Their eyes locked, and despite her suspicions, Dani couldn’t look away. The moment gathered intensity as it hung between them unbroken, and something warm pooled in her belly.
“When I was a kid,” Carmen said, her voice low and a little husky in a way that made Dani sure she wasn’t alone in her feelings, “I used to ride with my family to deliver fruit to the marketplaces. There was this girl whose mama worked in one of the stalls, and she’d always hide behind piles of platanos when we got there.”
Dani listened, never looking away, understanding that this story wasn’t a logical continuation of their conversation. It was a confidence. An offering. Something Dani alone could keep.
“She was beautiful,” Carmen said with a wistful smile. “I remember thinking all I wanted to do was hold her hand. Just to see what it felt like . . .” Whether unconsciously or not, her eyes darted down.
Dani had never been so aware of her fingers before.
“Anyway, one day I was helping stack lemons and she ran up and took one, right out of my hand. I chased her through the aisles, following that little spot of bright yellow, and when I finally caught her, I took the lemon back. But she didn’t let go, so for a minute we just stood there, both our hands on the same lemon. And it felt like the world was opening up.”
“So you knew,” Dani said softly, glancing around the still-empty room. “Even then?”
“What?” Carmen asked, the tiniest lift at the corner of her lips. “That I wanted to hold hands with girls?”
The way Dani fidgeted slightly beneath the weight of the question was answer enough for Carmen, whose smile widened.
“Yes,” she said, almost a whisper, and without thinking of what was at stake, or what Carmen was planning, Dani slid her palm across the chair between them and into Carmen’s waiting fingers.
They tangled there, just for a moment, and Dani’s heart beat so hard she was sure Carmen could feel it in her palm. Her eyes drifted up Carmen’s body, from their hands, laced together, to her eyes, which were still on Dani’s face. There was nothing behind her eyes but wonder. Awe. How could one person be so open and so mysterious all at once?
When the men’s room door creaked, they pulled apart guiltily.
But the feeling stayed.
18
Lust is not a word in the Primera lexicon.
—Medio School for Girls Handbook, 14th edition
THE NEXT MORNING, DANI WAS walking the garden, trying to commit the dimensions of the house to memory, counting the windows and doors, paying special attention to any access point that wasn’t in view of the street.
But when she passed Mateo’s ground-floor suite, he was on the private patio, sneering at the newspaper. Dani reined in her calculating, measuring, and assessing and let her posture relax. A casual stroll through the garden. She hoped he wouldn’t see her; between the knowledge that she was actively working against him and her confusing thoughts about Carmen, she had little mental energy to deal with Mateo’s moods.
Not that she had a choice.
“Daniela, good,” he called, waving her over. Her feet obeyed his beckoning hand reluctantly, like there were weights in the bottoms of her shoes. “I’ve had a letter from your father’s doctor,” said Mateo when she reached him, the crease still visible between his eyebrows. “Your father is being sent home in the morning to continue care, but he should recover.” He was preoccupied, barely glancing at the letter, still engrossed in his paper.
The official hospital seal was visible on the discarded envelope, and Dani was grudgingly impressed with Alex’s cover job. She could only hope Sota was as lucky as her fictional father.
“That’s wonderful news,” Dani said, layering the concerned, exhausted daughter over her amusement. “It was so helpful to them to have me there yesterday; thank you again.”
“Mhm,” Mateo replied, though she was certain he hadn’t heard a word. “Anyway, there was a note from your parents as well. They asked that you don’t risk another visit, given the climate, and I have to say I agree.”
“Of course not, señor,” she said demurely. “I did what I went there to do.”
“Good,” said Mateo. “Because with these miscreants on the loose . . .” He shook the newspaper at her, his eyes blazing. “. . . who knows what might happen next.”
Dani watched Mateo, thinking of Sota’s mission, trying to find any weak spots she hadn’t already noted. He had been the last person to see Jasmín, as far as Dani knew, and if he was hiding something, La Voz would want to know. That was her job now. To know him. To know his secrets and his weaknesses.
