Written in Starlight

by Isabel Ibañez

  My lips flatten. I’ve failed. Again. “I’m very motivated to learn.”

  He senses my profound disappointment. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like. Stay until the day you die; it’s fine with me. You may learn from Chaska, and perhaps one day you’ll find yourself working as another seer we trust. Perhaps even among our own family.”

  Stay here forever? I look around at the solemn faces studying me. I never considered this might be an option. My hope was always to go back home, rescue my people, and fulfill my promise to them. I’m not the only one wanting vengeance. Manuel catches my eye—and his expression robs me of breath.

  It’s one of utter resignation, as if he thinks the marriage is a foregone conclusion. His belief that I’ll become a capable seer is so palpable, I could cradle it my palms.

  “You’re making a mistake,” I say. “Please reconsider.”

  “My offer of hospitality will have to be enough.”

  “For now. But I won’t stop asking.”

  Kusi frowns. “You need to respect my brother.”

  “I mean no disrespect. I only ask that you consider this warning—from someone who has lived through war.”

  “Your warning will be considered.” Sonco inclines his head. “But enough of this heaviness. We’ve never entertained nobility. We’ll hold a feast in your honor.” He raises a brow at his cousin, and she nods before he continues. “There’s a full moon in three days. We’ll have it then.”

  “Gracias,” I say, surprised.

  “Chaska will be your guide. Should you need or want anything, please let her know.”

  He gestures to one of his attendants dressed in a handsome tunic with a fringed hem, and they immediately stand and leave the room. Low chatter begins, and Sonco engages the woman on his right in conversation. I can’t manage to look anywhere other than down at my hands, clasped so tightly, they’re nearly white.

  “I know this is hard for you,” Manuel murmurs.

  I nod. It’s just like him to not mention how hard it must have been hearing my marriage proposal to Sonco. Manuel will put me first, in all things. That thought should comfort me, but it only makes me sad. I’m finally understanding how marriage to the Illari leader will help me carry out my plan to save Illustrians. So far, it’s the best option.

  “What do you need from me?” he asks.

  Tell me I’m not a failure. That I’ll find some other way to convince the Illari leader.

  But I say none of those things. I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll only cry in front of all these people. So I shrug. Manuel doesn’t say another word, only allows his knee to brush against my leg. I stare at that point of contact. Here sits one of my own, witnessing my failure, desperation, and inexperience. What kind of queen will I make if I can’t secure allies? If I can’t provide for my people or help them in a meaningful way? This was my chance to prove that my voice is strong enough to be heard.

  But I wasn’t loud enough.

  The door opens and people carrying trays of food deliver everything into the middle of the circle. My mouth waters. Clay bowls are filled with pan-fried yuca, boiled potatoes, blended greens, roasted pig with crispy skin, and plátanos maduros drizzled with honey.

  All of it looks delicious. None of it seems appetizing.

  I can’t think of eating with them, not when I must wear my disappointment on my face. When someone tries to hand me a glass of jugo made of sweetened lime, I refuse to take it. Manuel grasps the drink and gives it to me, saying my thanks for me.

  “You need to have something,” he murmurs. “I know you’re upset, but you haven’t eaten anything substantial in weeks.”

  I manage a nod. We’re given a plate with generous portions and enough juice to wash everything down. Once we’re done eating, Sonco stands, and everyone else follows suit. He inclines his head toward me again, then leaves with his attendants at his heels. Only Manuel and Chaska remain.

  “Regarding tomorrow, you have two options,” she says to him. “You can train with our warriors, or join us for a tour of Paititi.”

  Manuel doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll train.”

  Though I’m surprised, I don’t let my face show it. What happened to wanting to remain close? Does this mean he no longer considers the Illari a danger to me? He leaves without a glance in my direction, as if compensating for his attempts to comfort me.

  Chaska places her hands on her hips. “Now that we’re alone, I can see if I can fix it.”

