Woven in Moonlight

by Isabel Ibañez

  He pauses, eyebrows raised expectantly. He looks past me, toward the doors, as if he wants out of the rain and to relay his news within the keep. I scoff. I’ll die before I let a Llacsan cross our threshold. Next he’ll be wanting to see our mountain spring.

  “Well? What is it?” I say, careful to keep my voice emotionless.

  “His Royal Highness, the wondrous Lord of all the land and—”

  “Spare me,” I snap. “What’s the message?”

  One of the Llacsans murmurs disapprovingly. They throw uneasy glances at the Illustrians watching their every move. Some begin to whisper in their old language.

  I don’t care un pepino what these people think about me.

  The messenger’s brows slam together. “You’re to be his wife.”

  I laugh.

  Outrage erupts among our guards. They all step closer, snarling and cursing. Sofía glares at the Llacsan messenger and raises her sword until the tip is level with his heart. Another guard notches her arrow and aims it at the tallest Llacsan in the group. I can’t help but glance over my shoulder to our bedroom window, hoping she heard that outrageous proposition. Though I probably shouldn’t have laughed. It’s the kind of behavior she disapproves of.

  “You’ve traveled all this way for nothing,” I say. “I’ll never be his wife.”

  “That’s not the entire message. You’re to report to the castillo by sundown. Alone. Should you refuse, the Illustrians we’ve rounded up will be executed, one by one.” He leans forward and adds conversationally, “I believe you’re missing a certain general and her fellow soldiers?”

  Ana.

  The pain in my chest makes it hard to breathe.

  My eyes snap to Sofía. She presses a fist against her mouth and lets out a high keen.

  That bastard. I clench my fists, blinking back tears. “Where are they?”

  “In the castillo dungeons. Or the prison. Or tucked away in some remote estate.” The messenger shrugs. “I honestly couldn’t say. They are out of your reach, that’s all I know. But their lives will be spared the moment you become His Majesty’s wife.”

  The messenger turns to leave, signaling his companions to pick up their weapons. Our guards move out of the way to let them pass, but the messenger pauses. He looks over his shoulder at me and smiles again—catlike—his white teeth gleaming.

  The smile snaps me back.

  The words rip out of me. “Kill them all.”

  The Llacsans barely have time to register the command before the guards start hacking. I turn away, Sofía at my heels, and stride to the double doors, the sounds of clanging steel and horrified shouts bellowing in my wake.

  I wish I could’ve given the order twice.

  CAPÍTULO

  Catalina sits across from me at one of the rectangular wooden tables in the great hall, quiet and grim. The hall is empty and we’re alone. I fidget on a stool, catching myself as it wobbles under my weight. She fiddles with the sleeves of her cotton shirt, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “Out with it,” I say.

  She spears me with a glare. “What a time to lose your temper—you had them killed?”

  I almost choke on my anger. “They kidnapped Ana and the others. What would you have done? Invited them in for breakfast? Have them sit down with us, serve them eggs and coffee—without sugar, by the way, because we’re out—and eat together like we’re all—”

  “I wouldn’t have acted impulsively,” she says. “You have no idea who that messenger was. What position he held in the castillo. Do you understand what I’m saying? You may have just murdered members of Atoc’s family.”

  I gather the frayed edges of my dignity. My words come out measured, my shoulders straight. “We are at war.” Have been since the day Atoc came down from the mountain with his earthquakes and ghost army and killed everything and everyone I loved.

  “Not every fight can be won with fists and swords,” she says softly.

  I don’t have time for this. I didn’t want to appear weak, so I met him with strength. I did the right thing.

  “You’ll take Sofía with you,” the condesa says. “As protection. Luna knows what you’ll be walking into, especially after what you did today.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” I mumble, trying to hide my blush. Maybe I had been a bit reckless.

  “Ana would want her to go with you.” She tugs on the ends of her long hair. “But it’s your choice. I can’t believe this is happening. There are too many unforeseeable outcomes. The stars will be impossible to read.”