To use them to make him pay for his cruelty.
“You should have seen those bumbling old idiots in the government building yesterday,” he said, oblivious to Dani’s traitorous thoughts, jerking his head at an empty chair. “They spend so much time waffling about what to do next.”
Dani sat across from him, remembering what her maestras had told her. Silence was a weapon. She said nothing. If she played her cards right, this could be more useful than measuring the house by a long shot.
“As if it’s not obvious what should come next,” he said, the chill in his voice cracking, making way for his anger. “As if it hasn’t been for a decade.” His voice had a serrated edge to it again, the one that told Dani he was close to losing control.
Carmen and Sota faded in her thoughts as she sharpened her focus. She would have to tread very carefully here. “That must be frustrating,” she said.
“Frustrating doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he said, abandoning his café to pace around the patio. “There were explosions, set off by a radical group, within the government complex. What more does it take to provoke a drastic response around here?”
“Well, they did kill or arrest all of them,” Dani said, trying to keep her voice mild, looking down at her hands as if this were a typical conversation topic.
“Not all of them,” Mateo said darkly. “And anyway, that’s not what I mean.”
Dani retreated back into her silence. He was clearly more interested in an audience than a conversation partner, but what he would get was a spy. Dani cataloged every movement, every twitch of the skin beside his eye. This was not the composed, cold man she had come to know. Something had changed. But what?
Mateo turned his attention to her, stopping the pacing, focusing on her in a way that made her skin crawl. His eyes were dark and hooded, like he hadn’t slept in days. She had never seen him so disheveled.
“I’m talking about really going after them.” His voice was low and dangerous, daring her to object. “Going on the offensive instead of just reacting when they attack us. I’m talking about taking them all down.”
Dani told herself to breathe normally, not to curl in on herself, to be a spy and not a scared girl from the wrong side of the wall. She had claimed a power over him, and he was none the wiser. She only had to stay still.
The god of steel was in her spine and her throat, and together, they waited.
Beyond the well-groomed lawn, all was calm, the leaves in their patch of jungle swaying gently in the breeze. So strange, Dani thought. That the world can still be beautiful, even in the midst of all this.
When Mateo stopped pacing, staring out into the trees, she stood slowly and crossed to stand beside him.
Up close, his eyes were more bloodshot than before, the skin around his lips dry and cracked. He stood perfectly still, looking straight. Then, as if something had erupted inside him, he clenched his firsts and let out a frustrated growl that echoed across the garden.
It took every ounce of Dani’s restraint to keep from flinching.
“I’ve told my father what needs to be done! I’ve told them all! Right up to the president himself! Time and time again! I’ve told them that our god chose us. That he chose us to prosper and that he’s never wrong!”
Dani’s blood chilled at this. The sentiment wasn’t new, but from the mouth of someone with real power to wield, in this ragged,
almost hysterical tone, it was terrifying. She had never known Mateo to be religious, besides in the cursory way all inner-islanders masked their greed with worship for the Sun God. But something had clearly shifted. He needed a justification for whatever he was planning, and he had found one.
“They still resist,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair until it stood on end. “They say it’s all too radical, that the people won’t support it. But hang the people! When have they ever known what was best for them?”
Dani stood very still, wondering if he remembered she was here. Wondering how much he’d say if he didn’t.
“They’ve seen it now, though,” he said, calming himself a little, smoothing his hair back into place. “They’ve seen the explosions; their wives and children have been in immediate danger. . . . Surely now they’ll understand why I had to . . .”
But a stinging fly flew into Dani’s face then, and she was forced to swat at it. Mateo glanced up with those wild eyes, realizing exactly what he was giving away, and to whom. In a typical marriage, a Primera would be privy to all these thoughts—would have input and influence, would be his partner. But that was never the way Mateo had operated, and Dani was more sure than ever: it was because he had something to hide.
