The relationship between Primera and Seguda is not one of competition, but of harmony. Their complementary skills form a perfect whole.
—Medio School for Girls Handbook, 14th edition
THE NUMBNESS DANI HAD FELT earlier was nothing compared to her shock when Carmen was called.
Where Dani’s name had drawn whispers, too-polite claps, and eyes like daggers, Carmen’s name caused hysteria. The girls surrounding her rushed in, embracing her, shrieking, even sobbing. The ones not lucky enough to sit so close whistled instead, applauding until the sound echoed from the walls and the headmatron was forced to call order.
Carmen rose from her admirers like a bird taking flight. Her smile was radiant, her dress an ostentatious bright gold.
Rather than cause panic, Carmen’s presence had made Dani calm. This was the sign she had been looking for. On the night of her greatest uncertainty, the Moon Goddess had given her Carmen Santos.
She had trusted her instincts once before, Dani thought, the day she told Carmen who she was. It had been the worst decision of her young life, and if Carmen was here, it was as a reminder that Dani did as she was told. When she didn’t, disaster struck.
There was no reason now to think of the future shaping itself before her, or to plan her escape. Carmen was taking her place on the other side of Mateo, completing the trifecta that would carry them through the rest of their lives together. She was dazzling. Perfect. Everything upper-class breeding and a lifetime of wealth and doting had bought her.
“Primera, please recite your pledge.”
Carmen seemed to remember Dani’s existence at that moment, and she turned her gaze across the podium with a smile that probably looked warm and welcoming to the audience. Friendly, even.
But Dani knew the truth. That every moment of her life would now be a fight. A competition. A battle for dominance. That Carmen would never stop looking for a way to intimidate and undermine her.
And if she paid close enough attention, if she discovered the secret Dani was hiding with those false papers in her desk drawer, Carmen would finally be able to ruin her. The way she’d inexplicably wanted to since their first day at the Medio School for Girls.
“Primera?” said the headmatron, a wrinkle of concern between her brows.
“Of course,” Dani said, pushing her worries aside. “My apologies, señor.”
Her apology was directed to Mateo, who acknowledged it with an impatient nod.
“Señor Garcia,” she began. “As your Primera, I pledge to be a beacon of light when the darkness is closing. A sturdy boat in choppy seas. I will be your partner, your solid ground. I will honor and respect you as long as we both shall live.”
Short and to the point, Dani had thought when she was writing it. It was only a formality anyway; everyone knew what was expected of a Primera without flowery language to belabor the point.
Mateo extended his hand, and she pressed her palm into his, hoping to convey with this gesture what she hoped for their life together: that they could make a life they loved, even if it was different from the one she had left. She was rewarded with a moment of eye contact, a brief softening of the hard lines around his eyes.
“Segunda?” said the headmatron.
Mateo dropped Dani’s hand in an instant, turning with almost inappropriate eagerness toward his shiny new Segunda, raking his eyes over her body in a greedy way that made Dani want to avert her gaze. Segundas were, of course, the child-bearers of the family, but Mateo wouldn’t be sharing a bed with his Segunda until she reached childbearing age. Usually around twenty, but dependent on an examination by the family’s physician.
Carmen responded with a smile, acknowledging his appreciation, but Dani noticed something tensed behind the Segunda’s eyes. It almost made her feel sorry for Carmen.
Almost.
“Señor,” she said, in a voice like the silk draping her curves. “In a world that will ask for much of you, I promise to be a respite, a joy. To nurture and to please you . . .” Several Segundas made whooping sounds, and Carmen winked at them.
Mateo allowed himself a grin.
Dani fought the urge to be sick.
“. . . To fill your home with beauty and love as long as we live.”
When Mateo mouthed thank you to her, Dani felt smaller than she ever had.
He pulled out the cloth next, woven of the Garcia family colors: blue, black, and silver. Powerful colors, and cold. The cloth his mama had woven was a marvel, much more intricate and sophisticated than the others Dani had seen tonight.
Dani thought she understood the symbolism as she considered the real, glinting metal woven in among the silver threads. Though Mateo’s eyes were a deep brown, it was as though you could see all his family’s ruthless colors swirling behind them.