  My fingers tap the table and I continue to fidget on the stool. The space between us seems to grow as if the table stretches for miles. “It’s the best move we have,” I say gently. “I’ll be situated in the castillo.”

  “You’ll be a spy—like Ana,” she says.

  “So?”

  “It’s risky. What if you end up married to the false king?”

  I wave my hand dismissively. “He’s a peacock! The wedding will take months to prepare. He’ll want a ceremony, weeks-long festivities, and visits from foreign dignitaries to see all of his riches. There’re the invitations and food, making space for all the guests. The new queen will need to be crowned. We have at least six months. Maybe more. We’ve never had this kind of access before.”

  “Six months isn’t a long time.”

  “It’s long enough.” I reach across the table for her. “And with the Estrella missing …”

  Catalina grabs my hand. “Ximena. I saw it.”

  “¿Qué?”

  Her voice drops to a soft hush. “I think the stars have been trying to tell me about the Estrella. It’s still in the castillo, but Atoc isn’t wearing it anymore—why? To keep it safe?”

  I exhale slowly. If the Estrella is still in the castillo, but not on Atoc’s person, I might be able to find out what happened to it, or even take it. If we have power over the ghost army … Hope surges like a weed, taking root within me. But I quash the feeling. This isn’t the first time her predications have given me a false sense of hope.

  “I’m sorry.” Catalina shrugs helplessly, letting go of my hand. “I wanted to say something last night, but I didn’t know for sure if what I read was real. I still don’t know.” She resumes tugging at the ends of her hair, eyes squeezed tightly as she whispers, “It should be me going.”

  I stretch my hand across the table and touch her wrist. She smiles—a sad sort of smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. It dawns on me that she’s afraid for me. I want to reassure her that I’ll be fine, that I’ll come back alive and with the Estrella, but I keep silent. We both know I’d be lying.

  This mission isn’t about me, anyway. It’s about Inkasisa. Our people. Her.

  “You’re our people’s hope,” I say. “You know this. Stay out of sight until we can clear a path to the throne.”

  “Marrying the pretender gets me to the throne.”

  My jaw drops.

  “It does,” she says. “Once there I could—I could—”

  “What? Kill him?” I ask, my voice sharp. Her. This is the girl who still practices with a wooden sword. A prop. Because of Ana, she knows the basics of a sword. And by basics, I mean she knows to hold the blade upright and to point the tip away from her. She’s always preferred to strategize and plan for the revolt: What supplies would we need? When would we strike? How could we take fewer casualties on our side?

  The business of fighting and getting her hands dirty? She leaves that to me.

  “Fine,” she says. “Go.”

  I force my face into a neutral expression. Does she not believe in me? This is the why behind the long years of my pretending to be someone else. It’s the reason I don’t answer to my own name. The reason I’ve spent so many hours on the training field and why I accept the walls that cage me in. We’ll never have a better chance. I’ll never have a better chance to avenge my parents, to make Ana proud, to get to the other side of this war and finally, finally, have my own life.

 
I steady my voice. “I’ll figure out a way to send word when I get there.”

  “Use your weaving,” she says suddenly. “You stitch secret words into your tapestries all the time.”

  I didn’t know she paid that much attention. “In what world would Atoc let me send a tapestry to the fortress?”

  She blows out a breath. “I don’t know—but there has to be a way.”

  Was there? I think about it, discarding one idea after another until I land on something that might work. I could, perhaps, slip the tapestry somewhere our spies could read it. “You’re going to have to keep a close watch on the castillo. Assign someone to walk the perimeter, the market, even the front gates. I’ll throw the tapestry out the window if I have to. It’s a good idea.”

  Catalina’s gaze snags on one of my tapestries hanging in the hall: a scene depicting a shooting star escaping dense, puffy clouds, my favorite scene to weave. “You’ve come really far with your weaving. Luna’s given you an incredible talent.”

  The way she says it makes me wonder if it’s meant to be a compliment, but her tone sounds forlorn, as if my magic cheapens hers. Which doesn’t make any sense. She can read the stars, whereas I merely copy them. Catalina holds the fate of Illustrians in her hands.

