The Light Side of the Shadow Wall

Part III: The Shadow Side and the Light Side

"Good day, señorita de Luna. Good morning, señorita. Hello, señorita, what a beautiful morning, isn't it?"

"Yes, very beautiful." Serafina, who had been unable to signal her presence earlier, tried to muffle her giggles.

An aghast silence emanated from the other side of the wall. They hadn't even been properly introduced yet, and already she was laughing at him.

"I apologize, Señor de Teran. I didn't mean to startle you – I tried to speak up earlier, but you didn't hear me."

"My fault entirely, Señorita de Luna."

"Do call me Serafina," she said warmly, now used to the more familiar address from the preceding suitors. "And may I call you Dimas?"

"Certainly." He took a deep breath. He was accustomed to being an honest man, and Zacarías had said his cousin would appreciate honesty.

"I think by now you may be tired of flowery compliments from a stranger. I think I would, if it were me. Given that we don't know each other very well yet, I hope you do not mind if I wait until we are better acquainted. When two people really care for one another, I think there is no shortage of things they can find to like about each other." It was something he had learned from observing Casimiro and Magdalena, and Nicodemo and Maricela.

Serafina folded her hands in her lap, tilting her head towards the wall attentively. His footsteps, when he had arrived, seemed careful but unwavering, firm not overconfident. "That sounds very sensible to me. I don't mind at all."

"I also hope you feel comfortable asking me whatever you would like to know. I will not take offense," Dimas assured her.

Serafina smiled. "Well, then, I will make sure to ask you my boldest questions to see if you are true to your word."

"Ask away, señorita."

She thought it prudent to begin with a somewhat more standard question, so she asked about his hobbies, expecting to hear some variant on gambling or horseracing. Instead, he told her about his rose garden. When she listened to him talk about the flowers he so diligently cultivated, she thought this was a man whose touch the earth must surely welcome.

Serafina had never been very interested in the gardening aspect of flowers, but listening to him was not boring. The animated passion in his voice was clear, and he often paused to ask her what shade of roses she liked and whether she had seen a certain variety.

"There are these little cream-colored roses, no larger than a thumbnail, and they are the hardiest climbers… Have you ever seen the princesa roses? No? They are whiter than new milk, and their petals are softer than velvet, so they have a full guard of thorns to protect them."

They talked of things besides roses, of course, and Dimas was very considerate. He often asked her if she was getting too warm or thirsty. She found something very attractive about the earnestness of this quiet, soft-spoken man.

The conversation felt like they were picking their way across a riverbed; each of them were trying to watch their step, but the water was warm and pleasant, and occasionally the glitter of sunlight refracting off the surface of the river was dazzling.

One day, Sergio seemed distracted, withdrawn, but she was unsure whether it was merely the continued strain of trying to find things to talk about with a faceless stranger.

"Is anything on your mind, Sergio?" Serafina asked, watching the spotted lizards skitter across the tiles.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to be inattentative."

"I don't mind, but if something is troubling you and there is anything I can do to help, I would like to know."

"You have a kind heart, Serafina." He paused, and she could hear the scuff of his boot against a stray rock. Finally, he said, "I am thinking of my childhood friend, Catalina. When we were very young, we used to play that she was a princess and I was her knight. I would slay all the dragons – they were just spotted lizards, of course – and I swore I would always protect her."

She tilted her head, watching the clouds dance across the calm skies and wondering how she should feel. "What happened to her?"

"She went missing, seven years ago to the day. Her family has always suspected that the Oscura Luna had something to do with her disappearance."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Serafina said sincerely, "I hope she will be found again."

He sighed heavily. "So do I. And I am sorry to be so morbid on such a beautiful day. It was some years ago, yet I have always felt like I failed her, somehow."

"So many people have gone missing or worse at the hands of the Oscura Luna, Sergio. I am sure you did your very best. And now when you think about her, I am sure Santa Esperanza carries your wishes to her."

"Thank you, Serafina." His words were few, but heartfelt.

