to court. That much was certain. Senhor Carvalho would likely take the priest’s place, exiled from Lisbon, if he was lucky. The princess’s loathing of the man was no secret. Tio Aloisio could take to sailing again if he wished or return to his vineyard, but Cecília would have to switch allegiances. She would have to devote herself to Francisco or go back to her grandparents, if Avô Santa Rita would have anything to do with her. Luís wouldn’t be able to have anything to do with her. If she couldn’t stay with Francisco or go to her grandparents, she would have to consider a convent.

  “Cecília?” Luís’s hand tightened around her arm, snapping her back to reality.

  She met his eyes.

  “You’ve gone as pale as a sheet.” He watched her and took a step closer, as if preparing for her to faint. “Do you need to sit?”

  Cecília looked around him to where her uncle had been led then shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She nodded and turned off to see what was happening. The buzz of voices grew as she worked her way through the halls with Luís close behind her. A few more corners, and they reached the crowd that had formed at the doors to the royal apartments.

  “Make way! Make way!” someone yelled, and the crowd parted enough to let the royal physician inside.

  Graça ran up one of the other halls with her father, and her eyes caught Cecília’s. Her father shouldered his way along the side to where Tio Aloisio was, and Graça headed Cecília’s way. “What’s happened? Do they know anything?”

  “We just made it as well.” Cecília shook her head. “Luís said the king was shot in his carriage. We don’t know more than that.”

  Graça’s forehead wrinkled. “How could this happen? Who would want to shoot—”

  “He’s the king,” Luís said, his eyes on the door as Senhor Carvalho slipped back into the hall. “There are always people who could benefit from a shift in power.”

  Someone called Luís’s name, and Cecília looked quickly enough to see some of the Vilhena family. Luís glanced back at her, his face conflicted.

  “Go.” She nodded.

  He squeezed her hand, the hold low enough that no one would likely have been able to see it, before shifting to make his way through the crowd.

  Graça watched him leave before switching back to give Cecília a look.

  “We weren’t together. I met him in the hall,” Cecília said, answering the silent question and pulling her bed dress slightly tighter to her body before scanning the men closer to the door. Senhor Carvalho was easy to spot, as tall as he was, so Cecília took Graça’s hand and tried to find a way closer to the doors.

  “I don’t want a word of this leaving this hallway until we have those responsible impaled on stakes in front of Junqueira,” Senhor Carvalho said in a low-yet-harsh voice that left no doubt to his seriousness. “Am I understood? The rest of the country is not to know the king is injured.”

  “Yes, Minister.” A man Cecília recognized as a guard strode off, and Senhor Carvalho turned to give his next decrees. His eyes glanced off Cecília and Gra�
�a, pausing just long enough to say he had registered their presence before they moved to some of the men standing about.

  Cecília swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Do you hear that?” Graça tugged Cecília toward the door, and she realized she had never released Graça’s hand.

  She tried to focus as they pressed against the wall next to the doors. Groans floated through the wood planks, muted by the tapestries but audible in the mess of conversations.

  “Is that the king?” Graça looked at Cecília with large eyes.

  “It has to be?” Cecília listened for any other sound that could give some hint as to the king’s state. If he was groaning, though, it at least meant he was still conscious. She would take that for the time being.

  A hand touched her back, and she started. Turning her head, she saw Tio Aloisio suddenly beside her.

  “Go back to bed, Cilinha,” he said then added, “and you, Ana Graça. It will be a long night.”

  Cecília started, “But—”

  “And you might as well tell Águeda to unpack your things.” He lowered his voice, his eyes drilling into Cecília. “I don’t think anyone will be going anywhere in the morning.”

  CECÍLIA WORRIED THE cross around her neck between her fingers, vaguely wondering if she had managed to rub out any remaining imperfections in her anxiety.

  Or maybe I’m just making new dents. She still couldn’t bring herself to stop. The entire court had been on edge for days, speaking in whispered voices between kneeling in the chapel to pray for the king’s life and hovering outside the royal apartments for news. Dom José was still alive, but how precariously, Cecília didn’t know. Dona Mariana, his queen, had been made regent if nothing else, and Senhor Carvalho was barely a blur around the palace as he led the enquiry, looking for whoever had thrown the world into such disarray.

  “It will be fine.” Luís caught her hand gently to force it back down into her lap. “You’re going to work yourself into a state if you keep worrying like this.”

  “I can’t help it.” She stood from the couch in the antechamber. “Everything is just so uncertain. I can’t stand—”

  “You need to take a breath.”

  She started pacing.

  Luís shifted to the edge of the cushion, resting his forearms on his knees. “Cecília, please—”

  “What are they saying with you?”

  Luís frowned. “With me?”

  “On your side of the palace. With the Vilhenas.”

  “Same as over here. No one knows anything.”

  “What are they saying for i-if the king...”

  “The king will be fine.”

  “And if he isn’t?” Cecília snapped.

  Luís stood, catching both of her hands to force her to stop. “You need to stop. You’ll make yourself ill.”

  She dropped her voice. “What will happen to me if it all changes? I won’t be able to stay at court.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “With whom? They’ll sweep me out with the rest of my side of the palace. I’ll have nowhere to go.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is!”

  “Lindeza, trust me. It will be fine.” Luís caught her cheek, leaning in to kiss her.

  The door opened before he could make contact. He took a sharp step back as Tio Aloisio came over the threshold. He paused as he spotted Luís then closed the door. Still facing away, he took off his hat and placed it on the small table there. “Is there something I can help you with, Senhor Terra?”

  “Senhor Durante.” Luís pulled at his jacket to straighten it, though it only made him look more nervous. “I was just having a word with your niece.”

  He glanced at Cecília then raised an eyebrow at Luís. “Alone?”

