The Seventh Sun

by Lani Forbes

  Finally, it was Mayana’s turn. She stepped forward, eyelashes turned down. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roving over her slender yet subtle curves. His pulse thrummed at the way the skin of her legs peeked through the sides of her long blue loincloth skirt, and the way her long dark hair hung to her waist like a waterfall of obsidian. The way she moved even reminded him of water snaking around stones in a river—smooth, graceful … sensual. He shook his head as his thoughts wandered to places they shouldn’t, and he reminded himself to focus on what she held in her hands.

  One of his eyebrows twitched. It was a doll. A doll? He blinked and forced his eyes to look harder, but no, he had not made a mistake. A tiny doll no larger than a finger with a delicate little dress made of patterned blue-and-yellow fabric. It had a little blue shawl wrapped around its orange face and slanting black eyes made of thread. He heard a snort come from one of the other princesses, but he couldn’t see which one. At that, a sliver of doubt at his choice pierced through his heart like a dart. Was she making fun of him? Was this some kind of joke to her?

  “I present to my lord a worry doll.”

  Something about the name “worry doll” tickled the back of his brain, like a memory that danced just out of his reach.

  Metzi took in a breath beside him, understanding dawning on her a little faster that it did for him. “Oh, I loved those as a child,” she breathed.

  Ahkin stood suddenly. Mayana’s eyes went wide with shock and she took a small step back, biting her lip.

  “What is a worry doll?” he demanded, probably more harshly than he meant to.

  “I—they—there is a legend from the time of the first people that a princess was gifted with a doll that could solve any problem. It was a gift from the gods. So—” She hesitated, rubbing the fabric of its skirt between her fingers. “Worry dolls are said to possess magic from the gods. When you tell them your worries, the dolls help to fix them while you sleep.” Their gazes collided across the short distance. Her eyes were deep and endless, pleading with him to understand her meaning. He sat back down.

  “I know that the prince must have many worries, many burdens on his shoulders. It is hard to find joy when the pressures of the world threaten to crush you with their weight. So, I wanted to give Prince Ahkin something that would help relieve his burden, if only a little.”

  With those words, she had ripped the dart of doubt right out of his heart. There was no present she could have gotten that could possibly be more appropriate. He did feel like a little boy, a little boy attempting to wear his father’s headpiece that was much too big for him, a little boy that craved the warm hand of his mother against his cheek. His worries were as heavy as the volcano of Papatlaca. He worried for his kingdom, for the dying sun, for the thousands of lives that now depended on him to keep them safe, for his lack of faith in trusting the will of the gods. Some powerful emotion tightened his throat as he took in the small doll from Mayana’s hand. The gift said, “I know you are burdened, and I wish to help relieve you of your sufferings.” Ahkin immediately forced the emotion down and away—he just couldn’t handle it right now.

  He lifted a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.

  “Thank you, Mayana of Atl. Your gift is more appreciated than you know.”

  He could see the relief spread across her face at his words. Her shoulders relaxed and she gave a small bow before taking a seat on one of the cushions to his left.

  He turned to address his guests.

  “Thank you for joining us in the next step of this sacred selection ritual. Before the meal, I need to make an announcement. As you know, the Nemontemi approaches. It is a dangerous time when the layers of creation are unstable. We will begin our preparations and rituals tomorrow to ensure that we are protected from the evils and spirits that will be roaming the earth at that time. I encourage each of you to do the same in your homes as well, that you may be protected from the bad luck of the last days of the year.”

  There was a general rumble of concerned agreement.

  “Let your minds rest at ease. I intend to have a new empress selected for you before that time comes. Now, let’s enjoy the festivities of the evening and the gifts the gods have given to us.”

  Ahkin lifted his bowl of pulque and signaled for the high priest to commence the sacrifice that would begin the meal. He tried to ignore that fact that the sun was already much lower in the sky than it was supposed to be.

