The next four days passed at a snail's pace; not because Malinali skipped two meals a day, or that she spent most of her time at the temple of Cihuacoatl, praying and doing service to the goddess in preparation for taking her oath, but rather because she saw very little of Cuauhtemoc. As part of her cleansing rituals, she not only gave up salt and chile with her one daily meal, but she refrained from intimate relations, and while she wished he'd still spend the nights with her, they'd both agreed it was foolish to tempt desire and anger the gods. It's only for a few days, she reminded herself.
But with so much quiet time to contemplate her future, she couldn't help but remind herself what a bad idea it was to even be with him at all at this point. She should end this affair for good, and try to move on. And yet come morning, when she joined him for breakfast—the only meal permitted during her fast—her resolve always faltered. He greeted her with a gentle kiss on the cheek and talked boisterously about his day's plans. Breaking it off would change everything between them, how openly he spoke to her about Achicatl, how freely he laughed. She couldn't bear the thought of losing all that.
On the morning after her fifth day of penance and fasting, she came from her quarters to find Cuauhtemoc and the rest of the Council gathered in the courtyard, everyone dressed in somber garb. No one had to say that Lord Matlatzincatzin had died. The former Cihuacoatl's wives were all gathered, weeping and clutching their children.
"It's a good thing Lords Xicotencatl and Acxotecatl arrived last night," Cuauhtemoc told her as they took their morning meal in her private garden. "We couldn't have the funeral rites until someone from Tlaxcala arrived."
Malinali nearly choked on her tortilla. "Why is Acxotecatl here?"
Cuauhtemoc chuckled. "It's all right. He and Xicotencatl brought their Council representative, so his arrival is fully expected. I'm glad he came, so he can see you vested with the robe of the Cihuacoatl tonight."
"Yes, but why didn't you tell me?"
He frowned. "I'm sorry. I thought you had enough on your mind with preparing to take your oath. I didn't want to worry you."
"I'm not worried," she snapped. Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she took a deep breath. "Sorry. He makes me nervous."
Cuauhtemoc took her hand. "I understand, but he can't possibly hurt you anymore. After tonight, you'll be the second most powerful person in Tenochtitlan, and any threat against you is the same as threatening the Triple Alliance itself and we will react accordingly." He leaned over the empty plates and gave her a passionate kiss that left her wishing he'd pull her atop the table, scattering dishes everywhere as they shared the pleasure she so dearly missed.
But she knew he knew better. She had to remain properly fasted until the high priest of Cihuacoatl presented her with the robes of her new office this evening, once Matlatzincatzin had been placed upon his funeral pyre. It seemed so far away still, and desire pulsed inside her belly.
"I won't let him bother you," he whispered once they separated. "I promise."
¤
Her impatience followed her throughout the day, all the way up to the ritual burning of Lord Matlatzincatzin's body. It was a somber affair filled with grim-faced lords and weeping women, though Malinali chose to follow the lead of the lords, since she wasn't part of Matlatzincatzin's family. She spent most of her time watching Cuauhtemoc—the better to avoid eye contact with Acxotecatl. She sensed him watching her, but she never caught him at it.
In fact, Acxotecatl had been cool and formal since his arrival, giving her only cursory attention at the formal meetings and sparing her his conniving smile; a relief at first, for certainly he'd come to his senses and realized that he had nothing to hurt her with. But as the hour of her accession approached, that turned to suspicion that he was holding back, waiting for the moment where the high priest of Cihuacoatl was poised to set the headdress of her new position on her head before shouting out and destroying everything.
But he remained respectfully silent throughout the ceremony atop the temple. A large crowd of citizens gathered to watch—a good number of them women who cheered when their newly-crowned Cihuacoatl turned to face them for the first time. Malinali nearly broke down when she saw many of them in tears as they smiled and cheered, their arms raised to the sky. Even some of the men looked pleased and cheered when Cuauhtemoc took her wrist in his hand and raised both their arms in triumph between them.