She hesitated, then asked, "Will you tell me what she looks like, and her name? One of my cousins is still involved with the efforts to break the last, lingering hold of the Oscura Luna. Sometimes people do turn up, now and again. I could ask him to keep an eye out for her."

"I would be very grateful. She is from the de la Fuente family, and she is petite – perhaps coming up to the average man's shoulder. Her hair is all the shades of the fire, red and gold like leaping embers, and her eyes are amber like honey."

"I see," she said quietly. "I will tell him."

There was a long pause, during which each of them were lost in their thoughts.

"Serafina?"

"Yes, Sergio?"

"My brothers and I and Catalina, we were all childhood playmates together, and we all cared for her very deeply. She was easy to love and her heart was kind and pure, like yours, Serafina. For many years, they searched with me, but recently, it seems like they have given up hope. Some days, we convince each other to go on, but other times, I wonder if we will ever find her…"

She took a slow breath, letting the scent of jasmine and orange fill her with tranquility. "To lose hope is to lose everything, Sergio. Do you remember once, I asked you what your good qualities were?"

She could hear the smile return to his voice. "Yes. I said, 'I am a nice person. Usually girls are happy when they see me.' It's still true, of course."

Serafina laughed. "I don't doubt it. But I think you have another, even more admirable trait, Sergio. Above all, you are loyal. In times like these, we need loyalty to remind us of the riches of the past and to measure the brightness of the future."

It was strange. After he told her about Catalina, Serafina felt closer to Sergio, as if they had taken the first steps on the path to friendship without even realizing it. She looked forward to his visits because he made her laugh.

One day, Luisa remarked, "You seem to get along well together, you and Señor de Fonseca."

"Yes. Sometimes it's like talking to Zacarías, only Sergio doesn't tease me quite as much – more like talking to Alejandro, then. Never tell Zacarías I said that!"

She never quite gained the same sense of equilibrium and ease around Damían, who was dark and intriguing and remote, like bitter chocolate that melts at the back of the tongue. He was starting to get impatient, often urging her to accept his suit.

On the other hand, Serafina began to look forward to her meetings with Dimas with an eagerness that surprised her. When she heard of something amusing, she made a note to tell him of it, and when something was bothering her, she found that it soothed her to tell him about it. He was more sympathetic than Zacarías and not as irritatingly sensible as Luisa, and she was always surprised that the hours had passed so quickly when the time came for them to part.

The things he told her made her days sparkle with color, for he seemed to be a person from whom good intentions flowed as freely as wine during the summer fetes. He was industrious, as far as she could tell – he spent long hours with his father, learning how to govern the lands that would one day be his, and he often kept late hours so he could indulge in his favorite pastimes. From what Serafina could tell, those appeared to be cultivating the most beautiful roses she had ever heard of and eating at Maricela de Soria's table with his friends all around him.

Dimas arrived home one afternoon to find Joaquin on his doorstep. "Ah, Joaquin! You must be here to inquire after my progress."

"What – oh, yes, of course," his friend said, looking unusually flushed.

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"No, no, I just got here." He seemed to be looking around for something, and Dimas noticed that he seemed to be unusually well dressed. Joaquin had even polished his boots to a mirror-bright finish, and they were reflecting the sun's rays most unmercifully.

"Did you have business this morning?" he asked, unlocking the door and ushering his friend in before him.

"Business? No, why do you ask?"

Dimas grinned and gestured at his clothing. "Before today, I did not think you owned an unwrinkled shirt."

Instead of giving him the expected shove on the shoulder, Joaquin reddened. "Oh, well, you know. I was tired of Magdalena badgering me all the time, so I thought I had better clean myself up a bit."

Dimas raised his eyebrows. "Well, I think you did quite a good job of it. You look spruced up enough to go courting."

"No, no! Courting? Me? Perish the thought!" Joaquin laughed weakly.

"Yes, really, Dimas, what were you thinking? What girl would have him?" a coolly amused voice came from the doorway.

Dimas looked to see his sister Rosalía, wearing one of her prettiest dresses and a derisive smile. "Rosalía! That's not very nice," he admonished.

