Wait For It
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Elena of Avalor
Copyright: Disney
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"Death doesn't discriminate
Between the sinners and the saints
It takes and it takes and it takes
And we keep living anyway
We rise and we fall and we break
And we make our mistakes
And if there's a reason I'm still alive
When everyone who loves me has died
I'm willing to wait for it (Wait for it)
I'm willing to wait for it"
Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton: An American Musical
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"Open up, in the name of Queen Shuriki!"
Lieutenant Villalobos pounded on the high wooden garden gate. It belonged to a small white cottage in what had been a humble but lively neighborhood, but this evening, all the doors and windows along the street were shut tight.
Esteban sensed the citizens' resentful stares, even through shutters and drawn curtains, and no wonder. It was a terrible task they had been ordered to do.
The gate opened. A pale, dark-haired woman in her thirties looked out with anxious black eyes. Peering out from behind her skirts was a little girl, younger than Isabel, who had the same coloring and looked absolutely furious.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked flatly.
"Are you Graciela and Rafaela?" Villalobos drew himself up, showing off every polished button on his freshly dyed indigo uniform. "Wife and daughter of former Royal Wizard Alacazar?"
"That's right."
"Where's my Papa?" demanded the child, hands on hips. "What did you do with him?"
"Hush now," murmured Graciela, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"Your Papa, little girl, is an enemy of the state," Villalobos sneered. "I wouldn't be too protective of him if I were you. I have a search warrant signed by the Queen herself, authorizing us to search this house and collect any magical paraphernalia he left behind."
He pulled out the scroll from his pocket and shoved it in front of Graciela's nose. She took an involuntary step back.
"We're sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour," Esteban chimed in, "But it will only take a moment."
His attempt to smooth things over with a little civility didn't help. Graciela's face hardened. She was barely recognizable as the pretty woman who used to sit in the front row of Alacazar's magic shows, laughing and clapping while illusions of fiery jaquins soared overhead. Evidently though, she had no trouble recognizing him.
"Don Esteban."
"Chancellor Esteban, actually. As of this morning."
"Chancellor? Well, now. Congratulations. Right this way, then."
Graciela looked him up and down, taking in every stitch of his black coat. He was dressed in full mourning for the late King Raul and Queen Lucia. Shuriki didn't mind – she liked somber colors, and assumed he was wearing black to please her – but he could only imagine what Graciela must think.
Congratulations, Esteban heard between the lines, for setting up your own family to be killed in exchange for a title. Congratulations on a lifetime of doing a tyrant's dirty work for her. I hope you're ashamed of yourself.
As he followed Villalobos down the garden path and into the house, he'd never been more ashamed in all his life. Graciela was just one person and a stranger at that, but she was only the first of many who were going to judge him as the traitor he was. If this was how his life would be from now on, honestly, what did he have to live for?
Alacazar's house must have been a happy home until recently. Esteban could see that. The walls were painted a bright, pale yellow to reflect as much light from the small windows as possible. Houseplants sprawled riotously out of their pots and the bookshelves were full to bursting. A weaving loom took pride of place in the parlor. Esteban remembered the Royal Wizard's signature red robes with their golden thread patterns; Graciela must have woven them right here.
Villalobos ransacked the place with military efficiency. He opened cupboards, rifled through books, rummaged among stacks of clothing and even climbed up into the attic. Esteban hovered behind him, trying to tidy the mess the lieutenant left behind, but that didn't make what they were doing any less of a violation. Graciela and her daughter never took their eyes off the intruders.
"Nothing?" The Royal Guard threw up his hands in frustration. "Oh, come on. You expect me to believe a Royal Wizard lived in a house with no magic whatsoever? No tamboritas, no potions, anything?"
"He took it all with him when he left," said Graciela.
"Did he now?" Villalobos' eyes lit up. "And when was the last time you saw him, Señora?"
He'd backed the woman and the girl up against the kitchen table like a wolf cornering its prey. He wasn't much older than Esteban himself and came from a long line of distinguished military men. The pressure to prove himself by rising up the ranks must be tremendous, but that didn't make his methods any less disturbing to watch.
"Last night, Lieutenant, nine o'clock by the bell tower. He stormed in, packed an enchanted carpetbag and stormed out again. It didn't take long."
"Did he tell you where he was going? Or when he'd be back?"
"He did not."
Rafaella clung to her mother's legs and glared up at the Guard. "You'll never find him," she declared, her tiny voice ringing with conviction. "He's going to free the Princess and save us all."
