“I can’t see how.”
“Of course not,” she says. “We’re human. How can we fully know the ways of the gods? For now we must be open and listen, and be thankful for their gifts.”
It’s a start, a step in the right direction, though I sense the journey will be a long one. But I had felt Inti, I was sure of it—warmth curling around me like steam over a cup of hot tea. And then Pachamama’s friendly flower. They want a relationship with me.
“What do I do now?”
She seems amused by this. “Continue the conversation. Every day may not be like this, but you know they are present, listening. Tonight, when you read the words from Luna, perhaps they will make sense. But if they do not, try again and again.”
“I will.” Happiness bubbles to the surface. Without thinking, I throw my arms around her shoulders. “Gracias, gracias, gracias. This never would have happened if not for you.”
Chaska doesn’t push me away, roll her eyes, or tease me as I would suspect. Instead she hugs me back. “That is very true.”
I pull away, yearning to try again, to learn about these other gods who I’ve ignored for all of my life. I’m on the cusp of something immense, of finally understanding how I might be able to use Luna’s gift as it was intended.
More than anything, I want to be useful. If I’m a capable seer, then I have something to offer Sonco. Once married, I can take the first steps toward becoming the kind of condesa my people can respect. Leading an army against the Llacsan queen is the perfect demonstration of how far I’ve come.
“You have much to learn still,” Chaska says. “But if you give yourself the chance, I think you will make a fine seer.”
My happiness dims. “What do you mean? Of course I’ll give myself the chance.”
“Will you be both a seer and a ruler?”
“I can do both,” I insist.
“Of course you can,” she says with a shake of her head. “But it doesn’t mean you should.”
I lean away from her. “Where is this coming from?”
She assesses me and says, “Luna.”
“She spoke to you of this?”
“Some of your story has been revealed to me, yes.”
“What parts?”
“Ask her yourself,” she says, and her voice is kind, even as her attention draws toward the view of the city.
“I will.”
We settle into silence, and while not uncomfortable, I wouldn’t say it’s companionable. At least not on my end. I once again admire the city set into the mountain’s soft rolling hills. “You all have flourished,” I say. “It’s remarkable and inspiring.”
“And we have known no wars,” she says sadly. “But that might change in the near future.”
It would change if they helped me. I’d be introducing them to something dangerous and terrifying. Death and destruction. Children left as orphans. Families ravaged. But what choice do I have? My people need their chance to get their homes back. I say in a small voice, “I don’t regret asking for your cousin’s help.”
She turns to me, her black brows gathering together. “We face war here in the jungle, Catalina. It’s coming for us whether we want it to or not. I have been trying to discover the source of the evil.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something or someone is killing our jungle,” she says fiercely. “It’s awful dark magic, and it must be stopped before it’s too late.”
“Do you know how? What does Luna say?”
And for the first time, she sounds bitter. “Not one word.”
CAPÍTULO
Veinticuatro
The rest of the day is spent exploring. Chaska leads me to the market, where children learn how to weave tapestries and dye cloth from plants, their sweet little faces smiling and eager to please. We pass vendors carting husks of corn and bundles of coca leaves, and women cooking meals over outdoor fire pits. The city bustles with life, particularly the market, where beads are sold as necklaces and anklets.
By evening I’ve been fed by so many people—Illari who’ve opened their doors and invited me into their homes—that any more food and someone will have to roll me home. Chaska laughs when I tell her this, and bids me good night.
I don’t want to go to bed, not even the slightest bit, so instead I rush back to my sleeping quarters and grab my telescope before climbing up the hill, yearning to talk to Luna.
That moment is now.
I settle onto the soft earth, away from the rubber tree so that I might see the stars more clearly. Down below, dozens of fires flicker in the night, people laughing and enjoying one another in the moonlight. I shut my eyes and wait for my heartbeat to slow. Gradually the noise fades away, until all I can focus on is my breath grazing against the back of my throat.
Slow inhale. Soft exhale.
My mind settles and reaches for the heavens. There is an answering calm that clings to my skin, seeps into my bones. I hold on to the feeling as if it were a lifeline. When I open my eyes again, I bring the scope higher and peer through it.
The stars shift, creeping across the inky night, finding one another in the near dark. Luna shines bright, guiding her children into formation. My heart kicks against my ribs as the constellations form—and stay.
Bienvenida, hija.
I drop the scope and laugh. I laugh until tears pour down my cheeks. Happy, relieved laughter that I feel all the way to my toes. When I’m calm, I once again bring my dented telescope to eye level.
The stars have moved again. Another warm greeting. It’s as if I’ve stumbled across a cottage in a forest, my mother waiting at the threshold with a plate of toasted marraqueta and a cup of tea. She pulls me inside her home, asking about my journey, how I’ve been, and if I’m happy. The connection is strong, feelings of love and respect from both sides. She is a long-lost friend, one I’ve missed and yearned for, despite not really knowing her.