His face closed off at once, becoming smooth and reflective again as he looked at her, and Dani knew she would get nothing else from him today.
“Well, it all goes over my head, of course, señor,” she said. “I just hope the violence stops soon. I’d like to be able to visit the marketplace again without fear of being incinerated.”
His face relaxed a little at this. It was just the sort of shallow concern he expected from her as a woman. She’d put him back at ease. “Well, Daniela,” he said in an ominous tone that still managed to be condescending, “I have a feeling you won’t have to wait long.”
He was put together again, the wild edge gone from his voice and appearance. Mateo Garcia was just a man working hard for the safety of the people. A man losing sleep out of concern for his wives and the country he loved. A man with faith in his god and the power to create change.
A man people might listen to, if they were afraid enough.
At that moment, Dani wished she could kill him. Just take the glass-topped table and shatter it over his head. But there would only be another leader if she did, she reasoned. And one she couldn’t watch so closely. She had to be smart.
Carmen walked up then, a flower behind her ear, unaware of the tension between them. Dani tried to focus on Carmen’s expression, not to get lost in her lips, or the way her shoulder was escaping from her loose top. Did she glance at Mateo in any particular way? Did she seem at all like a girl plotting an assassination on behalf of her mother-in-law?
Mateo certainly noticed her. Was Dani imagining the way he angled his body toward her? The way he seemed to rake his eyes across her chest? The glass table caught the sun, and Dani had to calm her pulse. It would be so easy . . .
“Roberta gave me this,” Carmen said. “Apparently it just came for you, señor.” She held out a folded letter, and Dani watched it change hands, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
Mateo unfolded the note, and only then did Dani allow herself to look at Carmen.
“Morning,” she said.
“Primera,” Carmen answered. “Lovely day.”
“Beautiful . . .”
Mateo swore loudly, and Carmen released her lower lip from between her teeth. Dani looked up as she did, taking in the hard lines of Mateo’s face gone solid as stone.
“Is everything alright?” Dani asked, taking a surreptitious step back.
But he didn’t answer, just looked between the two of them like he’d never seen them before. Without a word, he stormed inside, the double doors to his room slamming behind him until the glass panes rattled.
Dani and Carmen stood, frozen, until they heard his car engine rev from the front of the house and the sound of tires squealing out of the driveway.
“What in the—” Carmen began, but Dani interrupted her with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head.
Mateo had always been prejudiced, cold, pickled in his own privilege. Sure, as of late there had been an edge to him, something that felt like a warning, but until this morning she had never thought him truly reckless. She could no longer predict what he would do, and that made him twice as dangerous.
Dani had been worried for her safety more than once since she arrived here, but today, with Mama Garcia an unknown, Mateo losing his composure, and Carmen’s loyalties anyone’s guess, Dani was starting to feel cornered. Afraid.
Part of her had hoped that committing to La Voz would put an end to the feeling that someone always had the power to hurt her. Ruin her. She was braver and more determined than ever, but the fear was still there. Maybe it would always be.
“I think I’ll take breakfast in my room,” she said.
“I’ll bring it up?” Carmen asked, hopeful.
“Don’t bother, just send one of the girls,” Dani said with a wave of her hand, trying to ignore the disappointment that weighed down her smile. “You should take the morning off, too; who knows when he’ll be back.”
Carmen nodded once. “Good idea,” she said. “I’ll let them know to bring it up. Have a nice day, Primera.”
“You too,” Dani replied.
In her room, the walls were too close, the whispers of what could go wrong too loud. Was someone from La Voz watching her now? Sota was injured, and Alex was probably still in the city watching the safe house while he recovered. What was the protocol if Mateo had found her out? If Mama Garcia was getting closer to making a move to silence Dani? Would someone swoop in and pull her out before things could get too bad? Or would she be just another sympathizer arrested for treason?