After the ceremony was the celebratory feast in the great hall, and she expected Acxotecatl to attempt to approach her then, especially when Cuauhtemoc moved off to speak with Xicotencatl and the man he'd brought to represent Tlaxcala on the Council. But he remained at his mat, eating slowly and actively avoiding her gaze.
Lady Izel came over and asked permission to sit with her. It felt strange how the power had shifted so significantly between them since the last time she'd seen her. Malinali welcomed the distraction. "Please share this bowl of sauce with me." She held up one of the numerous gourd-bowls the servants had set out for her.
Izel beamed as she sat down, then dipped a rolled tortilla in the bowl. "Congratulations on your accession, My Lady. You must be so honored, becoming the first female Cihuacoatl of the Mexica."
"It's a great honor," Malinali agreed, dipping her own tortilla.
"These are exciting times to be alive. There's peace between our nations for the first time in our history, and now the Mexica have opened their power structures to intelligent, worthy women. The future looks bright, not only for our sons, but our daughters as well."
"It's a good first step."
"Have you met my brother Ohtli yet? He's to be Tlaxcala's voice in the Triple Alliance." Izel looked over her shoulder.
Malinali followed her gaze, to the man standing with Cuauhtemoc and Xicotencatl. He wasn't as tall as Cuauhtemoc, but he was well-muscled. He had a grave demeanor about him—no doubt the reason his father thought he'd make a good priest; Malinali wondered if it was for Cuauhtemoc's benefit, or was he this way in private as well? Izel was right though. Ohtli was handsome, and the most obvious signs of having been a priest—the blood-matted hair, the facial scarring from ritual bloodletting of the ears and cheeks—were absent. But he's no Cuauhtemoc. She immediately scolded herself though. "No, I haven't had the pleasure yet."
"I can introduce you to him," Izel offered. "He's eager to meet you, after everything I told him about you...." But when she followed Malinali's gaze—and Cuauhtemoc glanced back and gave them the briefest of smiles, finally making Malinali look away—she paused then added, "Oh."
Malinali's cheeks burned hot while growing stiffness pained her chest. "I look forward to meeting him." She tried to keep a steady voice but it came out choked.
Izel looked away, uncomfortable. "You and the huey tlatoani—"
"He's to marry a princess of Texcoco in a month, so no, there's nothing between us—" Her voice broke and she had to swallow to continue. "Not anymore, anyway. It wasn't meant to be."
"I'm sorry, My Lady," Izel whispered, understanding breaking her voice.
Malinali smiled to keep the tears back. "I look forward to meeting your brother and discussing the future. Perhaps we can do so over a meal tomorrow, in the morning?"
"Perhaps we should wait a few more days—"
"That won't be necessary. I'm ready to move on, and I'm certain Lord Ohtli would appreciate the stability of a family while he's settling into his new position."
¤
Feasts usually ran until the morning, but with Council meetings the next day, the head steward wrapped up meal service early, and the palace guards escorted the guests to their rooms before the priests rang the midnight bells in the sacred precinct. Both Cuauhtemoc and Malinali remained in the great hall bidding everyone farewell until only they and their personal guards remained.
Once alone, Cuauhtemoc took Malinali's hand and drew her to him. "I thought this feast would never end." He leaned in to kiss her, but she drew back. "Are you all right?" When she struggled to speak, he asked, "Acxotecatl didn't talk to you, did he? I gave the guards very specific instructions to not allow him to approach you."
Malinali blinked at him, startled. "No, no he didn't, but...you really ordered the guards to keep him away from me?"
His cheeks flushed, fearing a scolding. "I didn't want him upsetting you. I don't trust him."
She chuckled, finally smiling. "That wasn't necessary, but thank you for thinking about me."
"I'm always thinking about you." He squeezed her hands between his and tried again to kiss her, but again she drew back, frowning. "What is it, my love?"
She refused to look at him though, bringing back the sick feeling in his stomach. "I can't do this anymore, Cuauhtemoc." Her voice broke.
"Can't do what?" His own voice faltered.
