I inhale and slowly shut my eyes. The jungle harmony surrounds me, clamoring for attention, but I ignore the constant chatter of the toads and owls and focus on feeling the heavens. Dwelling on the pressure building in my chest. Feeling the air trapped in my lungs. Thinking of the endless night, and the way the moon conquers all shadows. My hands tingle, tiny pricks that shoot awareness deep into my belly. I exhale, and once again peer through the scope. The stars have moved again. This time, they stay put. A single word is made clear, as if Luna herself whispers it in my ear.
Danger.
It comes to me breathless and urgent, impossible to ignore. I’m plunged back to earth, back to the heart of the jungle. I lower the scope and turn toward my discarded dagger, lying next to the hammock.
Something moves in the dark. Disturbs the tall leaves.
A noise climbs up my throat, shrill and panicked. The shadow I’m watching materializes, and he’s massive. Almost the size of a horse. He looks ancient—from another time. A hint of red glows from the depths of his eyes. The jaguar crouches next to my tree, lambent gaze steady on mine. A feral growl rents the air. Luna save me. It’s going to be a slaughter.
I have no defense against this beast.
We are both impossibly still. Run, someone whispers in the night, the voice soft but powerful. Go. As if by their own accord, my feet slowly angle away from the jungle cat. In response, he crouches lower, readying to strike.
I bolt, taking only my telescope.
The jaguar roars from somewhere behind me. My legs pump harder, and I run as fast as I can. The trees spread out enough for me to see where I’m going—there’s a cliff ahead. For the first time, Luna shines down on me. Moonlight reveals a path parallel to the edge. I pivot, my hands shooting out to catch my fall. My fingers find purchase and I propel myself forward, feet pushing against the ground to give me a head start.
The jaguar leaps.
I drop to the ground as the big cat sails above me. I get to my feet and dart away, stumbling back through the jungle bush. The moonlight disappears. Darkness blankets my vision. Sharp leaves scratch my cheeks, but I push on, the jaguar snarling at my heels. Above our heads, monkeys screech, startled by the jungle cat. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I’m about to touch a prickly vine. I use my covered shoulder to push the bulk aside.
A log blocks my path. I climb over, but as soon as my feet touch the other side, the beast slashes my shoulder blades. A bloodcurdling scream escapes me. Hot liquid slides down my back. I take a few steps forward, my vision blurring from the pain. The ground under my feet gives way, sending me down, down, down into a pit. I land hard, my temple hitting something jagged and rough.
The world blinks to black.
CAPÍTULO
Cuatro
When I wake, it’s to the frantic sounds of growling and scratching. I open my eyes slowly, disoriented. The gloom prevents me from seeing anything clearly. I’m lying on hard dirt, the scent of rocks and worms assaulting my nose. I’m in a narrow pit, slumped over on my back, my legs above me.
Dimly, I notice a creature at the top of the hole, digging to widen the opening. With a gasp I bring in my legs, pressing my knees against my chest. Clumps of dirt land on my face from the jaguar’s incessant movements.
The hole is barely big enough to fit me, and the jaguar’s size prevents him from jumping in. But not for long. I have minutes, maybe, before he tunnels inside.
There’s nothing left in me to block my fear, the rising panic, the tears streaming down my face. I’m going to die in this pit, mauled by a jungle cat. I’m going to die a failure. Betrayed by my people. A blight to my family name.
The jaguar widens the hole big enough to slip in its massive paw. His claws spread, scrambling for my leg, inches away. My hands are shaking, imagining his teeth ripping at my skin, sipping the gushing blood as it pours out of me. If Ximena could see me now, would she care? Would my death even matter to her now that she has her new friends, and she supports another queen? Tears carve tracks down my cheeks.
I tip my head back and scream as loud and as long as I can.
The jaguar startles but resumes his digging. My gaze snags on the rock I hit on the way down. Using both hands, I launch it upward toward the jungle cat. The rock smacks his face, sending him back from the opening. Then the rock plummets and hits my leg and I wince. The beast returns in seconds and continues digging, furious now that I’m defending myself.