  After the meal, Ahkin’s stomach bulged with deer meat and tortillas. Servants meandered through the rooms with additional bowls of cacao and smoking pipes while the dancers and musicians prepared for the night’s performance.

  “Can I see the doll?” Metzi asked, picking it up before Ahkin could give her an answer. Their gourd bowls lay empty aside from several leftover crumbs, waiting for servants to come and remove them.

  “Go ahead,” Ahkin said. “I always love how you ask before you take things.”

  “Where do you think I learned it? It’s not like you ever ask my permission about anything.”

  “Will you two stop bickering?” Atanzah chimed in, though she gave them both a good-natured grin. “Now that your mother is no longer here to tell you that, I feel it is my responsibility as her oldest friend to keep the both of you on your best behavior.”

  Ahkin chuckled and tilted his head toward the old woman. “You do realize, Atanzah, I could choose a different matchmaker to oversee the selection ritual?”

  “But no one will oversee a wedding like the one I have planned for you.” She patted Ahkin’s cheek in a loving way before removing his empty bowls. Ahkin rolled his eyes at the old matchmaker.

  “Oh, it’s charming,” Metzi cooed, smoothing back the threaded hair of the worry doll. “And I love how it is so small, you could carry it around with you all the time.”

  Ahkin grunted an acknowledgment. He didn’t want to let his sister know how touched he had been by Mayana’s gift. An accomplished warrior should not be happy to receive a doll, after all.

  “Just imagine, you could tie it to the end of your macana sword. General Yaotl would be so impressed.” She thrust the doll into his face and shook it, her laughter filling his ears.

  Ahkin snatched the doll away from her and tucked it under his leg. Metzi’s lower lip jutted out into a familiar pout.

  The rapid beats of the drums suddenly filled the room, accompanied by the hiss of rice- and bean-filled gourds.

  “Just enjoy the festivities, dear sister.”

  “Dance with me.” Metzi’s face lit up like the temple in the light of the newly risen sun. She gripped his hand and shook it up and down in short, jerky movements.

  “I don’t dance.”

  “You must show the daughters of the noble families what a terrible dancer you are.”

  “I don’t dance,” Ahkin repeated, all teasing drained from his voice.

  “What is a battle but a dance between warriors? Come on, dear brother, if we are lucky, several of the girls may volunteer to be sacrificed rather than marry you. Besides, once you ship me off to Ehecatl to marry their boring, pious prince, we won’t have as many chances to irritate each other.”

  Ahkin growled but reluctantly let his twin drag him onto his feet.

  Chapter

  22

  Mayana looked up as Ahkin let his sister pull him into the center of the room. The look on his face clearly said he didn’t want to be there. The music of the drums and shaking gourds intensified, and the dancers in costumes welcomed the prince and princess into their midst.

  Metzi seemed to be halfway dragging the prince through the first few drumbeat cycles before he joined her in the choreographed movements of the dance. Mayana couldn’t help but notice how lithe and light on his feet the prince was. He jumped and spun and stomped his feet as well as any of the dancers on the floor. Mayana leaned her chin on her hand and lost herself in th
e movement of the muscles of his legs … of his wide shoulders.

  “Careful, daughter of water, or you are going to start drooling all over your sandals.” Yoli nudged Mayana with her shoulder.

  “What?” She jerked her chin up.

  Yoli laughed. “You’re as pathetic as Teniza. Fawning over the prince like he’s Quetzalcoatl himself come back from the underworld.”

  “I am not.” Mayana rubbed her elbow where it had slipped and hit the wooden table.

  “Teniza fawns over the prince?” Yemania leaned across Mayana to get a better look at Yoli.

  The fire princess absently bit at the obsidian ring on her lip and shrugged.

  “Yeah, the cornstalk spent the whole hour before the feast going on and on about how handsome he is. I wanted to gouge my eyes out.” Yoli lifted the tip of her obsidian shard toward her eyes.