She rolled her eyes, which were a magnificent shade of purple that were much admired – at least by those suitors she had yet to frighten away with her sharp tongue. "My apologies, señor Joaquin."

"Accepted, señorita Rosalía," he said. His gaze was challenging as he added, "And may I say that you are looking particularly lovely today?"

Dimas looked between his friend and his sister in confusion. "What is going on today? I have never heard you address each other as such before. And why is everyone dressed so nicely today? Are you planning to go out later, Rosalía?"

"What? No, of course not. I just put this on in case any of the girls were planning on calling. They are getting so competitive nowadays," she replied with a toss of her shining hair.

Joaquin sighed, knowing perfectly well that she meant, 'Don't think I got dressed up for you, Joaquin de Vittoria.'

"Well, anyway, Dimas, tell me about how things are going with the fair Serafina. She sounds like a sensible girl," he said.

Dimas beamed, completely oblivious to his sister's ire. "Yes, very sensible. And do you know, talking to her is so calming. Sometimes, it feels like we are the only two people in the world, and I could spend the rest of my life listening to her voice."

Rosalía huffed in disgust. "Oh, Dimas, don't be taken in so easily. Many of these girls can sound like the sweetest thing alive, and once you are married, you will see their true faces."

"Yes, whereas you prefer to let men know exactly what they are getting into. Very admirable." Joaquin bowed to her from the waist down.

He was rewarded with her most poisonous glare. Turning to Dimas, she said, "When you and your fool of a friend are finished talking, please come find me. I've changed my mind about going out."

Without a second glance at Joaquin, she flounced out.

Dimas groaned, foreseeing an afternoon of shopping ahead. "I cannot believe I once asked Santa Esperanza for a sister."

Unperturbed by their dismissal, Joaquin laughed. "You're no match for her, Dimas."

"No man is a match for her," Dimas grumbled. "I despair of ever finding her a husband."

"You should let her choose."

"What?"

"You should let her choose," Joaquin repeated.

Dimas frowned. "Well, of course I would never do anything without her consent, but you would understand if you had a sister, Joaquin. I'm responsible for her. I want her to be happy. Sometimes I wonder if she will choose someone just to spite me."

"You should trust her judgment. Rosalía has very good judgment – when she's not angry, anyway. In fact, I would say she's a little less naïve about people than you are, Dimas."

He threw his hands up in the air. "First my sister, now you. Does no one trust me to look after myself?"

Joaquin smiled. "Of course we do. It's just that sometimes, you always want to see the best in people. What you need is a girl with a pure heart and clear eyes."

"I think that describes Serafina perfectly."

"Then, my friend, I think you will be very happy," Joaquin predicted, toasting him with his water glass. He promptly choked – it seemed that on her way out, Rosalía had managed to lace his glass with chili dust.

Serafina stood by the wall, feeling anticipation more delicious than almond cookies and headier than mead rush through her. How could it be that she felt so strongly about someone whom she had never seen?

And yet, she felt that in some ways, she had come to know him even better than all but her dearest friends and relatives. For she knew the cadence of his footsteps and the rhythm of his speech as well as she knew the tolling of the bells that marked the passing hours of the days. She could predict, from the slight inhale of breath, when his soft laughter would ensue, and that this was his equivalent of Zacarías's hearty guffaws. She listened for all these clues to him and valued them more highly than the necklaces in her jewel box.

"Good day, Serafina."

"Good day, Dimas."

When she could tell that he was settled, she asked, "Dimas, do you feel that one can truly, properly get to know another person without ever seeing their face?"

"Yes. I would like to think that is the case because that is how I feel." She could see his shadow leaning back, lacing his fingers behind his neck. "Do you know, my friends all thought I was crazy at first. I knew that courting by the shadow wall would be very different. But I also thought…well…that it might be romantic," he said somewhat sheepishly.

"Romantic?" She felt the flush rise slowly to her cheeks.

"Yes. After all, it allows us to express ourselves in a very pure form."

"Through speech, you mean?"