  I hold wool.

  Silence balances between us, tilting and tensing with each breath, until she finally sighs. “All I want is to make things like they used to be. The Llacsans are ruining everything. I feel like La Ciudad is tainted. Madre de Luna, I hate them. How will I ever get it back to the way it was?”

  “You’ll have help,” I say. “And this time we’ll drive out the Llacsans for good.”

  For a moment Catalina only stares at me until she gives a little nod. She heads to the door, shoulders straight, and places her hand lightly on the handle. “I believe you. And, Ximena?”

  “¿Qué?”

  “Pack my hairbrush.”

  I head straight for our room to pack. I don’t have much, but it all goes into my bag: tunics, pants, a couple of belts made of llama wool, and one worn leather jacket. I’ll have to leave my loom behind. There’s no way I can squeeze it into my bag, but I’m not worried. A Llacsan sits on the throne; he’s bound to have one in the castillo. The Llacsans prize their weavers and their skill for creating beautiful tapestries that tell the story of Inkasisa. Tapestries are often given as gifts, and it’s quite an honor to receive one.

  Underneath Catalina’s skirt and tunic I slip on my scuffed leather boots and hide four slim daggers in sewn-on pockets. The ritual calms me for a moment.

  I settle onto the narrow bed and think about my mission: discover what happened to the Estrella and figure out a way to communicate with the spies.

  I pray to Luna I can do both without giving myself away.

  The door to the room opens, and Sofía barrels in. She moves like a bull, her footsteps heavy and her chest pitched forward as if she’s moments from charging.

  She eyes my small bag. “That’s it?”

  “All I have,” I say.

  She tucks a strand of hair that’s escaped my bun behind my ear. “I think what you’re doing is incredibly brave.”

  I duck my head, surprised by the sudden prickling feeling at the back of my eyes.

  “Has Catalina seen your hair?” she asks. “Were you going for a tilted side bun?”

  I half laugh, half groan.

  “I can fix it.” She tugs at the knots until my eyes water. I’ve spent countless hours at her hands. Not just help with my snarls, but with combat training and discussing which boys among our guard to stay away from. She’s older, faster, and tougher, but I’ve never held it against her. It’s nice knowing someone has my back.

  “Catalina suggested you come with me.”

  Sofía stops braiding. “Do you want me to?”

  I waver between anger and impatience, and then move to crippling fear. The kind of fear that quickens the beat of my heart and makes my breath come out in shallow puffs. The kind of fear that makes me want to hide underneath my bed. Madre de Luna. Am I willingly riding to my death? I want to be brave. Like Ana, who risks her life so we can have something to eat. But even she takes people with her whenever she ventures into La Ciudad.

  I swallow. “I don’t think I can go alone.”

  Sofía finishes braiding my hair. “Then I’ll come and help kill the bastard who took my mother. I’ll go as your maid. Let me do the fighting, should it come to that. You want them thinking the condesa is weak, body and mind.”

  I nod. “They could hardly expect the condesa to travel without her personal maid.”

  “Don’t lose your temper,” she warns. “I don’t care how many of those slingshots they point at us—”

  “They’re called huaracas.” I hand her a pin to secure the braid at the top of my head.

  Sofía’s eyes light up. “Didn’t you try using one at some point during training?” She claps her hands. “Yes! You broke five windows! And someone’s nose.”

  “It was someone’s foot, actually,” I mutter.

  Sofía’s shoulders shake with mirth. “That’s right!”

  I cover my face with my palms. “Can’t you just forget about that?”

  She lets out a hoot of laughter.

  It’s not that funny. I move my hands away so I can glare at her.

  “Just trying to make you smile”—she reaches over to give me a hug—“or get angry. Better than being afraid. For a minute you looked like you were going to be sick.”

  Warmth floods my cheeks. “I did not,” I grumble, untangling myself from her arms.

  “You did too. I’m-going-to-throw-up sick.”