  “Fix what?”

  “Your magic. There’s something wrong with it.”

  CAPÍTULO

  Veintitres

  All I can think about is my recent failure, but I have no time to think about how to convince Sonco, because Chaska leads me to another building, also white and round, and brings me inside. She shuts the wooden door behind her, and for a second I wonder if I ought to be nervous. My eyes adjust to the dim room.

  A clear line of demarcation divides the chamber in half. On one side, the walls are painted the deepest hue of blue. Hammered gold plates cut into stars of varying sizes decorate nearly every square inch, save for the space designated for Luna, whose face wears a cryptic smile. On the other side, the room is painted a softer blue. In the center hangs a golden sun with rays that stretch from the ceiling to the floor. It’s also made of gold.

  From one end of the floor to the other are beautifully rendered flowers, ranging in shades of orange to lavender, with vibrant green stems and leaves. This entire place is a work of art. I slowly turn to face Chaska, really seeing her for the first time. Her full lips are stretched into a soft knowing smirk, black hair loose and swirling around her toned shoulders. Her tunic is the color of a red apple, with golden geometric shapes stitched across her chest.

  “Did you paint this?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  “Gracias … Catalina.”

  I smile as I step toward Luna’s side, marveling at the beautiful constellations. The shapes make words in my mind, jumbled and confusing. I shake my head to clear my confusion, and I bite my lip. Even in a mural, Luna hides her voice from me.

  “Can you read what it says?” Chaska asks.

  I flush to the roots of my hair.

  Her next words come out as a hush, the level of rustling leaves against stone. “You can’t, can you?”

  I stiffen. “Is this another trial? Another test?”

  She stands next to me, her gaze on Luna. “Don’t you want to know her? She wants to know you. She’s been waiting for you.”

  “What do you mean? I’ve been reaching for her my whole life.”

  “Because you don’t listen. You talk and talk, asking your questions, demanding answers. That’s not how to use Luna’s gifts. Her magic has no beginning or middle or end. You only want one part of the tale, when you need to listen for the whole story.”

  I whirl around, my hands on my hips. I’m unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “You don’t know anything about me! Who are you to say there’s something wrong with my magic?”

  “But there is,” she says, confused. “It’s as clear to me as it is to you. Why not try to figure out what’s wrong? If you can prove to Sonco that your ability is proficient, then he might consider marriage.”

  Confusion flares within me. She’s the one who first told Manuel about Sonco wanting a wife, and I don’t understand why she’d want her cousin to marry an outsider. “Why do you want me to marry your cousin?”

  She tilts her head to the side, considering. “I have never left this jungle because I am the only seer in Paititi. Long trips are impossible, and yet I long for them.”

  I look away. I can understand her yearning. Growing up the way I did, behind fortress walls, the outside world tantalized me, too.

  “It will be better for Sonco to have another seer,” she says, a hint of defensiveness in her tone. “The more information he has, the better he can guard our city against the rest of the
country.”

  Her points make sense to me. Pressure builds in my chest. Everything hinges on my ability to develop my gift from Luna.

  I fold my arms across my chest. Tears threaten to fall, but I don’t want to cry in front of her. Ever since I can remember, the stars have kept their meaning from me. Occasionally a word or two becomes clear, but it feels like Luna’s yelling at me, trying to get my attention, frustrated, somehow, that I keep missing something monumental in our communication. I barely remember the training I had as a little girl. My Great-Aunt Pastora only talked of the special relationship between the goddess and her children. It sounded like heaven to me—it still does. To a little girl who’d lost her own mother, the idea of a celestial parent looking out for me was the balm I needed.

  Here’s what I do remember: Always say a prayer before gazing upward; never come to Luna with a full head; quiet your breathing; be still; patience and dedication will do the rest.

  My early education may have had gaps, but that doesn’t mean what I learned at my great-aunt’s knee was incorrect.