"Tomorrow morning, I'm meeting with Lady Izel and her brother, to arrange a marriage between myself and Lord Ohtli."
"You are?"
She nodded. "It's the logical thing to do. I'm not an insignificant slave woman anymore; I'm the Cihuacoatl of Tenochtitlan and I have a legacy to think about. My children can't be the illegitimate offspring of the huey tlatoani. That would undermine respect for my authority and power."
He felt numb as he admitted, "It would."
"The only way I can be equal to Lord Matlatzincatzin is to demand the same rights any man is given; I require devotion to me alone from any man in my household, the same way you require it of your wife and concubines, and I will give my devotion to him in return, because it is only fair and right to respect that I am his wife." She finally looked up at him and squeezed his hands firmly with her own. "Nor will I ask you to toss aside your honor and break your betrothal to Ixtlil's sister, even though I love you and want you more than I've ever wanted anyone; it is your honorable nature that won my heart, so this needs to end now. It's perhaps too late to keep from hurting you—certainly too late for me—but it must be done."
Cuauhtemoc nodded, his throat too choked to let him speak. When she started taking her hands from his, he tightened his grip, desperate to never let her go. But then he regained his composure and relaxed his grip, watching her hands slip away. "I understand. We all do what we must."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She turned and ran from the great hall, Tenoch and another guard following her once she raced past them. He stared at the empty doorway a long time before finding the will to move.
But instead of going to his quarters, he turned and headed out into the gardens, his fists clenched at his sides. His guards rushed to catch up with him.
He followed the flagstone path to the back of the garden, to the pond where his mother had told him he was marrying Ixtlil's sister. What I wouldn't give to go back to that day and tell her she's not choosing my wife for me, he thought, staring into the black water at his feet. He hoped with a little time, the exhaustion would overwhelm the pain swamping his insides and drive him to his bed, so he could put this all aside while he slept.
Voices coming deeper into the garden drew his attention—and his ire; he wanted to be left alone to wallow in self-pity. As the voices grew closer, he recognized Ixtlil's laughter; the other voice was a woman's, but not his wife's. Temper flaring, Cuauhtemoc stalked away from the pond towards the voices, his guards tailing him.
When he came upon his friend, Ixtlil had one of Cuauhtemoc's slave women pressed up against the trunk of a large oak tree, kissing her as he worked his hands down to the hem of her dress. "Have you no honor, you dog?" Cuauhtemoc spat.
Both Ixtlil and the slave woman started, though the woman looked far more shamed by being caught like this. Ixtlil chuckled. "I thought you'd be celebrating late into the night with your new Cihuacoatl. What are you doing out here?"
"And I repeat, have you no honor? How many times have I told you to leave my slaves alone?"
Ixtlil frowned, annoyed. "You should go, my dear," he told the woman.
"Yes, My Lord." She hastily pulled down the hem of her dress then backed away from them, bowing as she moved down the path towards the palace until she disappeared behind the trees.
"What is the meaning of this?" Ixtlil demanded, eyeing Cuauhtemoc's guards. His own came into view from beyond the trees, looking tense. "Have I never properly compensated you if I get one of your slaves with child?"
"This is not about compensation, Ixtlil. This is about honor. I told you to leave my slaves alone and yet you refuse to respect my wishes. That is not the action of an honorable man!"
Ixtlil stood taller and wrinkled his nose. "Well, if it bothers you that much—"
"It bothers me that I honor my agreements with you but you don't do the same with me. You have all manner of fun in defiance of my wishes but you expect me to be miserable following yours."
Startled, Ixtlil took a step back. "What...what in the world are you talking about? I never demand anyone be miserable on my account."
Cuauhtemoc laughed unkindly. "I'm certain your wife would beg to differ."
Ixtlil's eyes bulged. "How dare you presume to think you know anything at all about Papantzin—"
"Why are you here in my garden with one of my slaves when you should be back in the guest quarters with your wife? Or are you so used to thinking about your own happiness that you give no thought to hers'? What do you think your wife does every night while you're off with some other woman? Do you ever consider that she might cry for some lost love she had to walk away from and never see again because she was obligated to marry you—and give herself only to you—to tie together some political bond she had nothing to do with making in the first place? Has it ever occurred to you that she might cry herself to sleep while you find your joy and love—things she will never know—with every woman but her?"
