None can pass. We are trapped.
Tamaya latches onto my arm, her nails digging into my skin.
I barely notice. My attention is on the ghosts. Their pale skeletons are visible beneath their sharp silvery bodies. Carrying picks and axes, they’re dressed in simple clothing, worn and grimy at the knees. As one, their transparent flesh darkens, obscuring their bones, transforming them into something resembling humans. Harsh sunlight makes their skin chalk white.
They study their surroundings with centuries-old eyes.
The anaconda hisses. Fear blooms in my heart and spreads like poisonous ivy. My dagger trembles in my sweat-slicked hand.
Tamaya addresses the ghosts in the old language. Her voice rings above the clamor, almost shrill. But it’s no use—they raise their weapons and with a roar they barrel forward. A ghost separates from the group and races toward the princesa. I step in front of Tamaya and launch my dagger. It cuts through the air, spinning until the blade sinks into the spirit’s gut.
The hit does nothing.
The spirit doesn’t howl or slow down but yanks out my knife and raises it high. I quickly scour the ground for another weapon. The blade of a sword winks up at me, buried under a maimed body.
“Look out!” Tamaya yells from behind me.
I push at the fallen Llacsan, desperate for that weapon. The ghost reaches me. Its cloying scent assaults my nose. Rotten bones buried in mud and dirt for hundreds of years. A decaying carcass given the gift of hate and violence and life. It pulls me upright by my hair. I try to wrench free, but my attacker holds on and drags me away from the sword.
There’s murder in its glowing eyes. I scream as its knife angles toward my heart.
A blur rushes at the ghost. The grip on my hair lessens and I kick and claw away from the spirit. Juan Carlos stands above me, his weapon swinging. I drag myself to the sword, still hidden underneath the dead Llacsan. I shove the body away and grip the hilt.
When I stand, it’s in time to see the spirit slice Juan Carlos’s throat.
My chest burns as I let out a guttural yell. My friend slumps to the ground, his eyes unblinking as his life’s blood gushes from his neck.
Tamaya drops to her knees, attempting to stop the bleeding with her clothes. She’s sobbing, keening. Her hands are stained red from Juan Carlos’s slashed flesh.
Time slows. Sweat drips from my hairline, stinging my eyes. My veins are hot liquid. The clamor of the fight dims. Everyone is shouting, but I can’t hear any of it. I can’t tear my gaze away from his vacant gaze.
Juan Carlos is gone.
The ghost turns to the kneeling princesa and raises the bloody knife.
“Tamaya,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Get up.”
She slowly stands and once again I push her behind me.
The ghost advances.
And then, just over its shoulder, I see her. She comes into my line of sight as if she’s always been there. She wears no cape, her head uncovered, loose hair running down her back. The Estrella isn’t visible. She grips a sword in her right hand. It’s much too heavy for her.
Catalina.
I tip my head back and scream with everything left in me. “Condesa!”
She whips around, sees the ghost’s intent. “Don’t hurt her!”
It immediately quits its advancement.
Tamaya comes to stand next to me, slack-jawed as Llacsans continue to get killed. Catalina’s gaze flickers between mine and Tamaya’s, her eyes wide and confused. I catch the moment when Catalina realizes whose side I’m on. She clutches her chest as if I’ve stabbed her heart.
And in a way, I have.
Traitor. Rat.
I stumble toward the condesa, Tamaya at my heels. Illustrian fighters circle us, forming a protective barrier against the onslaught. I know each of them by name. I’ve trained and slept and lived alongside them at the keep. And now they follow Catalina—the real royal. Their friend. I was nothing to them. Nothing but a stand-in, a fake.
My hands are sticky with blood. I manage to latch onto her arms. “Call them off! Catalina, do it!”
She jerks back. “What?”
“Look around you!” I scream. “This isn’t you—stop them.”
“You sent me the location!” Her voice quavers. “I got your message. This is what you wanted …”
“I killed Atoc.” I squeeze her arms as I search for the gem. She’s not wearing it, but I know it must be somewhere on her. “No one else has to die. Give me the Estrella—we have to destroy it.”
“Destroy it?” She looks at the princesa, disappointment carved into her features. “Is this about her? You still want her on the throne?”
“She’s not your enemy.”
“You both are!” she yells, charging, her sword raised.
I jump away from her jab. We might have been training. Except this is a stronger Catalina than I remember. She’s enraged and hurt, governed by her emotions. They drive her every move. Tamaya keeps behind me.
“Ximena!” Rumi yells from somewhere in the crowd. He tosses me a sword, and I catch the handle in time to block Catalina’s next thrust. She attacks with all the rage of the sun. Each of her moves leaves me shaking. Sweat drops down my back.
I’m out of practice, out of shape. My limbs raw and burning as if on fire. But that doesn’t matter. Catalina fights as if reading out of a book. By the rules, without any variation—but she’s upset, and her moves become erratic. Frantic jabs that slice air and not flesh. She cries out in frustration with every missed opportunity.
I block her attack and slam the heel of my boot onto her toes. She squeals and drops her sword. I raise the blade and keep it level with her heart.