"Well, yes, but not only that. When I hear your voice, unadorned by anything except the sounds of nature, it is very beautiful. But that is not the only memory I carry away with me. I can also hear the swish of your skirts when you rise, the delicacy of your breath, the quick, light movements of your fingers when you make daisy chains. I can see your silhouette on the wall, and when you tilt your head just so, I think that you are curious, and if it were tilted the other way, that you would be concerned.

"I always hope you are sitting this way, leaning forward slightly with your knees folded beneath you and your ear close to the wall."

"Why?"

"Because it means you are smiling."

Serafina put her fingers to her lips and discovered that it was, in fact, true.

"Well, how do you know that I am not always smiling when we are talking?"

He replied, "Because I think sometimes, like me, you are feeling too deeply to smile. I sit here with my eyes closed, listening to the sound of your breaths so close to mine and thinking that this must be the purest expression of love."

She was quiet for a time, and he was content to let her think. All the things he said this day, and many of things from other days, she tucked away in her memory as greedily as a thief did priceless gems. Only these were offered to her freely, and if she accepted him, they would be hers as long as they loved one another. Every day, it felt like they were moving closer to that time.

Finally, Serafina said, "But perhaps we only notice these things because we cannot see each other."

"It is certainly possible," Dimas acknowledged, "but I think, if we marry, I will still listen for them, and treasure the knowledge that when we first loved, it was for neither appearance nor convenience, but because we had experienced the essence of companionship together."

"Dimas?" she said, a little breathlessly.

"Yes, Serafina?"

"I feel the same way."

"Serafina, I need an answer from you. Today."

"All right," she said somewhat distractedly, trying to shade her eyes against the brilliant sun. The house was completely empty, but for her and Samuel, whose turn it was to chaperone her. Early in the morning, the women had gone to Violeta de Santangel's to help with the birth of her third child, and the rest of the men had been called away to a neighboring farm to help put out a fire. She hoped it didn't spread to the rest of the buildings. Fires were always dangerous at this time of year when the land was so dry.

"So?"

"What was the question?"

He swore. "Serafina, we are running out of time. You know how I feel about you. Nothing would make me happier at this moment than if you were to accept me. So please, will you marry me?"

"Damían… I like you. Really, I do. But I can't give you an answer yet." She had just about decided she wanted to marry Dimas, but both common sense and tradition dictated that she tell her father and Dimas first.

"You must. Serafina, please. I need to know."

She wiped her forehead, growing tired of this conversation they must have had a dozen times over already. "Very well, then. My answer is no. I'm sorry, Damían."

"I, too, Serafina. I'm sorry to do this."

"Do what?" She glanced around nervously, looking for Samuel. Of course he hadn't been with her since Damían first arrived; he was probably hanging out the front window, looking for a sign of the men's return and chafing at having to stay here with her.

"Be quiet and get behind that big pot on your left," he ordered.

"But–"

"If you value your life, you will do as I say and don't say another word," he whispered.

Serafina gathered her skirts in her hand and crouched behind the planter, wondering what could be happening. Damían had been growing more and more serious with each visit, but he had never said anything like this to her before. Now that they were quiet, she could hear the sound of a rider approaching.

"Damían! Do you have the wench?"

"What are you doing here, Rubén? This is my affair. I will handle it."

"The Wiseman has no more patience for your dawdling ways. He sent me to bring you and the girl back…or just the girl."

"You're lying. He trusts me to do this," Damían said confidently.

A sneering laugh rang through the air, and Serafina fought the urge to cover her ears at the ugly sound. "Really? It seems to me like he figured out that the de Salazar brothers are just as useless as the rest of the family."

Serafina felt her blood run cold. Along with the mysterious Wiseman, the de Salazers were the ringleaders of the Oscura Luna. Her former suitor, the man who was supposed to be Damían de Carmona, was her family's mortal enemy.

"Santos is dead."

"What?"

For the first time, she heard true emotion in his voice.

"Your brother's dead," Rubén repeated. "They caught Priscila setting the fires, and he wouldn't leave her behind. Wiseman killed him to keep him from revealing our location."