  “Let’s refrain from any eye-gouging during the feast, please.” Mayana placed her hand gently on Yoli’s wrist and lowered the shard away from her face.

  “Fine,” Yoli said. “But I can’t make any promises about after the feast.”

  Mayana gave a quick laugh but Yemania looked nothing short of terrified. She obviously didn’t get Yoli’s humor at all.

  “Don’t you think Prince Ahkin is handsome?” Yemania eyed the obsidian shard like it was a snake about to bite her.

  “I’d definitely rather look at him than the backside of a capybara, if that’s what you mean.”

  Mayana snorted into her cacao drink and then sputtered as she choked on it. Yemania thumped her on the back and glared at Yoli.

  “Relax, daughter of Pahtia. I am no competition to either of you. I know the prince will not choose me. I’m not afraid to begin my trek through the underworld.”

  Yemania’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Aren’t you afraid of the pain of how they will kill us, at least?”

  Yoli’s expression went flat as she tilted her head down to survey Yemania.

  “Really?” She twirled her weapon between her fingers again. “You think I would be afraid of the pain?”

  Yemania leaned back so that Mayana blocked their view of each other.

  “There’s something wrong with her,” Yemania whispered, shaking her head slowly.

  “There’s something wrong with all of you.” Zorrah sneered and leaned over from Yoli’s other side.

  “Nice gift,” Mayana said, narrowing her eyes at the animal princess. “How did you ever afford to buy such an expensive headpiece with only ten beans?”

  “Oh, you know, I found some extra ones that some careless person must have left lying around.” Zorrah widened her eyes innocently.

  “You’re just scared the prince will pick Mayana.” Yoli flicked a kernel of corn at Zorrah, but she batted it away with a hiss.

  “Careful, fire princess.” Her eyes flashed dangerously.

  “Why? The worst you can do is send me to the underworld, and I’m going there anyway. You’d just speed up the process.”

  “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?” Zorrah brushed her long ponytail over her shoulder as she spoke.

  “Like you, you mean? You are a beast yourself, princess of beasts. Your determination to save your own skin is evident to us all.” Yoli waved a dismissive hand and laughed.

  Zorrah glared, obviously seething with a fury that could rival the bloodlust of a wolf. Mayana understood Zorrah’s anger, her desperation. Competition was a way of life to her. She just didn’t want to lose—that was a feeling Mayana could relate to. Mayana simply had entirely different methods of winning the prince’s heart.

  She took another bite of meat, chewing it thoughtfully as she watched Ahkin dance with Metzi. Her heart swelled with admiration as a smile broke across his face, finally allowing himself to get swept up in the passion of the music. He was so serious and calculating at times that she loved seeing those moments when he softened. Mayana made it a personal mission to see as many of them as she could before … well, the end. One way or another.

  “I’m surprised you can handle eating meat without crying,” Zorrah’s voice said casually.

  Mayana swallowed as Yoli and Yemania both turned to face her. Yemania’s lip trembled while Yoli cocked her head to the side.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Zorrah.” Mayana tried to keep her voice steady.

  “I think you do, and it will be interesting to see how long you can keep your particular … aversion a secret from the prince.”

  “What aversion?” Yoli raised an eyebrow.

  “I have no idea what she’s talking about.” Mayana tore a tortilla in half and shoved it into her mouth. Yemania looked determinedly at her lap as she twisted her hands.

  “Mayana, would you like to dance?” said a low voice.

  Mayana swallowed the tortilla before it was fully chewed, making her throat ache. Why did his voice already sound so familiar? Her pulse pounded behind her ears as she lifted her gaze to meet Prince Ahkin’s. He stood above her, hand outstretched and waiting. She glanced sideways at Yemania, whose mouth formed a perfect circle of surprise, and then at Yoli, who nodded her head toward the prince as if to say Well? What are you waiting for? Mayana imagined every eye in the room fixed on her as she slowly slipped her hand into his and rose to her feet.