He settled the cloth over his shoulders before reaching out. Carmen and Dani moved closer, the strange electricity of bodies in proximity sparking between them. Dani’s shoulders touched first Mateo’s, then Carmen’s, before the cloth was around them all.
She tried to lose herself in the colors. The clarity and purpose of the blue, the shadowy secrets of the black. Punctuating it all, the harsh, unyielding edge of the silver.
It’s almost over, Dani thought, a jolt of panic racing through her veins. She had hoped to feel some camaraderie with her new husband before they stepped off the stage. Some indication that her mama had been right about her ability to build a life she loved.
But Mateo had barely looked at her. Carmen Santos of all people was standing beside them. This wasn’t at all what she had been expecting.
“Ladies, thank you both so much,” Mateo said, in a voice that sounded rehearsed. “In return, I promise to be a faithful, dedicated husband to you both. To provide for us all. It’s my pleasure to formally welcome you both to the Garcia family. May we prosper.”
The Garcia family motto.
“May we prosper,” Dani and Carmen replied together.
And then there was a pen in Dani’s hand, gold and too heavy. There were more eligible bachelors waiting for their turn, and Dani grasped for her mama’s words. For anything that would make this moment feel less like the death of something.
But nothing came. There was only Dani, and this cold, strange family that was nothing like her own, and the promise she’d made to take this better life and never look back.
Mateo signed, his handwriting made up of sharp, angular lines that pressed deep into the paper. Carmen was next, with an ostentatious flourish that said absolutely everything about her. They both looked at Dani, who moved precisely. Carefully. Like an expensive instrument unfolding.
And wasn’t she?
The paper disappeared from beneath her hands the moment her name was signed. The headmatron was preparing to call the next name. Mateo was already pushing the door open, Carmen not far behind.
A dangerous feeling was welling up inside Dani, as if her duty and her desire were clawing at each other and the victor hadn’t yet been decided. The cool air on her face whispered that it wasn’t too late. That she could run into the trees and never look back. The darkness at the edges of the courtyard seemed full of ominous whispers. Her chest felt heavy, her movements too slow.
What would they say in Polvo if you returned empty-handed? a small, malicious voice asked as she stood poised at the edge of the darkness. Perfect, brilliant Dani, off to save her family and do things the rest of them only dreamed of doing.
Her heartbeat slowed. The urge to run dissipated, leaving a sad weight in its wake. No one in Polvo would ever understand if she returned. It wouldn’t be the same as it was before. That version of her was dead. This was the only way forward.
And there were Carmen and Mateo, leaning toward each other beneath a glowing lantern. There was an instant intimacy and spark between them that Dani almost envied. Carmen was making a life she loved, or a life that loved her, at least. If this was Dani’s life—if there was truly no going back—she had to do the same.
“Oh, here we go,” said Carmen under her breath as Dani approached. “Mateo was just leaving.”
“Yes, of course,” said Dani, more to Mateo than to Carmen. “Well, señor, we’ll see you . . . tomorrow, then.”
But Mateo was bored again. Dani had been awkward and formal where Carmen was alluring, her posture flattering him even without words.
“Mhm,” he said. “I suppose you will.”
Carmen’s smirk was poison.
“My madres will be here in the morning to retrieve you,” Mateo said, nodding to Dani and kissing Carmen on the cheek. “Until then.”
Once he left, Dani felt like she had just sold her most valuable possession for a handful of dried beans. She wanted to chase after him, force him to acknowledge the hard work she’d done to reach this moment, the life she’d never know because she’d chosen his.
But of course, that wasn’t behavior befitting a Primera, so she just watched him walk away, ashamed of the burning sensation that started behind her eyes and traveled down her throat, leaving a red-hot ember in the center of her chest.
“Really?” asked Carmen. “Isn’t don’t cry, like, the only thing in the whole Primera handbook?”
Her laugh was humorless and mocking as usual, but tonight Dani was armorless. It went right through her, into that empty space where her sudden hope of running home had been, before she’d realized she had no home to run to.