In Damían's silence lurked the double shades of belief and betrayal.

"So, where is this girl of yours?" Rubén asked, as cheerfully as he had spoken of murder. "Right behind this wall, listening to our every word?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Damían said. "She went inside the house to get some water."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go inside and get her."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"She's not here anymore. I told her the truth. Sent her and everyone else in the house to the de Santangels' place. You'll never get to her there; it's like a fortress."

Rubén's vicious curses turned the air blue. "You traitor."

"You're the traitor! Santos was my brother, but he was also your cousin."

"He deserved what was coming to him, the little coward. Everyone always thought the de Salazars were so special, but they ran the Oscura Luna into the ground. We'll do better without you."

Damían laughed harshly. "I'd like to see you try."

Serafina glanced desperately towards the house, hoping Samuel wouldn't come running out in his usual rambunctious way. She needed to warn him of the danger, and they both needed to get away from here. But could she count on them not hearing her footsteps?

She turned back, unable to keep her eyes from watching the shadow play being enacted on the wall. After a blurred scuffle, Damían appeared to be leaning over the other figure, two knives in each hand.

"You always were sloppy. And slow." He got up, sheathing the extra knives he had taken off Rubén, and walked towards his horse. "Get out of here–"

He didn't get further than that before Rubén flung himself at him.

"And you always turned your back too quickly."

Rubén gave the fallen figure a hard kick, then headed for the horses. As she heard the approach of yet another horse, Serafina curled herself into an even smaller ball, feeling soundless tears run down her cheeks.

"Rubén! You killed Damían?" a new, female voice asked.

"I had to, Carmen. He betrayed us. He claims he sent the girl to the de Santangels. I'm sure they've taken it with them, but search the house anyway. Meet me back at the river in an hour's time," he commanded.

"And where are you going?"

"To make sure he was telling me the truth before I report back to Wiseman. He will be furious enough as it is; better not give him more reason to take it out on us."

With that, Rubén slung himself into the saddle and rode away, and Serafina heard Carmen's footsteps disappearing around to the front of the house. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she would find, and ripped through the delicate courting wall.

A tall man with hair as pale as moonlight lay nearby, his eyes closed and his face white. The knife protruding from his chest told her there was no saving him.

"Damían…"

He opened his eyes with a grimace. "You're still here? You should go. Carmen…always listens to Rubén."

"I will. But you – I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." He smiled faintly. "I was going to give you to them, remember?"

He had been watching her avidly, drinking in the features that until now had been hidden from him. His faltering gaze stopped, and he laughed painfully, disbelievingly. "You wear the Cristal around your neck? A priceless artifact like that?"

"What? You mean my mother's necklace?" She wrapped her hand around it protectively.

"Yes, the Cristal. It's your family's oldest heirloom, and it has…powers. The power to keep you safe…or the power to destroy the world. Keep it hidden, Serafina." His voice died to a whisper as he said her name, but as she knelt beside him to say the last rites, she thought she heard him mumble one more word. "Santos."

The minute she was done, she rose, pale but dry-eyed. No matter what monster Carmen was, she had to save her brother. The sound of yet another person approaching made her flinch, and she ran to conceal herself behind the planter again.

As she peered around it, she saw a man with coal-black hair enter the yard. When he saw Damían and the ruined remains of the shadow wall, his eyes widened, and he ran forward in dismay. "Serafina? What happened here? Serafina!"

Before he could shout her name again, she stood up. "Shh!"

He stared at her with river-blue eyes. "Are you Serafina de Luna?"

She nodded firmly. "Dimas de Teran?"

He smiled briefly, seeing her say his name for the first time. "Yes. We were to meet today, if I recall correctly. What happened here?"

Her lips trembled, but she clenched her fists tightly at her sides. "He was a member of the Oscura Luna, in disguise. One of the de Salazar brothers. But he was killed by another one of the Oscura Luna, and now there's another one in the house, a woman. My brother is in there. I need to rescue him."