I throw everything within reach. Rocks, twigs, handfuls of dirt. Much of it rains back down onto me, but I don’t care. I keep throwing whatever I find, but my assault barely slows down the big cat. My arm tires and I stop, breathing heavily. There’s nothing left to throw.
All I can do is curl up and wait to die.
Without warning the jaguar slumps forward. Blood splatters my legs. Someone shoves the creature away from the opening and a face appears in its place. Narrowing my gaze, I try to discern if it’s one of my guards—or Rumi.
The face belongs to a man half hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. Patches of scattered moonlight illuminate the bottom half of the stranger’s countenance: scruffy beard and a strong jaw. Someone young—the skin on his arms is smooth.
“Rumi?” My voice is shaky. Did the healer have a beard? I can’t remember. I clutch at the dirt walls, trying to stand. “Is it you?”
“I’m going to get you out,” he says, but then moves away.
“No!” My limbs are tangled in the small space. “Por favor. No me dejes.”
“Listen to me,” he says calmly as his face reappears. “I’m not going to leave you down there.”
His voice is low and rough, as if he’s not used to talking. It also doesn’t sound the least bit like Rumi’s. The stranger disappears again, and I stifle a sob. What if another jaguar attacks him—what if he can’t come back?
“Espera! Come back!”
A heavy vine drops, landing in a coil on my stomach.
“I told you I wasn’t going to leave you. Hold on to the vine,” he calls. Amusement threads his tone like the night sky stitched with stars. It soothes me because it radiates confidence. He’s really going to pull me out of this hole.
“Sí,” I say, and yank on the vine to let him know I’m ready. It snaps, taut, against the dirt wall. I concentrate on his heavy breathing as the man slowly drags me out of this infernal pit.
When I’m close to the top, he hooks his hands under my armpits and pulls me out the rest of the way. He underestimates my size, because we topple forward, him onto his back and me crashing against his chest. His wide-brimmed hat flounces off, revealing his face, his softly glowing eyes. Twin fires against rich olive skin. A chill skips down my spine as my mouth goes dry.
I know him.
The man squints up at me and then gasps. “Catalina?”
I blink at him, feeling his chest rise and fall underneath me. My hands are on either side of his head. He has black wavy hair that reaches his shoulders. Dark eyebrows shaped in surprise are set over a pair of brown eyes, fringed by even darker lashes. His nose is broken—that’s new—and a rough beard hides the bottom half of his face, but I’d recognize him anywhere. It’s been years, though.
My heart does an odd flip. Even after all this time.
“Manuel,” I whisper.
My former general’s only son. A ranger and scout for the Illustrian throne. I frown. He’s wearing black clothing, not our traditional white. A leather vest is set over a long-sleeved shirt, and there’s a machete poking out from behind his back, attached by a leather strap that crisscrosses his chest. His leather boots ride up to mid-calf, and the only thing that remotely looks Illustrian is a pendant hanging from his neck.
A silver crescent moon his mother gave him on his seventeenth birthday three years ago.
“What are you doing here?” He clutches my arms and hauls us both to our feet. Then he starts shaking me. “What’s happened? You look like you’ve fought in a battle.”
Which is entirely correc
t. I open my mouth to say so, but a laugh escapes instead. Suddenly I’m giddy with relief. My skin flushes, growing warmer. I’m not alone in this jungle. I’m not going to die. More laughter erupts and Manuel frowns at me.
“Catalina.” He shakes me again, but I can’t stop the giggling. Tears stream down my face. My giggles turn to gut-wrenching sobs. “What’s wrong with—”
He breaks off with a low curse, staring at something over my shoulder. I turn and stiffen.
A tall girl is staring at us. She’s outfitted in various shades of green, from her wide-leg pants to the black-and-white checked tunic covering her powerfully built frame. A circlet of gold sits on her dark hair. She’s carrying a slingshot in one hand. There’s a small pouch attached to her leather belt, I’m guessing filled with polished stones.
