The Last Song

husband. You will get used to his ways.”
    I knew
that
would never happen, but she would not listen when I told her that Luis had an unkind heart. “He kills living things for no reason, Mama. You are the one who taught me never to hurt defenseless creatures.”
    She would not relent.
    I was so embarrassed that I could not bring myself to tell her about his lack of respect toward me. Instead, I tried to explain that the perfumes he used to cover the odor of his unwashed body sickened me. No matter what I said, she ignored my words.
    I soon realized that there was nothing I could do to change my parents’ minds. I became determined to stay as far away from Luis as possible.
    Finally, the day I had dreaded arrived – the day of my betrothal. The golden warmth of the sun woke me up. I lay in my bed, still drowsy, until I remembered what day it was. I rang for Sofia. She wept with me as she got me ready. Both of us knew that I had no choice,that there was no escape. I had to obey my parents.
    She bathed me and helped me into a chemise and kirtle. Above it I wore a blue gown embroidered in the colors of the rainbow. The flowing, long skirt made me feel grown-up. The blue color emphasized my purity, and the richness of the embroidery my position in society. She coiled my hair at the nape of my neck and covered it with a snood embroidered with gold thread. Finally, she rubbed a salve made of berries and spices over my cheeks to give them a rosy glow. She painted my lips with the same potion.
    Mama entered my room, most handsome in green silk.
    “You look beautiful,” she said.
    “So do you.”
    She pulled me close to her, as if to kiss me. Before I realized what she was doing, she plucked several hairs from my hairline.
    I jumped back. “What are you doing? Why are you hurting me?”
    She laughed. “Now you have a noble brow, like our queen, for whom you are named.” She took my hand and twirled me around. “Perfect! Luis will be mad with passion for you.”
    I sank to my knees. “Please stop this charade, Mama. I beg you. I don’t want to become Luis’s bride.”
    “That’s for your father and me to decide,” she said in a stern voice I rarely heard from her. She sat down on a stool, careful to spread her skirts around her. “By marrying Luis, you will strengthen your position at the royal court, and – most importantly – you will be safe from the Inquisition.”
    “Why do I have to strengthen my position at court? Papa is their majesties’ favorite physician. He can do no wrong in their eyes. We have no reason to fear the Inquisition. We are good Catholics.”
    Mama rose from her seat with a whisper of her skirts. “Again, too many questions, my girl. I must go to the kitchen to check on preparations for the food. The guests will expect a feast after the betrothal ceremony.” She patted my hand. “Go for a walk. It will calm your nerves.”
    I found myself by the orange tree that grew beside the house. From where I sat I could see anyone coming, and the leaves hid me from prying eyes. I stretched my arms and legs wide and leaned against the trunk of the tree. I closed my eyes to try to take in the smells and sounds of this garden, my childhood playground.
    I must have dozed off, because before I knew it, the clopping of hooves startled me awake. A boy, riding amule, was arriving at our front door. A large package wrapped in rags was slung over the mule, in front of his saddle. Quickly, I got to my feet and went to meet him.
    He was a tall boy, a little older than me, with swarthy skin and wild, black curls partially covered by the pointed hood of his long cloak. The badge Jews had to wear, a white circle with a smaller red circle inside it, was sewn onto the left shoulder of his garment.
    “Whoa! Where did you come from?” he asked.
    I didn’t answer.
    He pointed to the orange tree. “Were you hiding behind that tree?”
    “Who are you? What do you want?”
    “I am Yonah, the son of Natan Abenatar, the master silversmith,” he said proudly. “I am delivering a centerpiece for a table.” He nodded at the package in front of him. “I was told that it was needed for the betrothal meal in honor of the daughter of the house. Where should I take it?” He climbed off his mule with easy grace.
    “Come with me.” I made my voice as haughty as I could.
    The slight smile on his lips made me wonder if he was laughing at me. I looked around. There was no sign of Yussuf. He was most likely in the