Ixtlil opened his mouth to protest, but no coherent words came out.
"Of course you don't, because she's a woman of honor and she'd never let on that being your wife makes her miserable. Just as I will marry your sister instead of the woman I love, and though I doubt I will ever be happy again, it doesn't matter because I am a man of honor."
After floundering for words, Ixtlil finally sputtered, "What are you talking about? You can still take Malinali for a concubine—"
Cuauhtemoc shook his head. "She's marrying Lord Ohtli."
"Ohtli? Whatever for?"
"To make certain she has a legitimate legacy of her own. And I don't blame her. I can't marry her myself because I've committed to marrying Xocotzin, nor can I undermine her new position by expecting her to be my concubine. I respect her too much to ask that of her. So I must let her go." He pressed his eyes with his fingers, fighting off stinging tears.
Ixtlil stared at him, all the anger and offense drained from his face. "I'm so sorry, Cuauhtemoc."
Cuauhtemoc waved him off, the exhaustion finally hitting with terrific force. He wished he were already back in his quarters, so he could fall onto his bed and forget this night for a few hours. "What does any of it matter? Go find that slave woman and enjoy yourself. I'll see you tomorrow at the Council meeting." He then headed for the palace, his gilded sandals feeling as if they were made of solid brick instead.
¤
"Revered Speaker. My Lord," a whispering voice echoed, drawing Cuauhtemoc from a thankfully dreamless sleep. He blinked up at the face of one of his guards leaning over him. "I beg forgiveness for waking you, but Lord Ixtlilxochitl says it's urgent."
Cuauhtemoc looked towards the window to see full daylight glowing bright on the curtain. He'd slept much later than he intended. He rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn. "Where is he?"
"In your anteroom, My Lord. Shall I call for your body servants to dress you?"
Shaking his head, Cuauhtemoc rose and tossed his blanket aside. "No, but if you could hand me my robe, I'd appreciate it."
Once the guard helped him into the robe he'd dropped on the floor next to his bed the night before, he went into the anteroom to find Ixtlil pacing as if he hadn't slept at all. His own Cihuacoatl stood nearby, holding a bulging cotton sack. When he saw Cuauhtemoc, a look of relief spread over his face. "Did I wake you? I'm so sorry—no doubt you had trouble sleeping last night—but this can't wait."
Cuauhtemoc approached him, concerned. "Are you all right?" Much of the previous night's discussion felt like a fuzzy dream, but he knew he'd been unnecessarily hard on his best friend.
Ixtlil hesitated before saying, "I think I will be, with a little work and a little time, but this isn't about me." He motioned to his Cihuacoatl, who came forward and held out the bag, his head bowed.
"What is this?"
"I'm returning the bride price to you and calling off the betrothal."
Cuauhtemoc stared at the bag but didn't take it. His heart hammered in his chest. "I know I said things I shouldn't have last night, because I was upset—"
"And I understand it now." Ixtlil went back to pacing. "I thought about what you said, about Papantzin.... I didn't want to believe you, so I went to her room and asked, and...." He leaned against the hearth, his fist clenched above his head. "It took some work to get the truth out of her, but once I did, the tears.... I've never felt so horrible, Cuauhtemoc. I don't want her to be miserable."
"I know you don't."
"And I don't want that for you either. You're more a brother to me than any of my real brothers, and though I want our families joined, I won't do it by forcing you to marry Xocotzin. You need to be with Malintzin, so take back the bride price."
Cuauhtemoc finally took the bag and gripped it tightly. "I owe you a debt for this, Ixtlil."
"You owe me nothing, but for the gods' sakes, don't stand there. Get over to the Cihuacoatl's palace and offer yourself to her before she goes and betroths herself to Lord Ohtli!"