Page 70 of Castle of the Cursed
“Ah, Estela, how-are-you?” he asks, making each word sound like its own sentence.
“¿Dónde está Felipe?”
“Ayer se fue a Oviedo a visitar unos amigos. Vuelve en unos días.” He’s visiting friends in Oviedo.
“¿Cuándo habló con él?” I ask Arturo when he last spoke with his son.
“Tempranito esta mañana. Me llamó desde ahí.” Felipe called him early this morning.
Relief comes first, followed by confusion. After what happened last night, Felipe just took off? He didn’t bother to check on me, or tell the authorities what happened?
“¿Quieres que le pase algún mensaje?” prods Arturo after a few seconds of silence.
“No, gracias,” is all I manage to get out before hanging up. I have no message for Felipe because I have no words.
I desperately need to take a bath, but I can barely keep my eyes open. The loss of blood, the lack of energy, all the food I just scarfed down… it’s too much, and I’m overcome with sleep.
I barely make it to my bed before passing out.
I awaken to twin full moons. Sebastián’s eyes.
“You did not return before sunup,” he says, his voice low and measured. He is seated at my side, in an armchair he’s moved closer to the bed. “You have lost a lot of blood.”
His tone is more melodic today, like it’s spiked with something I can’t identify, but at least I don’t hear hints of hostility anymore. “What happened?” he asks.
“Beatríz has a twin brother,” I say, sitting up gingerly. “Teo is the brujo behind the black smoke. Felipe was just the messenger—he met me at the woods and tried talking me out of going. But then the black smoke spread, and next thing I knew, I was facing my uncle, and Felipe had been knocked out.”
“You encountered the brujo?” asks Sebastián, his tone still hard to pin down. His voice has shifted into an even less familiar register, like a musician reaching for a new note.
“He bled me from both arms under the full moon, chanting No hay luz en Oscuro.” I say it quickly like that will help me not hear it.
Sebastián’s gaze jumps to my arms. “May I?” he murmurs.
My belly flips when I nod. His cold fingers are gentle as he takes my left arm and pulls back my long sleeve, revealing an ugly bruise where Teo drew my blood. Sebastián doesn’t say anything, and his head is dipped down, so I can’t see his eyes.
“This must be why the brujo has not risked approaching the castle.” His hands pull away from mine.
“What do you mean?”
“He knows if he comes here, I will kill him.”
His voice is pure winter, and I feel like I’m seeing the Iron Prince. “But you can’t touch Beatríz,” I say, “so what makes Teo different?”
“If he is the spell’s caster, we are bound to each other. Even if he has found a way to protect himself, I do not need to touch him to throw a blade through his heart.”
Hearing Sebastián speak so coolly about murder makes my gut clench.
“How did you get out alive?” he asks me, and I think I hear a flicker of suspicion.
“I woke up this morning outside the castle,” I say, squaring my chest in anticipation of having to battle Sebastián’s distrust again.
But there’s no coldness in his expression. If anything, what’s throwing me off is his newfound concern.
“Most likely the brujo still wants something from you.” As he says this, Sebastián looks almost worried.
“What more could he want from me?” I ask, my exhale shaky.
“From us,” he amends. “There must be a reason we were brought together.”