“Get it together,” Carmen said, a shimmer of gold departing the edge of Dani’s blurred vision. “Your professionalism—or lack thereof—reflects on all of us now.”
Once she was alone, Dani felt untethered. When was the last time she’d truly felt like she had a purpose beyond reaching this moment? Making her parents and Polvo proud?
Without warning, her memory conjured Sota and the oratory broom closet. He was an enemy, a member of the ruthless resistance group hell-bent on bringing to the forefront exactly what Dani had always fought to keep in the dark. But when he looked at her, there had been something in his eyes. Something that made her feel strange and, yes, purposeful. Scared, and a little proud.
She spent the whole walk back to her dormitory burying that dangerous thought. If she was lucky, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, she would never see Sota again.
But when had she ever been lucky?
Dani’s view of her future was not improved by the predawn light. Her personal belongings fit in a single small carton, which she carried down to the school’s driveway at sunup without ceremony. The pickups were staggered throughout the morning, to avoid crowding in the circular driveway, so when she arrived, she stood alone.
More than once, she patted the blue-white papers in the outer pocket of her leather satchel, just to make sure they were still there, though she’d checked and rechecked them a thousand times before stepping out into the hallway.
Sota had said there would be a checkpoint on the way into Medio’s government complex. She had no choice but to trust him, even though the thought of it made her chest feel tight.
Just then, of course, Carmen arrived. Three of her minions pushed a rolling cart of dresses behind her, and she waved a hand to direct them, never lifting a finger herself.
Typical, Dani thought, not bothering to conceal her eye roll. She was at the far end of the driveway, and she hoped Carmen would have the good sense to stand at the other. But of course, Carmen beckoned her retinue closer, parking herself and her rolling closet right behind Dani.
“Good morning, Primera,” she said without looking at Dani.
“Good morning, Carmen.”
“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” she asked, shattering any hope Dani had of civility. “I was out late, and my head is killing me.”
The postgraduation Segunda party was legendary, even among Primeras. Dani’s roommate, Jasmín, had been invited last year, and she had come back at sunrise actually giggling. Embarrassing, to say the least.
“Quiet today, huh?” Carmen asked, banishing her sycophants with a wave of her wrist. “Probably a better strategy than whatever you tried last night. It was hard to watch, I’ll be honest.”
“I see you’re sticking with what works,” Dani said without looking up.
“What’s that?”
“Putting me down so you don’t feel as insecure.”
“Ha! Me? Insecure?” she asked. “I’m sorry, have you seen me?” But Dani saw her shoulders stiffen under the crisscrossing straps of orange silk.
“You know, I’ve heard you can be beautiful and still be a cruel, small-minded person with few qualities that endear you to others. But that may have just been a rumor.”
Carmen’s eyes narrowed in anger, but a nearly silent black limousine crept up the drive just in time, preventing Dani from having to hear whatever came next. She picked up her carton and approached the door, leaving Carmen to wrestle with her wardrobe alone in her impractical outfit.
It was a small victory, getting the last word, but when it came to Carmen, Dani would take what she could get.
“Good morning, ladies,” said Señora Garcia, stepping out of the car in a boxy black traveling dress. She had been the one to conduct Dani’s placement interview, and her greeting was as warm as could be expected from one of the most powerful Primeras in the country.
Mama Garcia wasn’t far behind, and Dani could immediately see why the Segunda had been taken with Carmen. They were practically copies of one another. Both dressed in head-to-toe silk, with long, cascading curls and expressions that said the world owed them a perpetual favor. They air-kissed on both cheeks, their smiles wide, as though they were close already.
Another one to watch out for, then, thought Dani as the driver loaded her meager belongings into the car and relieved Carmen of her cumbersome luggage. The four women settled into the back of the car, and Dani tried not to gawk. After five years at school, she was used to a certain level of luxury, but this car was the size of Dani’s parents’ living room.
“Mateo wishes he could have greeted you himself, of course,” said the señora in a brisk, businesslike tone.
The car began to maneuver down the steep driveway, and Carmen looked back as the Medio School for Girls disappeared into the trees behind them.
Dani did not.