“We have to move,” Manuel whispers. “Ahora. Right now.”
But the girl vanishes into the jungle, tucking herself behind the tree and out of sight. It happens so fast, for a moment I think I must have imagined her.
“Who was that?” I try to take a step forward, but Manuel places a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“An Illari tracker,” he says grimly, still staring at the spot where she disappeared.
I gasp. “She’s Illari? You mean they actually exist in here?”
“Yes, and where there’s one, several more will follow. She’s been hunting me for days.” He removes his hand from my shoulder. His voice drops to a whisper. “Follow me. You can tell me what in diablos is going on when we get to safety.”
“Is there such a thing in this place?”
His lips quirk.
Again, my heart does that odd flip.
Manuel uses his machete to hack through the jungle. He doesn’t hesitate where to strike, or where to step and what to touch, seeing clearly in the dark. He has Moonsight, a gift from Luna, the ability to never get lost at night. As a little girl, I watched him from the Illustrian tower. Out at night, doing various tasks. He comes alive when the sun goes down. We have that in common.
Manuel half turns, one eyebrow raised, his eyes illuminated in their soft, warm glow.
“I’m all right,” I say. I don’t mention my wounds. There’s nothing he can do about them right now anyway, what with the Illari tracking us.
He nods and faces forward again, hacking at jungle foliage. I let myself smile. He was always protective, even when we were children. I have so many questions—and I know he must feel the same, but neither of us talks again. I personally can’t, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. It’s the dead of night, and I’m having a hard time remaining upright, let alone searching for menacing vines. My skin feels feverish and clammy, and black dots dance across my vision.
We’re descending around the cliff I almost ran into earlier. My back feels raw, stinging sharply with each of my steps. Damn that jungle cat. Every now and again, Manuel helps me navigate the shifting, jagged rocks. Callouses cover his palms. Overhead, the night sky turns cloudy and gray, dripping rain and mist onto my head. Manuel tips his head back and catches raindrops in his mouth. The line of his neck looks strong, connecting to a softly rounded jawline all but hidden by his dark stubble.
I turn away to hide my blush.
I can still remember the day he left, a few days after his birthday. My general—Ana—had given him the little money she had, a machete that belonged to his father, and a small bag of provisions. Whatever we could spare. We’d celebrated that whole day, not that we had much in the way of food. But we’d played music and danced around a roaring fire. And then he’d pulled me behind a tree, away from prying eyes, and kissed me. It was the best night of my life.
Three days later he was gone.
And the only thing I had left was a forbidden kiss between a condesa and her guard, behind a tree while everyone else danced through the night. How many times did I think about that evening? Replayed a conversation I’d overheard between Ana and Manuel, just a day before he left? Perhaps thousands. Even now, the words come unbidden.
We’re all counting on you, she had said. Never forget who you are, and why you’re fighting.
She sounded stern, though her expression was anything but. Manuel reached for her, hugging her tightly. She’d bitten her lip so hard I thought she might draw blood. I didn’t realize she’d been saying goodbye to her son.
The memory is a cruel one, because I know what happens next. Manuel left early the next morning and Ana never saw her son again. She was captured and killed by the Llacsan king Atoc in a public execution in the middle of the main plaza. Ximena didn’t do a thing to stop it.
Suddenly I’m terrified by the questions Manuel’s bound to ask. I don’t want to tell him about his family and how every one of them died; I don’t want to hurt him that way. I don’t want him to know how everyone deserted me. I’ve failed him and it’s my fault.
I trusted the wrong people.
Manuel lifts a branch after carefully examining it. I wonder if he’s ever felt the same horrible sting from the plant I’d touched. I want to ask, but the jungle is a thief and it steals all of my breaths. I’ve never been so thirsty in my entire life, and no matter how much rainwater I catch in my mouth, it never seems to be enough. Manuel hands me a big palm leaf filled with water and I drink from it greedily.
