265

***

Inés was the first to discover Miguel, who had tumbled out of bed at the break of dawn. She had fallen asleep while sitting on a chaise beside Cárcel to watch over his brother. Cárcel, too, had succumbed to sleep, his head leaning against the wall, while she had unknowingly laid her head on his lap. The sudden thud of Miguel's body hitting the floor had jolted her awake.

Earlier, at the stroke of midnight, Miguel had attempted to leave the room but fainted twice before his parents. Stricken with a high fever, he had since descended into delirium. Duke and Duchess Escalante, unable to bear the sight of their son mutter nonsense in his feverish haze any longer, had retired to their chamber. Cárcel had insisted Inés take her leave to rest as well, but she refused to let him take care of his despairing brother alone in this vast chamber. And so, they had kept watch together until sleep claimed them both. She had no recollection of lying down at all.

Inés hurried to her feet when she heard Miguel groan weakly in his fevered haze.

Cárcel, stirring at the movement, watched her walk over to his brother in a bleary daze. "Leave him, Inés. I'll see to him," he murmured, his voice gravelly with fatigue.

He rose, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Inés was already cradling Miguel's neck with delicate hands. She glanced up at his drawn face and let out a small sigh.

"I'm fine," he said in response to her unspoken concern. She could barely lift Miguel's head to get him to sit up, but Cárcel gathered his brother in his arms like he weighed nothing and placed him back on the bed.

Inés found herself impressed by his strength for a fleeting moment before turning her attention to Miguel. Half-conscious, his eyelids fluttered open before closing again, only to open again moments later.

Cárcel reached out, brushing away his brother's hair from his forehead, his touch devoid of tenderness.

Miguel finally opened his eyes again, this time with a sheen of unshed tears. Yet, no tears fell. "What time..." he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"It's only six o'clock, Miguel," Inés replied softly, glancing at the mantel clock.

Miguel fell silent. Cárcel, who had pulled on the cord by the foot of the bed to call for a servant, couldn't wait for them to arrive and headed outside himself.

"The entombment will begin at eight. Rest a little longer, and we shall wake you in time for it," Inés suggested.

"I'm fine," Miguel answered after a moment's hesitation.

"You are so alike your brother when you say that."

Miguel pressed his lips together, gazing out toward the light streaming through the window. He made another attempt to sit up, but Inés quickly moved to stop him.

"You will find no one in the chapel at this hour."

"I don't mind."

"I understand you wish to see Viviana once more, but..."

"That's not it."

"Miguel-"

"I said that's not it," he snapped, his hand on her arm trembling, as if to push her away. "That's not what I... it's not..." His voice broke under the weight of unspoken sorrow.

"Miguel."

"I am just... furious at that damned girl. All right?"

Inés fell silent.

"I am so angry with Vivi..." he continued, though his voice faltered and his head dropped as if burdened by guilt. "I have so many grievances, so much I wish I could say to her... How could she do this to me, Inés... how could she leave without a word? She refused to see me-not even once. Why? What could have driven her to such cruelty? I don't understand. I traveled to Mendoza, and came here to Almagro, time and again. Yet she refused to see me even once. It wasn't like this before the fall, but suddenly...something changed, and she wouldn't tell me what it was. I wrote to her, asking whether she was angry with me, but she never gave me a proper response."

Inés listened in silence, simply watching him as he spoke.

"Vivi was always like that. When she was merely cross, she would storm toward me, fists clenched as though she meant to strike me. But when she was truly infuriated, she would ignore me entirely. She would pretend like I didn't exist, wouldn't speak to me at all. I hated that more than anything... I got so irritated with her." Amid his rambling, Miguel let out a bitter laugh, his head hanging low. "Why couldn't I just be angry with her? I don't understand. She was the one who pursued me first, ever since we were children. You cannot even imagine how annoying she was. She never once relented, so... I thought it was the same this time... that she was furious with me again..."

Inés waited for him to finish.

"Vivi always hated the idea of me joining the naval academy. I assumed she was furious about my decision, even though it was too late. But this was the first time she refused to see me for so long. I grew uneasy, but still I told myself she was simply angry with me... I had never imagined she was ill. Inés..."

"Yes?"

"I... did not even know she was ill. I believed she was angry with me, that she was refusing to see me because of it... that she was being petty."

"Miguel..."

"That's all I thought of her as she lay dying." His breath came in ragged gasps, his laughter bitter and sharp. He leaned forward, collapsing onto the bed as though his grief was suffocating him, his fingers tugging at his collar.

Inés glanced worriedly toward the door. It seemed that Cárcel had gone to fetch the doctor himself.