  Mayana followed him toward the other dancers, sure she was going to trip and land in the brazier. Her stomach churned as if she had swallowed snakes. She focused on her feet, making sure that they functioned properly, and on the warm, soft hand that was wrapped around hers.

  He must use pigeon cream on his hands. She smiled at the thought.

  When she lifted her gaze, he was smiling at her. Her face flushed warmer than the brazier fire.

  His feet began to move in quick stomping motions in time with the almost impossibly fast drumbeats that pounded within Mayana’s chest. He released her hand and spread his arms wide as he moved with the beat, kicking out his legs in time with the other dancers. She took a deep breath and let the music sweep her along with him.

  Mayana thought the biggest risk would be getting hit in the face with feathers from one of the enormous headdresses of the nobility and dancers twirling around her like giant, wild turkeys. Some of them were literally taller than the person wearing them. Many of the dancers carried instruments rattling with dried beans, jingling bells around their ankles, and shields adorned with feathers. She secretly thanked Ometeotl that her father had made sure she learned the fast-paced footwork of the celebratory feast dances.

  The tempo of the drums picked up to a near frenzy and Mayana’s heart beat its own frantic rhythm from the exertion of the dance. Yells and cheers from those around her called out between rhythms. It was easy to get lost in the intensity of it all, in the haze of herb smoke from the pipes hovering around them and the throbbing in her head from the fermented pulque drink.

  The Chicome viewed their dances as a form of prayer, a way to communicate with the gods. Mayana completely understood—the emotion of the music and the movements brought literal tears to her eyes. When the music finally stopped, the prince reached forward and wiped a tear from her cheek. His chest heaved, and his breathing was as heavy as hers. As his thumb brushed across her skin, she reached her hand up and held it briefly over his.

  It was as if the world around them did not exist. She was alone, alone with this sun-god-made-flesh whose gaze bored into her eyes with a look of such intensity she feared she might burst into flame. His hand was against her cheek, so warm, so close. Ahkin took a step toward her, closing the distance between their bodies until he stood only inches from her. Mayana didn’t think she could breathe any harder and faster than she already was.

  A series of excited, earsplitting yells shattered their isolation as one of the dancers moved through the crowd holding a bowl of fire in his hands. He placed the bowl on the ground and motion
ed for the drums to begin the next dance, the dance to honor the god of fire.

  As if she had been doused in cold water, awareness of her surroundings cleared Mayana’s mind. Her gaze focused over Ahkin’s shoulder and settled on the tear-stricken form of Yemania, fear and heartbreak painted as clearly on her face as the paint swirling across her cheeks.

  And next to her, the murderous glare of Zorrah chilled Mayana to her bones.

  Chapter

  23

  Mayana removed her headdress and placed it on one of the baskets her aunts had packed for her. Her soul seemed to grow lighter with each piece of jewelry she discarded.

  She threw herself onto her bed mat, not even bothering to change her clothes, and burrowed into the rabbit furs. She had tried to talk to Yemania after the feast ended, but the daughter of healing ran back to her room before Mayana got the chance.

  She had hovered outside of Yemania’s curtain for a good ten minutes, debating whether or not to go in, but Yemania’s sobs could be heard even out in the hall. Mayana didn’t know if she was crying because the prince obviously favored someone other than her, because this meant the selection and her death were drawing near, or because Mayana might not be there with her when she did die. Maybe it was a combination of the three.

  While Yemania was the type to dissolve into tears and accept the cruelty of her fate, Zorrah was not the type to give up without a fight. And this made her more and more dangerous. She had already sent a jaguar after Mayana and tried to ruin the trial of the gifts, and Mayana didn’t doubt for a moment that Zorrah would try again. Her only hope was that the protection of the prince would deter the animal princess, but she wouldn’t count on that.

  Her stomach tightened as she remembered Zorrah’s taunt about the deer meat. The prince currently thought her an example of dedication to the rituals, not someone who questioned and fought against them.