Dimas nodded, doing his best to assimilate this information. "Are there any others of your family inside? No? Good. Can you ride?" When she nodded, he said, "Take my horse, and ride for the nearest safe place you know of. Send help. I will find your brother."

"No, I'm staying with you."

"It's not safe."

She looked back at him levelly. "He's my brother."

He sighed. "Already, I know better than to argue with you," he said dryly. "Well, stay behind me, all right?"

Serafina did as she was told.

Dimas glanced back at her as they headed into the cool darkness of the house. "Don't worry, Serafina. We will find him," he said quietly.

She nodded once, grateful for the reassurance and the calm promise in his voice.

They set off, peering into all the rooms along the way until they heard the sound of a struggle. Serafina held back a cry when she saw Samuel, who had a black eye and a long cut down his arm. He was thrashing furiously in his captor's grip.

"Stay still, you pest," she ordered, trying to bind his wrists.

Dimas motioned at her to stay put, then circled around, planning to come up on Carmen from behind. He had his knives, of course, but he preferred not to kill women. Particularly with Samuel in such close range.

Guessing his plan, Serafina tried to think of a distraction that would keep Carmen from noticing him. When the woman raised her hand to deal him another hard slap, she ran forward and cried, "Stop!"

Carmen looked up. "So your sister is here, you little liar."

"Serafina, no!"

Carmen jerked him up and held him against her. "One step closer, and he dies."

Both Serafina and Dimas froze in place. She said, "Please don't kill him. It's the Cristal you want, isn't it? I have it. I'll give it to you. Only let him go."

Carmen's eyes widened when she saw the glittering orb hanging around Serafina's neck. "Very well. Take it off, and throw it to me. Slowly. Then I'll release your brother."

She did as she was told, figuring Dimas would take the most opportune moment, when all of Carmen's attention was focused on her, to disarm her. But when she unhooked the clasp and held out her hand to catch the crystal and the coiled chain, a blinding white light filled the room the moment her fingers touched the crystal.

When the light cleared, she was in Samuel's fierce embrace, and Dimas had Carmen tied up with her own restraints.

Sergio didn't need to ask if it was someone else. The courting by the shadow wall was concluded; the bans and a wedding date announced.

"I wish we had known each other sooner, Serafina. I will never forget you."

Serafina smiled at him, pleased they could finally talk face to face. Perhaps if they had met a year ago, she would have said he and Dimas somewhat resembled each other. But now, she knew their voices were nothing alike, their footsteps were entirely different, and his half-cocky, half-wistful smile was nothing like Dimas's.

"I'm honored, Sergio. I hope we will stay friends." She set her glass down with a cheerful clink. "And now I have some news for you."

"Better news, I hope," he said, smiling crookedly.

"Yes, very good news. My cousin Zacarías is in Mariposa right now. You remember, I asked him to see to keep an eye out for your Catalina. He talked to someone who saw her quite recently, within the past month."

He left shortly after that, a spring in his step and a jubilant smile on his face. Serafina suspected that he and his brothers would be on their way to Mariposa soon. She wondered if she should have warned Zacarías, who did not like interference, but decided that Emilia, who had finally been found, would keep him in line.

She closed her eyes and settled back against the cushions contentedly, smiling when she heard the sound of a familiar step on the flagstones.

"Hello, Dimas."

"I will never be able to surprise you, will I?" They laughed at the thought, and she exclaimed over the bouquet of red roses he had brought her. When he settled onto the seat beside her, she leaned her head against his shoulder and he took her hand in his.

"Now, we can't have that. Just because you saved me doesn't mean I'll allow you to take such liberties with my sister," Samuel teased as he bounded into the room.

"I believe I was the one who saved you," Serafina said heatedly, "and I can take care of myself!"

Her brother grinned at her and said, "Dimas, come on, I want to show you my new horse!"

Serafina rolled her eyes as Dimas allowed himself to be tugged out of his seat. "I'll come back soon," he promised.

"I can't wait until we're married."

She didn't need to look to see the answering smile on his face, but she did so anyway.

Fin.