“He has urgent business with his father and the president, but will be back this evening,” explained Mama Garcia. “Until then, Señora Garcia and I will be introducing you to the house and grounds, and to your new lives as Garcia women.”
Carmen nodded, and Dani followed suit.
“Now,” said Señora Garcia. “I know you feel prepared, after your schooling, with your marriage contracts newly signed. But I assure you the real work has yet to begin.” She dug down in her bag, retrieving folders. “Before Mateo returns, you’ll need to have the house in order. He travels often for business, as most government officials do, and it will be your responsibility to present him with a well-maintained residence each time he returns. Tomorrow morning will be your first test, and we’d like you to be ready. Please turn to page seventeen of your household manuals.”
She handed a folder to Dani, and one to Carmen. It was completely filled with what Dani assumed was Señora Garcia’s tidy print.
“I’ll give you a few moments to look it over,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.
As they read section three in silence—about the supervision of housekeepers, and Mateo’s preferences for everything from food to lighting to temperature—the tree-lined drive opened up into residential streets.
It was mostly widowed wives down here, the ones too old to be placed again when their husbands died. Some of them chose to remain together in old age, Primera and Segunda, already so used to living together that they decided not to part.
Looking at Carmen, her haughty expression unchanged by the mountain of work awaiting her when they arrived home, Dani couldn’t imagine she’d make the same choice.
Item four, she read. Señor Mateo requires a glass of room-temperature sangria be placed on the end table nearest his favorite chair up to, but no more than, twelve minutes before his arrival home.
Was this going to be her marriage? Catering to the whims of a spoiled boy? Dani had pictured something slightly . . . grander. Then again, she reminded herself, this was only section three of the manual. Maybe the rest would be more satisfying.
Item seven: All of Mateo’s personal correspondence must be placed on the northeast corner of the hall table. This task should not be entrusted to staff members but performed by the Primera of the house herself.
The tasks grew only more tedious and minute as the list wore on. In school, they had learned that a Primera would be her husband’s equal, standing beside him, learning what he knew and sharing his power, but this handbook had her relegated to little more than an assistant. Scheduling social events, responding to invitations, placing Mateo’s mail on the hallway table? This wasn’t what she’d been trained for.
To dampen her rising irritation, Dani let her gaze drift out the window, where Medio’s capital city was just coming into view.
She had spent so long in the quiet, sterile environment of the Medio School for Girls that she’d almost forgotten what the bustle of a city was like. Of course, the small city nearest Polvo was nothing compared to the capital, but Dani found herself nostalgic all the same.
The noise. The narrow alleyways between red-and-white stucco buildings. The overcrowded marketplaces, with their bulging baskets of produce and spices and fabrics in every color under the sun.
Street musicians gathered on every other corner, little girls in bright skirts spinning in front of them until they were breathless.
As the tightly sealed car maneuvered the hairpin turns, Dani inhaled deeply, like she could smell the grilling meat and open casks of sun-wine over the pervasive salt sea air. Everything in Medio moved upward, from the sea at the island’s outer perimeter to the mountain in the center where the capital stood sentry, fed by the freshwater spring that made the lowlands’ salt seem vulgar by comparison.
But even though the upper class might try to deny it, claim it was a curse by a vengeful god, this was an island. No matter how far up or in you went, you could always feel the beating heart of the sea.
The streets opened up again, less markets and food stands and more residential buildings. Between them, laundry hung like the flags of warring nations, and old ladies with wrinkled brown faces and flyaway white curls bickered through open windows over their imagined borders. A drumbeat started, audible even through the thick glass of the car’s tinted windows. This was a place where you could trade limes for gold bracelets and old names for new ones. A place where you could disappear like smoke.
A place where you could stay and be anyone.
Dani looked between Carmen and Mama Garcia, then next to her at Mateo’s stern-faced señora. Surely they weren’t immune to the magic of this city?
“I assume you’ve already familiarized yourself with your list of duties?” Señora Garcia asked. “Given that you’ve taken to gaping out the window like an oversized fish.”
Dani’s face was as smooth and impassive as ever, her Primera mask in place. But maybe it would take more than a mask to impress one of the country’s top Primeras.