"She had such a temper that she wouldn't even reply to my letters when she was furious. But she wrote to me, telling me she was well, that everything was fine. After a while, I noticed that it wasn't her handwriting, that her handmaid must have written her replies for her. How did I not realize? I thought she was simply playing her usual games, pretending all was well and maintaining her dignity by replying, when in truth, she was silently fuming. I even thought it was endearing. But all the while, she was so ill that she could not even lift a pen." His wide shoulders shook as he lay curled up on the bed like a wounded animal. "Do you think she stopped loving me at the end? Is that why she refused to see me one last time? If it had been me, I would have wanted to see her. I would have had so much to say..."

Inés withdrew the hand she had extended toward him at the memory of that strange feeling of déjà vu she had experienced in the chapel at night.

She wondered how Viviana Castagnary must have felt, when Inés had attended her funeral with the excuse that she didn't have much longer to live herself, back in her first, unfamiliar life. Viviana's death had come to her like a welcome opportunity. How must Viviana have felt several days before that?

She cannot have stopped liking you. She had to have missed you as well. She must have had so much to tell you as well. That was how I felt. I wanted to see your brother before I died too... Those memories and the vivid feeling of desperation allowed Inés to come to this conclusion.

Though the memories of that life were still hazy in her head, parts of it were still as vivid as any other. Those particular memories felt as though they had only happened days ago. And so, Inés couldn't dare to speak for Viviana.

Both Viviana and her parents could not have anticipated her death at first. Count Castagnary and his wife must have wanted to keep her seemingly brief illness a secret from the world, and their daughter's betrothed Miguel Escalante was the last person they wanted to be aware of it. They would not have wanted for House Escalante to criticize them in any way when Viviana's illness was not even serious. They would have told her that she would be able to see her beloved once she had recovered. That she should not risk their future together just because she wanted to see him for a moment now. Any parent would have said this to their daughter with such an important engagement on the line.

For the nobles of Ortega, nothing was more horrible than the idea of their child marrying someone on the brink of death, seeing that their value could not be reversed once they were married. As much as the illness might not be life threatening, there were no guarantees. Therefore, it was the norm in Ortega for families to hush up any illnesses of their children if they were about to get married. If Viviana had been an obedient child, she would have understood, but if she had not, it would have been painful for her. The six months of isolation and illness would have felt like a harrowing misery.

But even she could not have known that only death awaited her in the end.

"Viviana simply had no idea that she would never be able to see you again," Inés began carefully. "So please, do not think of her that way in her own home."

Inés knew all about the desperation that accompanied confirmation. If Viviana had been certain of her death, she would have done whatever it took to see Miguel one more time.

He was still hunched over, staring at the floor in silence.

"Just as you said, she must have liked you very much. She must have missed you. That means she simply did not know. Just as you did not..." Inés trailed off. No one had expected Viviana to die.

It was clear that she could do nothing to console him. How could the idea that Viviana must have missed him in her final hours be any consolation to Miguel? That she had died all alone, cooped up and hiding in Almagro to obey her parents, who had simply wanted her to be able to marry him, without any idea that this was the end. That she must have missed him all this time.

But at the very least, Viviana Castagnary would not have wanted Miguel to think that she had ceased to love him.

"None of us can know what lies in store for us. This was an unfortunate accident, Miguel." Inés continued as if to make it up to the girl that she had once used her in one of her past lives. "Though I did not know her very well, even I was aware that she held you very dear. Please do not tell yourself she did not, or that she hated you in any way."

If Cárcel had simply been gone, and she had died before him in Calztela... and she had known that somewhere in the world, Cárcel Escalante was under the impression that she disliked him, she felt like she might have been unable to die at all.

"Then why..." Miguel raised his head, still unable to weep. "Why did she not call for me when she was so ill? Me... the man she would marry. We are getting married next year..." Miguel muttered numbly, sounding as though he had suddenly forgotten the fact that Viviana had died. His eyes were suddenly free of sorrow, so much so that it was unnatural.

A chill ran down Inés's spine at the strange sense of foreboding that gripped her then. But before she could react, Miguel slumped forward.

Just then, Cárcel burst into the room accompanied by a doctor and hurried over to his brother. "Miguel!"

Inés had caught Miguel's heavy, feverish body as he fainted and was in danger of being crushed by him, staring at her husband with wide eyes. Cárcel quickly took him and placed him on his back. The doctor, who had hurried to the other side of the bed, forced Miguel's mouth open to examine his condition.

Cárcel stared at his brother for a while until he was able to breathe evenly before he turned back to his wife. "Were you frightened? Your hands are cold."

Inés nodded slowly. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she spoke up. "Miguel, he... forgot at the end, Cárcel."

"Forgot what?"

"That Viviana is dead."

Cárcel stiffly turned his head and looked down at his younger brother's pale face.