Free The Shores of Spain by J. Kathleen Cheney

the sunlight in the courtyard. “I’ve signed these,” she said. “Are you sure?”
    Shaking his head, Duilio took the cloth from her hand. As her legal advisor, he’d read through the paperwork a couple of times. Despite its being drafted by members of a very different culture, he said the legal terminology was reassuringly similar. He’d asked her grandmother for clarification on several points, and had seemed satisfied with her answers.
    It would mean living here most of the time, but they would be able to travel. There was also an expectation that she would step into her grandmother’s role as a leader among the top families on the island of Amado. That meant a lifetime of political involvement.
    The islands were governed by an oligarchy, with members of all the prominent families serving as a senate. Monteiro was one of the oldest family lines representing Amado in that body. But everyone knew the true power lay in the elders of only five family lines, all of them on Quitos. That concentration of power on Quitos kept the other islands from seizing control of the archipelago.
    Until recently Oriana wouldn’t have liked the idea of service in the government, but the past few months as ambassador had allowed her to explore her views on political matters. She’d developed aspirations of activism, both on behalf of Northern Portugal, of which she was now a citizen, and the males of these islands. While in Portugal, she’d experienced the constraints under which women there lived. Duilio lived with similar restrictions now, even on Amado, and she didn’t want that for him. Or for their children.
    His warm eyes met hers. “I understand these documents. I know what they say.”
    “And will you forgive me for signing them?”
    She had nearly refused to marry him for fear that she would have to live out her life pretending to be a human woman. Now he would have to spend most of his life in the role of a sereia male. But he merely picked up the papers, secured them with a clip, and took them to the door. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
    The guard outside the door bore the papers away on Duilio’s request to Grandmother’s head of staff. Duilio came back into the bedroom and locked the door behind him. “Now stop worrying about them. The adoption is the least of our problems.”
    She sighed and rested her head back against the wall as he told her of his afternoon’s musings. The thief’s trail only seemed to grow dimmer. Did the woman still have the journal with her? And where did Costa fit in to all this? Duilio’s gift seemed confident they’d find the lieutenant alive, but the man had vanished like a mist as well.
    After Duilio finished, she asked, “So, did you decide about your letter to Joaquim?”
    “Yes,” he said. “I’m not going to post it. There has to be someone other than Joaquim we can send to Spain. Besides, he barely speaks Spanish.”
    They’d chosen not to contact the Portuguese Foreign Office. It wasn’t a lack of faith in their own superiors, but instead a distrust of the forbearance of the military. There were too many senior officers waiting for the female military contingent to fail. If they reported the theft of a personal item and the disappearance of an officer to the Portuguese Foreign Office, there would be those in the military who would immediately call for the dissolution of the guard contingent. The women would be thrown out of the army. Given her new awareness of political matters, Oriana suspected that would be a blow to the rights of all women in the country. So she’d decided to keep the matter from the Foreign Office’s ears as long as possible. Since the journal was private property, stolen from a private residence, she had no obligation to tell them.
    Reporting Costa’s absence, however, could only be put off for so long. The other guards had been fed a tale of Costa being on a special mission, although Oriana doubted many of them believed that. Sooner or later