“Yes, Señora,” Dani said. “Of course.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me the protocol for the preparation of Mateo’s bedchamber when he’s been away from home overnight.”
It was a trick question. Preparing the bedchamber was a Segunda’s job. But it was on the list, and Dani was nothing if not thorough. She met the señora’s eyes as she said:
“The bedding is to be washed and changed by the housekeepers under the supervision of the Segunda, who will then check it over thoroughly to ensure that the sheets are wrinkle free, his awards from the Medio School for Boys are polished, and his mirror is free of spots and dust.”
Señora Garcia unpursed her lips for what seemed like the first time. “Well, it seems your reading comprehension and memory are up to snuff, at least.”
Dani nodded deferentially, but inside she glowed. This might not be her dream, but she had learned the satisfaction of being exemplary. Because of the nature of their roles, Dani and the elder señora would spend little time alone together after this first week, but she would be the last of Dani’s official teachers, and she found herself still eager to make a good impression.
Maybe it was the whisper of her own mama still stirring in her heart, Dani thought, that made her want to make this woman proud. But when she glanced up again, it was only to notice that Señora Agosta Garcia, with her stern face and her fastidious appearance, was as unlike Dani’s mama as one woman could be from another.
As they left the city behind, Carmen studied her nails in that bored way of hers. Mama Garcia dozed beside her like a cat in a patch of sun. As for the señora, her eyes were a million miles away; she was probably thinking hard about the exact way Mateo liked his book spines dusted.
Item fourteen: Under no circumstances should the Primera, the Segunda, or house staff be permitted inside Señor Mateo’s private office.
This one caught Dani’s attention. Maybe she wouldn’t be the only one with a secret in the new Garcia household. But item fifteen was about the type of dessert Mateo liked if he was arriving home on a weeknight, and Dani sighed, a small and quiet thing, puncturing her breathless awe until it shrank in her chest.
The car began to climb, leaving the crowds behind, and this time it didn’t dip down again. They were headed for the government complex, the exclusive, gated community where all of Medio’s most influential and powerful people lived, like priceless jewels at the island’s throat. As far from the sea and its salt-barren ground as you could get. As far as you could get from the desperation of people dependent on the tides and whims of those in power.
It had been a long time since they’d had anything to be thankful for out there. Since the Salt God denounced his brother’s second marriage, according to some, but Dani wondered sometimes if that was just an excuse.
In the rear window, the sea was visible at last—a shimmering horizon line. From up here, you couldn’t see that people were starving. Couldn’t see the ancient wall with the armed sentries stationed along it. Couldn’t see the mothers’ hands reaching, begging for a scrap of something to give their children as armored trucks rolled through the gate with just enough food to keep most of their families alive and hungry.
From here, it was almost like quivering-chinned teens weren’t probing for a place to sneak their younger siblings across, just hoping not to be gunned down or sent back. Like big men with knives and a little scraped-together power weren’t taking more than their fair share, ganging up on the already downtrodden until they were forced to do something desperate and dangerous just to survive.
Suddenly, the false papers were heavy as stones in Dani’s bag. She could try all she wanted to pretend she belonged in this car. In this life. But as long as she could see that horizon line, she would never forget where she had come from.
The gates of the government complex loomed ahead, and Dani found herself suspended between two worlds. The sea and the gate. The past and the future. But before she could deal with either of them, she would have to get through the checkpoint.
“Ay, I hate these things,” said Mama Garcia as the intimidating iron gate became visible up ahead. “It’s just a constant hassle for busy people. Who’s really going to try to sneak in up here, huh? It’s not like we don’t know a criminal when we see one.”
Her face was the picture of disdain, and inappropriate as it was, Dani fought the urge to laugh at the unbelievable irony.
Mama Garcia thought she should be able to tell. Like they all had scarlet marks on their foreheads to brand them. Like they were so decidedly other that even a glance at one would reveal them for what they truly were.
Ignoring the older Segunda’s ranting, Señora Garcia instructed them all to take out their papers.
Dani swallowed once, hard, as the others dug through their shoulder bags. It was time to hope Sota had earned his cocky attitude.
Her life depended on it, after all.