Rocío sighed in relief once her brother had left the room, closing her eyes shut. She hadn’t noticed how taxing her lack of sleep had been on her body. Had she known she would faint, she would’ve probably taken an even higher dose of that sleeping medicine earlier, just as Santiago had suggested. Again, she stared at the canopy above her, tracing the details of the crest with her eyes.

“Lady Rocío, would you like me to prepare a bath for you? Or at least a wash basin?” Leticia asked, fixing the blankets on top of her mistress. 

Rocío watched her maid as she stretched over her, patting the pillows and fixing the covers. She caught sight of the golden band around her finger and noted the dark circles under her eyes and how some strands of hair were stuck to her face. 

“Have you slept at all?” Rocío asked, slightly turning.

Letitica offered a soft smile. “You needn’t worry about that, my lady.” She picked up the now empty cup from the bedside table. “My priority is to take care of you.”

Rocío frowned. “Your priority should be your family. Now that you’re married, you should also prioritize your husband. Why don't you go and rest?”

“I am fortunate you think of me,” Leticia held a hand to her chest, “but my husband is working now, and if I go home and rest, I will be up all night. It’s best I stay with you.”

Rocío nodded in silence, still watching her maid’s every move. She busied herself with tidying up the room for the most part. 

“You must be starving, my lady, should I order something for you?” Leticia drew her attention back to Rocío. 

Rocío closed her eyes for a moment. “No, rather, I think a bath might be best for me,” she said as she sat back up, pain in every inch of her body. “Please prepare a warm bath.”

Leticia bowed. “Of course, my lady, I shall see to it.” The young woman left the room in a hurry, closing the heavy door behind herself.

Rocío traced the patterns of the molding on the door as she slowly slipped out of her bed, her feet gently pressing against the fluffy white fur rug underneath her. She sat still, looking at the door as if someone would burst through it. 

Finally she realized that she hadn’t dreamt of those dreaded emerald eyes. She softly breathed in relief. It had been a little over a week that she’d grown afraid of sleep, and she prayed she no longer had to hide from it. With the most strength she could muster up, she pushed herself off the bed and stood, nearly tumbling back on the bed. She was still weak from all the crying, she also felt her eyes were puffy and they were hot.

She then wondered how much of a mess she must’ve looked like when she was found…presumably by the Marquis with what her brother hinted. She wanted to push the thought away, of him looking down at her in her most vulnerable moment. Had he been the one to alert her family? She knew it was most likely useless to hope he wasn’t the one who found her.

Rocío recalled the soft look in his eyes, and the smile he had shared with her brother, then she began to ponder. Why would he want to kill them? Was he wronged by her family in any way? But if he had been, why was he so friendly with Santiago? Had he feigned friendliness and worry? Why?

She sighed, that dreaded question was the only thing on her mind for the past week. She walked to her wardrobe at an agonizingly slow pace. She didn't exactly want to leave her room but she reasoned that dressing somewhat presentable and taking a stroll through the gardens might help her mind calm down a little.

The door creaked open and Rocío looked back. She saw her maid coming in with a concerned look in her eyes.

“My lady, I can get your outfit ready, there’s no need for you to do it yourself. Why don’t you sit down?” Leticia frowned. She hurried over to Rocío and helped her to her bed, even when Rocío protested as best she could. “You really shouldn’t be walking around. The bath is almost ready. How about you sit until then?”

Rocío paused herself from groaning. “I am perfectly capable of doing this myself, Leticia,” she sternly spoke as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Leticia seemed to ignore her as she set her mistress down on the seat that Santiago had occupied; a cream suede armchair. “The baby blue dress with the lace trim is quite light and I feel it would suit you best today. What do you think?”

Rocío groaned before running a hand through her hair in exasperation. “That will do.” She opted not to go against her maid, her mind didn’t have the energy to get into an argument over a simple dress.

Before long, she was ushered to the bathing room and she was helped into the porcelain white tub in the center of the lavender scented room. The water was hot against her skin, just as she liked it. She dipped her feet into the steaming clear blue water and with the help of Leticia, settled into it. Her body was submerged, relaxing into the heat that immersed her. Slowly, Rocío closed her eyes as she eased into her bath.

Leticia washed Rocío’s hair, working the soap into her sweat-matted hair, while another maid used a rough washcloth to clean her arms. She took a deep breath, letting the feeling of the warm water seep into her very being. After Leticia had washed her hair, Rocío asked to be left alone, and without so much as a word, Leticia and the accompanying maid, which if Rocío recalled correctly was named Mauricia, left the bathroom. 

Once she was left alone, Rocío completely submerged herself in the water, her face below the hot surface. She breathed out, the air bubbles rising. She felt the tingling of her fingertips as they burned from the heat. She surfaced and took another deep breath, running her hands over her face to rid herself of the water and push her hair back. 

She loved the hot water and how effective it was at soothing her mind. Sometimes the longer she stayed in the tub, the more her mind cleared, even if her fingertips wrinkled like raisins. 

Then a few thoughts slithered into Rocío’s mind. If this truly was the future–the dream she was having– could she alter it as she had with her brother the previous time? Could she alter it by becoming more acquainted with the Marquis? Or was that what would lead them to their death?

If she could somehow convince him, keep him on her side, maybe even so far as to manipulate him to leave them be…would that be enough to save the House of Estella?