  “Why do you think there’s something wrong? I might be having a rough week.” A rough season, more like.

  “Because she told me,” Chaska says.

  I freeze, unable to breathe. My mind still can’t fathom Luna blessing the Illari. Back in La Ciudad, the Llacsans worship only Inti and Pachamama. They have no love for my goddess, and I have no love for theirs. Both of them. Because the Illari were the original inhabitants of Inkasisa, I assumed the Llacsans had followed in their footsteps.

  My lips are wooden, but somehow the words escape. “That can’t be true.”

  “That’s very rude,” Chaska says sternly. “We have taken you in, clothed and fed you. My cousin has offered you a home when you have none. And you call me a liar?”

  I flush and meet her gaze. “This is very hard for me to accept.”

  She tilts her head again. “What’s hard about it?”

  “Because—because I thought Luna only belonged to us! She’s our goddess, our life. We have been blessed by her, and I didn’t know—didn’t think—she could love …” I trail off.

  “Who? Other humans?” Her voice rises and it feels like a battering ram against my chest. “How arrogant of you. Why on earth would you think that you and your people have all of the goddess’s attention and love?”

  I splay my hands. “It’s what I was taught. I don’t know why only we heard from Luna, but that’s been the way of it for decades. And the Llacsans didn’t love the moon, worshiping only the sun and the earth. That was my normal.”

  “Who trained you?” she demands.

  My voice wobbles. “An Illustrian seer. My Great-Aunt Pastora. She only taught me to communicate with Luna. But then the revolt happened, and she died in the earthquake. They all did. There was no one left, and so I had to somehow figure it out on my own. This blessing from Luna.”

  A blessing that feels like a curse. I can’t say those words out loud, not while standing in front of her likeness. It feels disloyal, somehow.

  Chaska’s demeanor softens. “You carry a great weight, do you not?”

  I nod, this time allowing the tears to fall. “I’ve let everyone down. I still am, I think.”

  “Then shouldn’t you have an open mind? You owe it to your people to fulfill the gift Luna has given you. With respect to your great-aunt, she did you a disservice. Have all Illustrian seers been this irresponsible? A rare ability like yours ought not to be wasted. Especially out of ignorance.”

  I step forward and let my index finger graze the starry wall. For years all I’ve wanted was to be known by Luna—to understand her so I could share her celestial knowledge with my people. When I turn to face Chaska, my shoulders are straight, my chin high.

  “What must I do?”

  She smiles and points to the sun on the opposite side of the room. “Learn to love her familia.”

  I gape at her. “Family?”

  “Inti is her brother.” Chaska taps her sandaled foot on the ground. “And the great Pachamama is her mother.”

  The words seem to ripple in the air, hitting my body as if they were weapons of war. I want to duck and defend myself against such lies. But the serious expression on her face, so earnest and genuine, makes me pause. Can she be telling me the truth?

  “I’ve never heard this version before.”

  “It’s not a version,” she says. “It’s the truth. Can you accept what’s in front of you?”

  I tug on the sleeves of my tunic. “It feels like a betrayal of everything I’ve been taught. Of who I am—an Illustrian who loves the moon.”

  “You are still an Illustrian who loves the moon,” she says. “But you can also love the sun, who shines down on you and brings all things to life. You can still love the earth, who nurtures your body and gives you a home. The three of them wait for you, Catalina. If you never learn, you’ll never feel comfortable in your own skin. Misery and doubt will follow your every step. You need only open the door. Let go of your old teachings, and brave what you fear.”

  What does she mean, brave my fears? I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve traveled all this way. “I have to think.”

  “When you do,” she murmurs, “try to remember your people, and what would be good for them.”

  This room feels too small. I want more space to breathe, to mull over this strange information that somehow feels right and wrong. The idea of dismantling some of my core beliefs frightens me. I’ve stood on them for so long. Because there are some things I’ve always known to be true: Luna is the goddess of the Illustrians, I am the daughter of the murdered royal family of Inkasisa, and the Llacsans are my enemy. These are the pillars that make up my foundation and if I take one away, what will I have left?