We continue the climb down, heading for a narrow riverbed that winds outward into the jungle. At last Luna becomes visible amid swollen dark clouds hanging low in the sky. A constant hum of croaking frogs reverberates around us, accompanied by buzzing locusts. Graceful branches arch over the river while fireflies dance overhead, looking like fairies in the mist. We reach the bottom and Manuel leads us along the bank, eyes scanning the area.
The mist creates a moonbow that hovers above the surface of the flowing stream. I wipe raindrops from my eyes and smile. Parts of the jungle are truly breathtaking.
Manuel stops abruptly.
“We cross here,” he says. “Watch where you step. Stingrays like to hide in the shallows, and a single prick will kill you if you’re unlucky enough to disturb one.”
My smile fades. Damn this jungle.
He takes my hand. We cross slowly and carefully, and the water is cool and clear, reaching almost to my knees. It feels delicious against my heated skin. I step on something smooth and slippery and let out a shriek. “I think I touched a stingray!”
Manuel doesn’t turn around. “Nope. Just a rock.”
“How do you know?”
“You wouldn’t be alive if you’d stepped on one.”
Oh.
He gently tugs me across. We reach the other side and he helps me find firmer ground as we move up and away from the river. My boots are sodden, and my poor feet are in a worse state. Pinched and cramped, the balls of them are sore and bruised. But the pain coming from my back is overwhelming, stinging and raw.
Manuel points upward. “Our destination.”
I follow the length of his finger. Nestled above the tree line is a small cave situated near the top of a vertical wall made of sheer granite. An expanse that stretches higher than the tallest tower of the Illustrian fortress. We’re mere specks against its great height. Ants considering an elephant. One miscalculation with the rope, and we’ll plummet to our deaths.
“Hilarious,” I say. “Where are we really going?”
Manuel continues to point to the cave, his expression infinitely patient, as if I were a child and not a rational being pointing out the dangers of climbing impossible heights. “Who are you right now?”
He quirks a dark brow and then drops his hand.
“Even with a rope, it’s too risky.”
“Don’t be silly, Catalina,” Manuel says calmly. “We’ll be climbing without one.”
My jaw drops, but he merely marches toward the wall. With quivering steps, I follow in his wake, my gaze latching onto the immense slab of rock, illuminated in cold moonlight. The stone is smooth and polished, but even so, I can’t help feeling as if the face of it salutes me wi
th a sinister smile.
CAPÍTULO
Cinco
I scramble after Manuel, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. My feet ache and sting—I must have blisters. He hacks off branches and makes a clear path for me to follow after his brisk pace. He doesn’t look back, as if he knows the current expression I’m wearing on my face.
Utter dismay. Shock. Terror.
When I finally catch up to him, I get a better glimpse of the rock wall. It’s an odyssey of cracks and grooves, some gaping, but most barely a fist wide. I look higher and there’s a smattering of ledges that appear to be the width of shoes meant for children. My eyes strain in the dim light to catch sight of every possible way up, but there aren’t that many footholds.
“Can we talk about this?” I ask. “I mean, logically, I physically cannot climb this wall. Even without my injured back, this is impossible. I’d rather face another jaguar.”
Manuel frowns, turning me around. His quiet gasp makes my stomach lurch. He uses gentle fingers to part my tunic where it’s sticking to dried blood. I wince as some of the cloth refuses to budge.
“How bad is it?” I ask. I can tell he’s trying to hide his concern, because he’s not quite successful. That deep line appears between his brows.
“Bad,” he says, his voice grim. “Come on.”
He leads us back the way we came and down to the river, motioning for me to kneel beside it. Manuel looks to the left and then to the right. Satisfied the coast is clear, he squats next to me and proceeds to cup water into his hands, then gently washes the areas around my wound. It doesn’t matter how soft his touch is—tears drip down my cheeks.
I can’t seem to stop crying. My head is pounding.
“Three deep gashes,” he says quietly. “You’ll have scars, but I’m more worried about you contracting a fever. ¿Cómo te sientes?”
“Feverish.”
Written in Starlight Page 3