Would she disappear on her way to prison, too? Like Jasmín? And if so, would she deserve it for everything she’d done?
Everything she hadn’t. . . .
She paced until her legs grew tired, still sore from her scramble across the rooftops. There was nothing more to do. Mateo was gone doing gods knew what. Mama Garcia could be plotting her demise at this very moment with whoever the letter had been written to.
And Carmen . . .
Dani’s body was wound like a watch and ticking too fast, and she wandered into her bedroom’s private bathroom without deciding to.
The water in the shower was scalding, and it felt good against her palm. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of hot water—Primeras bathed in cold water that sharpened their minds; they didn’t indulge in sensual pleasures.
When she climbed into the spray, her body was alive in every place the water touched it. The sensation was so overwhelming she nearly had to step away, but she forced herself to stay inside. To let the heat and pressure loosen the tension in her muscles.
Dani closed her eyes, seeing the pallor of Sota’s face in his sickbed, her gory imagining of Mateo on his patio, glass raining down around him as his blood painted lines down his neck.
She saw Carmen. Carmen in her robe. Carmen in sky-blue silk. Carmen asking is this okay until Dani thought she’d come apart at the sound of it.
The restlessness she’d brought with her here was only growing, the water reminding her body of everything it wasn’t supposed to feel. For a good Primera, the sense of touch was purely utilitarian, something to tell you if the plate was hot to avoid a burn, something to remind you which clothes to wear for which weather.
But Dani wasn’t a good Primera anymore.
Carmen with a serpent’s tail, taking off one article of clothing at a time. Carmen’s breath against her neck in the tree-filled glade just before the gunshots started. Carmen’s hand in hers, fingers tangled, pulses pounding against each other’s . . .
Dani closed her eyes tight, the instincts born of her training demanding she shut out the images and the sensations that followed them. But Carmen was branded on the backs of Dani’s eyelids like she was here in this stone-tiled stall
, wet hair streaming down her back.
Before she could stop them, Dani’s hands were running through her own cropped hair. Down her neck. Across her chest and down, down onto the skin of her belly.
There was a heat building deep within her. Deeper than her muscles or her bones or her pounding pulse. It was a primal, secret ache that she’d never allowed herself to feel before this moment.
Her fingers knew where to find the source of that feeling, and when they went wandering, Dani didn’t stop them. The shame, hardwired to anything pleasurable by half a lifetime of training, sent alarm bells running through her at every pulse point. But she didn’t stop. Not even with a hundred maestras’ voices screaming that she was on the road to ruin.
She couldn’t stop.
In only a few moments, she was lost to the sensations. The voices were gone. In only a few moments—before the water had gone lukewarm against her skin—the world had cracked open, and Dani swore she could see the stars.
Back in her room, the restlessness replaced by something fizzing and slow, Dani fell into her bed and slept without dreaming.
When she woke, it was the dark of the quietest part of the night. And as if she’d seen it in a dream she couldn’t remember, Dani knew what she needed to do. In her desk was the bag of stones, the note and cards Sota had sent her at key moments. The piece of stationery her pen had bitten into as she’d forged a letter from the hospital.
From her closet, Dani took a dark scarf she’d never worn and wrapped the precious contents inside it, already mourning them. They wouldn’t survive the night, but with any luck, she would. If Mateo had gotten wind of her indiscretions, if Mama Garcia was ready to strike . . .
Whoever they were, if they came for her in the morning, she wouldn’t make it easy for them to prove what she’d done.
She would become a hundred shades.
She would lie until they believed.
But before she destroyed it all, it was time to get the answer she needed most. No matter the risk. Once and for all.
This time, when she reached the door, she knocked without hesitation. Carmen answered with sleep-tousled hair, her body filling her pale silk nightgown like water in a drought-thirsty riverbed. The fear in her eyes softened to something smoldering the moment she registered Dani’s presence.
We Set the Dark on Fire Page 20