I tell her I’m sorry for my absence, but she brushes that aside. I know, she says. I’ve always been here, ready and waiting. Just when I think I might burst from happiness, a warning whispers against my cheek. My elation dims as Luna guides my eyes to a corner of the sky, shadowed and so far from where I sit. The stars rearrange, lines shift to show the face of a young boy, desperately unhappy and alone. His hair is long, his lips thin, his nose pronounced.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “Have I seen this boy before?” He doesn’t look familiar.
The stars rearrange themselves. Yes, Luna says. Be careful when your paths cross again.
Fear spikes my blood. I rack my brain, trying to remember this dangerous boy. When the constellations change again, Luna’s tone is softer, a mother soothing the fears of her little one. I’m so engrossed in our conversation that I don’t hear someone approaching until they’re sitting beside me. I lower the telescope.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Manuel says gruffly. “It’s near midnight.”
“Were you worried?” I ask, unable to keep the smile off my face. I’ve had my first real conversation with Luna. I could roll down this hill and laugh the whole way.
“You know I was.” He stretches his long legs in front of him. “Tell me about your day.”
So I do. By the time I tell him about Luna, I’m sure my eyes are shining with more tears. There’s so much I want to ask her.
Manuel grins. “I knew you’d be able to figure it out.” It’s not until I see his smile that I realize just how tired he is. There are dark circles under his eyes. Deep lines carved into the corners of his mouth.
I bump his shoulder with mine. “You look terrible.”
“And smell it too.”
I lean over and sniff. “A little bit. But mostly you smell like sunshine.”
He shoots me an amused look. “No one can smell like sunshine.”
“Obviously, yes, because you do.”
Manuel shakes his head, exasperated. He’s never looked more adorable. Dark hair tousled, the blue of his tunic a hands
ome contrast to his olive skin. Brown eyes gazing at me warmly.
Maybe it’s my success with Luna, and for once not feeling like a failure. Maybe it’s because we’re alone, with a spectacular view of the moon and stars and this incredible city. But I’m tired of not being able to talk about our feelings.
I scoot around until I face him, my legs crisscrossed. He stiffens, immediately wary. I don’t care. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”
He blinks.
“You’ll say it’s inappropriate, a passing emotion that will fade when I meet someone suitable. Manuel, I have met someone suitable. But if I don’t tell you the truth now, then I’m afraid I never will.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. I reach for his hand and tangle my fingers with his.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper, half yearning to know, half terrified of his thoughts.
He hesitates, looking like a jaguar cornered. Any moment I expect him to lunge, teeth first. “He is going to accept your proposal. Why wouldn’t he? You will become every bit the seer Luna has fated you to be. You’re brave and determined, and loyal. It’s only a matter of time before Sonco realizes who he has in his hands.”
“He might never agree.”
Manuel’s fingers tighten against mine. “Of course he will.”
I can’t speak for a moment. Grief thickens my throat. “So this is it, then. We’ll never have anything more besides our time in the jungle. We’ll never become more than a condesa and her loyal guard.”
He meets my gaze unflinchingly. “That’s right.”
I drop his hand. This is for the best, I know it is. This is how a condesa would comport herself; this is the kind of leadership my people will expect from me. Over and over again, I will have to set what I want to the side.
But I will have one more thing.
“I want you to do something for me.”
He stares at me guardedly. “What?”
I lift my chin. “Kiss me.”
He stills.
“Kiss me and be honest,” I whisper. “Do this, and promise not to hold back.”
“You might regret it.”
“Never.” I shake my head. “Nunca.”
“Then I might.”
“It’s your choice. Now or never, Manuel.”
He glares at me, exasperated. I grin and he slaps both of his palms against his face, groaning. “That smile.”
“What about my smile?”
“I can’t handle it.”
“Now I can’t smile?” I ask, bemused.
He makes a disgusted sound, but it’s not aimed toward me. I don’t think.
We are both quiet and still, mere inches away from each other. I’ve kissed many boys, but looking at him now, at his proud chin and strong shoulders, at the scruff on his face and thunderous brow, butterflies dance deep in my belly. My body doesn’t want to move.
He raises a dark brow. “Have it your way, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I smile, oddly comforted by his grumpiness. His scowl falters as I lean forward and brush my lips to his cheekbone. His warm scent envelops me. Sunshine. Palm leaves. My mouth slides across his broken nose, a soft feathery touch until I reach his other cheek and press another soft kiss.
He inhales sharply. “For the record, I think this is a bad idea.”
“The record understands your hesitations. And thinks they’re dumb.”
He snorts. I smile against his skin, my mouth gliding against his cheek, and he groans. I travel up to both eyelids. More soft kisses there. He grips my upper arms and positions us so our lips meet. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s a war between two stubborn souls. I get lost in the fight, thread my fingers in his hair, taste his frustration. He nips my mouth, pulls me closer, until I’m sitting in his lap. I’m winning the battle. His hands slide up to the back of my neck and he ends the kiss. Calls a truce. His eyes are open, and instead of anger, he regards me ruefully. “I surrender, Catalina.”
“Does that mean you’ll kiss me again?” I tease.
“Before this night is over, I will. I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.” Manuel gently lifts me off his lap, sets me close to his side. We tilt our heads back, stare up at Luna, and her moonlight dances around us.