  “I think your vision needs checking.” I stand, impatient to get on the road. I grab my bag and race down the tower, through the great hall, and out into the courtyard, Sofía at my heels.

  And I gasp.

  Everyone, and I mean everyone, is standing outside in the courtyard. Their faces are pinched, lips tight and eyes drawn. I read the confusion, the fear, etched into their faces. They believe their condesa is leaving them, and it would jeopardize Catalina to tell them otherwise. Twilight casts the white stone of the keep in a golden glow. At the front of the crowd is Catalina, who looks like she’s desperately trying not to cry. She steps forward and embraces me. I’m rarely affectionate with her in public, but I don’t mind this last goodbye. Who knows when I’ll see her again? If I’m honest, I need the moment just as much as she does.

  “It’s up to you, Ximena,” she whispers in the dying light. “Say something to reassure them. They need to hear you’re all right.”

  I nod, my face warm. “I will, and I won’t let you down.”

  “I know.” She takes a step back, giving me room.

  I turn to address the assembly. They’re oddly silent, standing with tense shoulders and worried expressions. Fear mingles in the air, hovering close like a dense fog. I didn’t expect to make a speech. It’s the worst part of pretending to be the condesa.

  My throat goes dry, and I pull at the hem of my tunic. “Thank you for the send-off,” I say, and even to my own ears my voice sounds stiff. I clear my throat. “I know many of you are afraid of what might happen to me. Please don’t be. Everything … everything will be fine.”

  Catalina clicks her tongue impatiently.

  “I want …” Madre de Luna, what do I want? I want them to survive. “I want you all to remember there’s very little food in the storage building—please be mindful of what you’re consuming while I’m gone.”

  Catalina steps forward and clears her throat loudly. “The condesa wishes to make Inkasisa safe for all of us. Being in the castillo will give her extraordinary access to our enemy and his secrets. She’ll discover his weakness, and we’ll use whatever means necessary to make him pay for what he’s done to Inkasisa,” she says, her eyes bright and shining. “What they’ve done to our homes, our way of life—but more than anything, we will make them pay for what they did to our families. She has a plan
for our survival and with it we’ll rise against the usurper!”

  Half-hearted cheers follow. There are a few who clap, but I sense their unease. They might be a little mollified, but after years of hunger and hiding, I can understand their caution.

  Sweat trickles down my back. Shifting my feet, I glance at Sofía, who winks at me. She knows how much I want to be on my way.

  I nod in the general direction of the crowd. To get to the stables, I have to walk through everyone and past the cinnamon and papaya trees Ana helped me plant when I first came to the keep. With a deep breath, I take my first step and the people shuffle aside, making room for me. The guards hold their swords upright to their faces, the blades flat against their foreheads.

  The gesture demonstrates profound respect.

  But it’s respect for someone else—for the condesa they think I am.

  Sofía trails behind me as we pass the upturned dirt of fresh graves, the last resting place of the messenger and his companions. All thirteen of them. We climb onto our horses and gallop toward the towers, kicking up dust in our wake.

  Ana’s shadow magic envelopes us as we cross the bridge—a sign that she’s still alive, somewhere. Her gift from Luna shrouds the bridge from view. Only an Illustrian can see the glimmering outline. Even so, the ride to the other side makes me dizzy. I have a clear view to the bottom of the ravine.

  “Even the horses are used to the magic!” Sofía yells as she passes.

  “Cállate,” I say, clutching the reins.

  We ride through the once public farmlands. Carts piled high with stalks of the koka leaf are silhouetted against the dusky sky. Chewing just a little bit helps with the altitude and upset stomach, but more than that brings on hallucinations, and too much means you never wake up at all. The tops of the plants have feathery bushes, like the ends of a llama’s tail. Wide, flat leaves stick out from their thick stems. It’s an eerie sight, as if large spiky Boraro monsters dot the empty landscape. They’re everywhere.

  “I can’t believe it,” Sofía’s voice carries back to me. “Using the farmlands to grow a drug? Not food for his people to eat and survive on, but a product to export?”