  Luís stumbled a few syllables before Cecília stepped in.

  “Águeda just went into the other room, Tio.”

  Whether or not Tio Aloisio believed the lie didn’t matter. She was more focused on stopping Luís from doing something idiotic in his fumbling. Tio Aloisio nodded but kept his eyes on Luís. “I’m sure my niece would thank you for considering how things might look to others. Your being in here, alone with her.”

  “Of course, Senhor Durante. My apologies.” Luís picked up his hat from the couch. “Pleasure speaking with you, senhorita.”

  Cecília lowered her head as he moved out the door. She waited for his footsteps to disappear down the hall then turned back to her uncle. “Don’t chase him away too sternly. He’s how I get half of my information.”

  “Does he know that?” Tio Aloisio moved to his desk.

  “Of course not.” She resumed pacing.

  “Then why was he in here alone with you?”

  “You know what the Vilhenas think of us. He can’t exactly just come up to me in the hall.” She saw the skepticism on Tio Aloisio’s face as she doubled back. “You can stop looking at me like I’m a trollop. I haven’t had to do anything. He genuinely cares about me.”

  “They always seem to.”

  She slowed to hold his eyes.

  “Just an observation about the company you keep when you’re flirting with trouble.”

  “I’m flirting with trouble? You’re in all of this deeper than I am if His Highness—”

  “The king will be fine.” Tio Aloisio turned toward the desk once again. “Senhor Nunes says the worst has passed.”

  “Dona Mariana is still regent.”

  “Because he’s recovering.”

  Cecília stopped pacing entirely. “Truly? He’ll be fine?”

  “So says the first minister, and I have no reason to doubt him.”

  The panic that had kept her moving left in a rush. Cecília managed to sit before her legs gave out. She breathed the words “thank the Lord” as she crossed herself.

  “Better news, they have two men in custody.”

  “The assassins?”

  “They’re being questioned now. I imagine we’ll hear something soon.”

  Cecília nodded, wishing she was still in her bed dress and not laced into her stays. She needed a good breath—no, a gulp—of air, and the stiff support suddenly felt too constricting. Placing her hands over her stomacher, she leaned as far forward as her clothing allowed.

  “He isn’t going to let this happen again.”

  Cecília didn’t look up as she still tried for air. “The king?”

  “No,” Tio Aloisio said, his tone saying he could only have meant Senhor Carvalho. “He’s not going to leave us to end up in this position again, should something happen to the king.”

  Cecília’s eyes slid to his, though she didn’t straighten. “What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s going to ask for something. I don’t know what yet, but you’re going to have to say yes. We’re all going to have to say yes. Without hesitation.”

  She shook her head slightly. “What does that even mean?”

  “We’ll have to wait to find out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despite Tio Aloisio’s warning, Senhor Carvalho didn’t seem interested in contacting Cecília or her uncle once news of the arrests began to circulate throughout court. Nor did he call them when the two men arrested were summarily tried and hanged before the populace was even alerted that there had been an attempt on the king’s life. After waiting another day to see if anything happened, Cecília allowed herself to relax at least enough to plaster her courtier smile back in place and appear suitably normal in front of others.

  It was already a week into September, but the weather was immeasurably pleasant. The mess of people in the gardens said the court agreed. Cecília stayed out of any large groups, aiming for the far end of the manicured hedges. She hoped fewer people would be in the winding dead ends if they were hoping to make the most of the sun and warm breeze. After finding a few quiet conversations and one less-than-proper liaison, Cecília heard Graça’s and Luís’s familiar voices.

  “But have you heard who�
�s been implicated?” Graça said in an excited whisper. “The Duke of Aveiro, the Távoras—”

  “People are looking for scandal where there is none.” Luís sounded much less concerned with being overheard. “Pedro Teixeria has insulted the duke numerous times, and anyone who’s met Aveiro knows the man has a temper. I’m more inclined to believe Mr. Hays’s theory.”

  “Since when have you been friends with Mr. Hays?” Graça sounded suitably skeptical of Luís’s connection to the British envoy.

  “I’ve barely spoken to the man, but he’s been talking the most sense in the midst of all this. The king wasn’t in the royal carriage. It seems entirely likely that Aveiro didn’t even know the king was there when he sent those men after Teixeria. An attempted murder, certainly, but regicide? They were two men shooting at a random carriage.”

  “Then why would the assassins confess to treason?”

  “A man will confess to just about anything when put to the screws long enough. And look at who was in charge of the questioning.”

  “Are you implicating Senhor Carvalho in something?”

  It seemed a good moment to step in. Cecília turned around the last hedge with her carefully manufactured smile. “I thought I heard you two.”

  “Cecília.” Luís stood from the little wooden bench placed amongst the hedges.

  A flicker of annoyance moved over Graça’s face before she looked at Cecília and smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much.” Cecília nodded, sticking to the story Tio Aloisio had been telling to excuse her absence. “Took cold is all, I think.”

  “I said you were going to worry yourself ill.” Luís took a few steps closer to her.

  “Well, I’m entirely better now. No harm done.” She looked back at Graça, searching the woman’s face for any sign of what she imagined her own looked like when trying to find information. “What have I missed?”

  “People trying to make things far more interesting than they likely are.” Luís shook his head.

  “You seem entirely too quick to dismiss things.” Graça sent him a displeased look from her spot on the bench before returning to address Cecília. She either was not one of Senhor Carvalho’s spies, or she was at least as good as Cecília at hiding her true thoughts. “Before they were hanged, the two men—the assassins—confessed to an entire plot against the king’s life. They were paid to assassinate him in order for the Duke of Aveiro to stage a coup d’état. It supposedly goes all the way to Leonor Távora.”