We sit, shoulder to shoulder for a long moment. There are only the soft croaks from the jungle frogs and the buzzing of mosquitos, the snap of a hot breeze that teases my unruly hair.
“I’m leaving for a short while,” he says. “Perhaps a day or two.”
I look at him sharply. “¿Cuándo?”
“In the morning with the dawn. I didn’t want to leave without telling you.” He pushes his hair off his face. “I’m going with Kusi to investigate the part of the jungle that has become affected.”
“No.”
“You’ll be safe here. In fact, this is the safest place you can be, Catalina.”
“But what about you? This mission is dangerous.”
He shrugs. “Perhaps it is. Sonco doesn’t like the idea of waging war because he doesn’t know who the enemy is.”
“You will come back, won’t you?”
“I swear it.”
“In time for the festival in two days? I’ve never seen you dance.”
“Because I can’t.”
We spent very few days dancing in the Illustrian keep. Sometimes we danced on Ana’s birthday because we pestered her to celebrate. “I’m sure I’m not a good dancer either.”
“We’ll return when we’re done with the mission.”
A terrible sense of foreboding washes over me, dampening the stars’ brightness, dulling the scent of the flowers surrounding us. My eyes grow weary, and I yawn. Exhaustion sets in. And if I’m tired, Manuel must be doubly so. He hasn’t stopped moving since the day he rescued me from that jaguar. “It’s not your job to find answers.”
“I have my reasons. Besides, it’s the least I can do.”
I poke his arm. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”
“Oh, I have to share all of my secrets with you?”
“It’d be nice.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“The old way isn’t working for me.”
He snorts. “But it was working for me.”
“Come on,” I say coaxingly. “What were you thinking, just now when your eyes got sad?”
“I smell like sunshine, but my eyes look sad?”
“You contain multitudes.”
He laughs, and it dawns on me how rarely I’ve heard that sound coming from him. It’s rich and full, and it fills up the night. I’ll never have another night like this with him again. Just the two of us, sitting this close, having just kissed.
Manuel’s chuckle dies as he catches sight of the expression on my face. He reads me easily, and his glowing eyes seem to dim. Or maybe I think they do because I want him to hold on to this moment and remember it forever, like I will.
“Come here,” he says softly.
I lean forward, and his lips meet mine again. This kiss is nothing like the one from before: It’s soft and sad, and I can almost taste the word waiting on his tongue. The one he won’t say but means with all his heart.
Goodbye.
CAPÍTULO
Veinticinco
The sound of the door creaking open jerks me awake. I blink into the dim room, turning around in the bamboo bed to face the door. Manuel pokes his head in.
I sit, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “Are you leaving?”
He nods. I climb out of the bed and shuffle over to him, throwing my arms around his waist. “Be safe,” I mumble.
He grunts, and I lean away far enough that I’m able to peer up into his face. “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say. Was that so terrible?”
His lips twitch.
My arms fall to my sides. “I’ll see you when you return.”
But things between us will be different then, and both of us know it.
Manuel seems to rea
lize this too, because he doesn’t move, one foot inside the building and another on the stone path that will lead him out of Paititi. Slowly, he tucks a wayward strand of dark hair behind my ear. I shiver at his touch, and his eyes heat. Then he backs away, as if I’ve burned him. I let him go without a word of protest. We’ve said everything that needed to be said.
It’s over.
I stand in the doorway, watching him go. He doesn’t look back. I swallow hard, fight to keep my breath steady, and spend a few minutes admiring the way the morning light—fiery and golden—streaks through the sky. The sight calms me. The beauty of the jungle settles my frustration, soothes my warring heart.
Choosing Sonco is the best decision. As a condesa, I’ve done right by my people.
If only my heart felt the same way.
I shut the door and sag against it. I say a quick prayer to Luna that Manuel will return in one piece. And then another thought occurs to me. Feeling incredibly awkward, I mumble a prayer to Inti and Pachamama, too. The words are foreign on my tongue, but I push through. Then I go to my little cot and promptly fall back to sleep.
I don’t feel the least bit bad about it.
There’s a loud knocking on the door—again. I raise an arm as if to brush the noise aside. When it continues, I mumble a curse, stumble toward the door, and yank it open. Sonco stands outside, dressed resplendently in a purple tunic with blue and gold thread stitched at the collar and shirtsleeves. His polite smile stretches wide as he takes in the sight of my hair—which I’m sure looks fetching, given that I haven’t brushed it in weeks.
“Buenos días. Did you sleep well?”
I nod. “I’m so sorry, but am I late to something?”
He shakes his head. “No. I just figured you’d be up. We all rise with the sun.”
Right. Because they adore the sun god here. Or maybe they don’t like wasting away the morning like I apparently do. As he stands there, it strikes me that he’s probably expecting me to invite him inside. I’m sure my floundering looks foolish to the Illari king. “I appreciate your stopping by, King Sonco.”
His dark brows pull into a frown. “Just my name is fine.”
Written in Starlight Page 20
