A SU ANTOJO (at her whim)

Chapter 5

The day preceding the wedding unfolds in a bustling spectacle within the castle. Servants, clad in elegant livery, scurry through grand halls adorned with flowers and tapestries. The air is charged with anticipation as they meticulously arrange lavish decorations, ensuring every detail aligns with the impending celebration. In the banquet hall, tables are adorned with fine linens and gleaming silverware, while in the kitchens, the aroma of sumptuous dishes wafts through the air. Throughout the castle, the hum of activity resonates as servants transform each space into a realm of enchantment, setting the stage for a grand and unforgettable occasion.

Despite their efforts, Queen Isabella scrutinizes every detail with an eagle eye, her expectations soaring as high as her standards. Servants tread carefully as they strive for perfection, knowing any lapse of judgment would surely lead to untimely death. Or at least, Isabella sought for them to believe that "if my son's wedding is not impeccable, I will have all your heads!" She shouted. Isabella's commanding aura fills the castle, and the meticulous preparations intensify in the wake of her discerning gaze.

The air is thick with both excitement and apprehension as the queen, driven by an unwavering commitment to flawlessness, ensures that her vision of an impeccable celebration comes to fruition.

Prince Sancho and Lady Sálenos remain blissfully unaware of Queen Isabella's tyranny. Hidden away in the gardens, surrounded by enchanting flowers with shades unbeknownst to the soon-to-be queen, "I do wish I could have at least chosen my own flowers," Lady Sálenos sighed.
"As I said, if you value your life, I would implore you to let my mother do what she does best and be an absolute bother to those around her." Sancho laughed, yanking out a weed that proved to be much harder than he had speculated.
"Fine, but if she insists on changing my dress one more time, I am going mad." Lady Sálenos face contorts with palpable irritation, her furrowed brow and tightened jaw revealing her patience to already wear thin. But it wasn't just the lack of consideration by Queen Isabella; it was the entirety.

Sálenos mother had been long gone, and her father was off fighting against soldiers, or so she was told. "Is the thought of my mother choosing my garments now bothering you?" Sancho jested. The compelling need to speak the truth became agony for her. "You will never speak of your past to anyone, or so be it; I will ensure your village is obliterated." Words that King Felipe uttered, not being the worst thing he has ordered of her or done to her. "I prefer you in blue," she swiftly replies, not alarming the prince.
"Red is traditional," the prince unhappily reminds her.

In the midst of their seclusion, a familiar face presents itself to Lady Sálenos, general José Martín. Her hands, in a relaxed state, scrunch up into fists. "Congratulations, Prince Sancho and Lady Sálenos." He passes a satisfied grin to Lady Sálenos before shifting his gaze to Sancho. "I know your father would be proud of the man you've become, but I must already take my leave. I have to ensure the wedding goes smoothly." One last look at Lady Sálenos: her eyes narrow into fiery slits and her brows knit together in a fierce furrow.

Taut lines trace the edges of her clenched jaw. She hasn't seen José Martín since he took her as a hostage for the Queen. "Did he hurt you?" Sancho asked, and Sálenos rage suddenly faded into sorrow, and in seconds she became the terrified, savage girl falling victim to the white man. "I do not wish to speak about it."
"You're to be my wife; your burdens are mine," Sancho argued.
"Don't you dare speak of burdens when you possess none!" Lady Sálenos retorts. "You're incapable of fathoming the loss I have been through." Despite the agony in her voice, cries hang beneath them. For a moment, Sancho remains still. "You're right, I could not grasp how severe your hardships may be, but despite my ignorance, I am capable of sympathy."

Lady Sálenos let out a heavy sigh. "If I could tell you, I would, but for now, do not press for answers."
"Fine," Sancho reluctantly agrees, returning his tend of the garden.

Echoes of pleading cries reverberate in Lady Sálenos ears: "Please!" She begs in her native tongue, but yet they shout, "Cortarle el pelo ahora." A symbol of her identity is now swept into clumps and tossed away. "Tata," Lady Sálenos murmured with a lonely tear resembling her place in this kingdom.