“He looks healthy,” Isabela retorted, signing her name with a flourish she didn’t feel.
“It’s not his health,” the man hissed. “He has had three masters in two years. The first one’s house burned down. The second went mad. The third… well, he was found floating in the river. They say the Indian brings the old gods’ wrath with him. He is a curse.”
Isabela looked at Nahuel. He was being unshackled from the main post and chained to a transport lead. He caught the merchant’s eye and smiled. It was a small, razor-thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I don’t believe in curses,” Isabela said firmly. “I believe in coffee.”
Chapter 2: The Silent Journey
The journey back to La Quebrada del Sol took four hours by carriage. Isabela sat inside, the velvet seats stifling in the heat. Nahuel was tied to the back of the carriage, forced to walk behind.
Halfway there, a sudden thunderstorm broke the heat. Rain lashed down in sheets, turning the dirt road into mud. Isabela signaled the driver to stop.
“He cannot walk in this mud,” she said. “He will slip and break a leg, and then I have wasted my money.”
“Doña, you cannot put him inside,” the driver protested.
“Do it.”
Minutes later, the carriage door opened. Nahuel climbed in, dripping wet, smelling of rain and ozone. He sat on the opposite bench, filling the small space with a powerful presence. He didn’t shiver.
Isabela clutched her rosary. This was improper. It was dangerous. But she was a pragmatist.
“What did you do?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain. “To your other masters.”
Nahuel looked at her. Up close, his eyes were almost black, flecked with gold.
“I survived them,” he said.
His voice was deep, resonant, and shockingly educated. The Spanish he spoke was Castilian, refined, better than the dialect spoken by most of the landowners in Veracruz.
“You speak like a gentleman,” Isabela noted, surprised.
“I was educated by Jesuits in Oaxaca before the government decided my family’s land was better suited for a governor’s cousin,” Nahuel said calmly. “Education is a dangerous thing, Doña. It makes a man understand exactly how much is being stolen from him.”