  What else do I have wrong?

  “Say I do believe you … what must I do to learn about Inti and Pachamama?”

  Chaska crosses the room and opens the door. “They are outside right now. Will you come?”

  I step outside, feel the warmth of the sun, the solid ground beneath my feet. All my life, I’ve been looking for someone, wanting to understand who I am, this gift that’s tormented and delighted me since I first glimpsed the stars shift. Maybe my resistance to Chaska’s words have more to do with fear—there’s safety in the familiar, even in my long years of disappointment.

  But here’s my chance. I only need to face my ignorance.

  She takes me high up to a hill overlooking Paititi. The view is different now from what it was at night, but equally awe inspiring. Red and gold tiles glint in the sunlight, the buildings nestled close to one another in bursts, and surrounded by lush trees and the curving stone pathway. The river cuts through the city, a pale slash of blue water. It doesn’t look like it houses any monsters.

  To think this city was hidden for centuries, deep in the most dangerous place in Inkasisa. If everyone knew this place was real, they’d brave the jungle to see it for themselves. No, not just see it. Many would try to steal their secrets. Hunt their gold. Take their homes. It’s the way of the world, to conquer or be conquered. The Llacsans ran the Illari from their lands, and my people swept in with our army and drove the Llacsans up to the mountains. Four hundred years later, thousands of Illustrians were killed, and those who survived lived in a fortress for ten years.

  No one is blameless. The history of Inkasisa makes me sad when I think of all those displaced people, the lives lost while my ancestors forced them to mine Qullqi Orqo for silver. The years when we’d forced them to acclimate to our way of life. And for the ones who refused, they were pushed out of the city. We took and took and took from them.

  Why have I never thought about them before? All I’ve ever seen was my own hurt, my own losses. The world is so much bigger than my pain.

  We sit down on the ground, under the shade of a great rubber tree, the soft grass tickling my ankles and in between my toes. The sun’s rays warm patches of my body, and the heat makes my shoulders tingle.

&
nbsp; “Empty your mind,” Chaska says in a lilting voice. “And close your eyes.”

  I do as she says, feeling ridiculous. Whenever I talk to Luna, my gaze is open and trained on the heavens. But this is her lesson, and I promised I’d clear my mind of ancient history.

  “What do you feel?”

  “My sweat dripping down my neck.”

  She flicks my shoulder. “Try again.”

  I picture the moment before I look into my dented telescope—how my breath goes soft, my mind clearing of worries. The same process is harder with Inti potentially listening. Time seems to slow as I let my breathing do its steady work, easing the tension from my shoulders, loosening my spine until it’s as if I’m nearly boneless.

  “That’s good,” she murmurs. “Picture the many things you are thankful for, what would not be possible without the sun or earth.”

  There wouldn’t be much without the pair of them. Morning light as the sun dawns. Flowers to admire, cool water to drink. The scent of honey and the taste of sweet mango, when it’s gone from green to red. Slowly, I feel a soft tickle near my edges, a shy and warm greeting. If I hadn’t been sitting perfectly still, waiting for the moment, I would have missed it.

  My eyes snap open, and I turn my head in Chaska’s direction. “I felt something.”

  But her attention is on the patch of ground in front of me. “The earth goddess listened.”

  Where there were once only weeds and shards of grass now blooms a single yellow flower by my tucked legs.

  I blink several times, but the flower remains. “Did I do that?”

  Chaska lets out an exasperated huff of breath. “No. You turned to her, and she answered.”

  “But why?” I ask. “I’ve ignored her my whole life.”

  She plucks a blade of grass and lifts it up to her nose. “I sense a profound shift in the relationship between mother and daughter, brother and sister. It feels softer, as if there’s been a … reconciliation in their divine familia. We might be part of that story, in some small way.”