"Rafa. That's enough." Graciela's voice was stern, but when she scooped up the girl and held her against her hip, her body language spoke of nothing but love and support. "You'll have to excuse her, Señores. She still believes in fairy tales."
"That's all right. We quite understand," said Esteban, shooting a look at his colleague, silently willing him to let the matter go.
Villalobos, however, was not so easily deterred. "How do we know you're telling the truth?" he demanded. "Lying to protect him will do no good, you know. My fellow Guards and I are sure to find him eventually. It's better for everyone if you cooperate, my good woman … especially your little girl."
The implied threat was obvious. Fear filled Graciela's eyes as she held her child tighter. Esteban hadn't been there to see his aunt and uncle die, but he imagined they must have looked like this, holding on to each other in their last moments before Shuriki's curse blasted them. He had to do something.
She thinks I'm a heartless politician, does she? Then that's what I'll show her.
"Lieutenant, try to think." He leaned a condescending elbow on Villalobos' shoulder. The Guard glared and shrugged him off. "What possible reason could the Señora have to lie? Her husband abandoned her, she said so herself. Didn't even tell her where he was going. Does that sound like loyalty to you?"
Graciela winced as if Esteban had struck a nerve. Rafa let out a sob and buried her face in her mother's hair. Villalobos, however, hummed thoughtfully and stroked his chin, considering his case from a whole new angle.
"To leave you so suddenly, and with a child, no less. You must be so angry." Go on, he thought, meeting her eyes head-on. I'm giving you an opening. The ball is in your court.
Whether she understood his intentions or not, she played along.
"Too right I'm angry," she snapped, eyes glittering. "I never thought I'd be so wrong about a person. If I knew where he was, believe me, I'd report the bastard myself."
"Mama, no!" Rafa wailed.
"Huh." Villalobos looked a little taken aback by so much vehemence, but nodded and smiled anyway. "Does that mean you're prepared to divorce him and sever all ties to the old regime?"
"It means exactly that."
She was lying. Her answers were too quick, her words too rehearsed, and her eyes kept flickering to a spot behind the men's backs where a tapestry was hanging. It was a family portrait, with Graciela holding baby Rafa in a lacy christening gown and Alacazar with his arms around them both. The sturdy, auburn-haired man and the dainty brunettes were like a sun and two moons, perfect opposites. No woman who had severed ties with her husband would keep that hanging on the wall.
Esteban thought of another family portrait, hanging in the throne room of the palace: Isabel and their grandparents, their living spirits held within paint and canvas. Shuriki had ordered curtains to hide it because it wasn't in her interest for anyone to remember them, but Esteban knew where it was. He couldn't release them, but Alacazar could someday, as long as the wizard remained alive and free. And if Rafa's declaration just now was true – "He's going to free the Princess and save us all" – that meant Elena might come back as well.
What did Esteban have left to live for? This was the answer.
They'll wait for him, he thought, seeing the iron strength in both pairs of black eyes. For the rest of their lives, if they have to. And so will I.
"Excellent," he said out loud, showing them his best politician's smile. "That's all we needed to know. Now come along, Lieutenant. What do you say we call it a night?"
Esteban ushered Villalobos out of the house and along the path with occasional pats on the back, looking for all the world like they were best friends. Villalobos gave the garden one last suspicious look, like a dog sniffing for a buried bone.
"There." The Guard pointed to a trapdoor in the ground next to the house. "You didn't tell me there was more to the house. I'll have to search there too."
Rafa let out a tiny, muffled squeak of alarm against her mother's shirt collar. Graciela shushed her. That was all Esteban needed to guess exactly where Alacazar's magic supplies had gone.
"The coal cellar?" he drawled, with all the considerable reserves of sarcasm he could muster. "Seriously?"
"We're to search everywhere. Queen's orders."
"The Queen's orders, if I recall, were also to get back to the palace in time for shift change. Do you really want to find out what happens if we're late – and covered in filthy coal dust?"
He flicked imaginary dirt off one of the shiny uniform buttons Villalobos was so proud to wear. The other man gulped.
"Oh, all right, Chancellor. I suppose you know best."
Esteban bowed to Graciela and Rafa. The mother returned the gesture by bobbing a very short curtsey, while the child did not acknowledge him at all. Those two would probably never forgive him, but that didn't matter. Let them be angry – angry enough to dig deep into the contents of their coal cellar and use them where they would do the most good.
"Señora. Señorita. I wish you both a good night, and once again, I am truly sorry for the disturbance."
He meant that more than they would ever know.