The anaconda coils at my side, ready to pounce.
“Not her,” I say sharply.
Illustrians swarm behind the condesa, arrows notched and ready to fly. I sense, rather than see, the Llacsan rebels line up behind the princesa and me. The whistling from their slingshots spinning in the air tears through the cloudless blue sky.
The ghost army stands ready to strike. There are so few of us left. Cut down by their indestructible force. No one will survive against the spirits.
Catalina can give the order to attack, but it will only take me seconds to kill her.
Madre de Luna. We’re all going to destroy one another. Unless I can make Catalina see reason.
“Catalina, please. Stop this before it’s too late,” I say softly. “Por favor.”
“I won’t ever accept anything less than the throne. Pick up your weapon and finish this,” Catalina snaps. “Nobody move. This is between Ximena and me. Pick up your blade!”
I shake my head. “There’s a better way. For all of us.”
Catalina’s eyes flicker past my shoulder. Her voice is oddly flat. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you’d want a Llacsan on the throne.”
“I want the right person on the throne. Someone who wants a united Inkasisa.”
“Condesa,” Tamaya says. “You will be equal and treated with the respect you deserve. I’m not my brother, and I want what’s best for all—”
“Stop talking,” Catalina says impatiently. She turns to me. “I don’t know who you are anymore. What about our people? My parents? Your parents? You’re disgracing their memory.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But I’m doing this for all of Inkasisa.”
Catalina is crying now. “Don’t talk about Inkasisa—this is about you and me. We’ve been friends for ten years. This is a betrayal.”
That stings. It’s so much more than our friendship. But I’m out of words. I can only beg. “Give Princesa Tamaya a chance. For me.”
“Why don’t you give me a chance?” Catalina asks. She digs into her pocket and pulls out a thick silver bracelet. The ametrine gem sparkles in the sunlight, half amethyst, half citrine. The Llacsan rebels gasp behind me. The Illustrians tense, waiting for the condesa’s signal. I can’t drag my eyes away from the cuff. I lunge at her.
&nb
sp; The Llacsans launch their rocks—
The Illustrians shoot their arrows—
The ghost army utters a high, hair-raising shriek—
Catalina cries out as we crash to the ground. Her hand holding the Estrella knocks against the stone. It rolls out of her reach—
I kick the condesa away and scoop up the bracelet. It’s as cold as a corpse. I push through the crowd, looking for a crack in the earth. Catalina is screaming something from behind me. But I ignore her, ignore the fighting, the ghosts on their murdering rampage. I find what I’m looking for.
A hole in the earth that leads down, down, down to fire and heat, the center of the world.
I stop at the edge, holding my hand over the gulf.
“Ximena,” Catalina says. “Don’t.”
A noise like a rushing river envelopes me. I can’t hear anything except the howling in my head, in my heart. The cuff is heavy, a block of ice. I know the moment I drop it, the moment it touches the heat of the earth, it’ll be gone forever.
I slowly turn to face the condesa. “This is the only way.”
Her guards have their arrows aimed at my heart. The ghosts press closer until I can smell every one of their rotting limbs.
“Don’t shoot,” Catalina says. “She’ll drop it!”
But I’m going to let go anyway. She sees it in my eyes. My fingers loosen their hold on the Estrella. Her lips form a cry that rattles inside my lungs, leaving me trembling. She’ll never forgive me for this.
I let go.
The cuff drops and vanishes. I peer over the edge as I’m surrounded by Llacsan rebels protecting me from the onslaught of Illustrian fighters and enraged ghosts. Rumi is at my back, sword swinging at the spirits wanting my blood, my life.
But I watch for the Estrella until I know it’s truly gone. I don’t have to wait long. A burst of light forms miles below, almost hidden by the craggy dark walls of the earth. The ground shakes, jostling me forward. Rumi grabs the scruff of my wedding dress and jerks me upright, but I can’t take my gaze away from the ball of light.
I exhale. The Estrella is destroyed. Gone forever.
The ghosts vanish in a gust of frigid air. It whips my hair across my face. Then comes a crashing noise like glass shattering against stone. A high metallic shrill leaves my ears ringing. The explosion, the magical rebound of bright silver light races up the jagged walls of the earth. I don’t have time to move away.
The blast reaches me in seconds.
Pain explodes in my chest, my head, my heart, my bones.
I’m lifted off my feet.
Everything blackens as my head cracks against stone.
CAPÍTULO
Someone opened the balcony doors too early again. I wince and turn away from the sunlight, snuggling deeper into the pillow.
“Don’t you dare go back to sleep.”
I crack my eyes open. A handsome boy stares back at me. Dark sweeping brows. Thin lips bent into a smile. Freckles dotting his sharp nose. Eyes the color of coffee beans staring into mine.
“Hola, Ximena,” Rumi whispers.
He smooths my sweaty hair away from my forehead. I try to sit up, and he helps me, his grip firm on my shoulders. Then he places another pillow behind me.
I look around my room in the castillo. It’s exactly the same as I’d left it: loom tucked in the corner, clothes folded neatly on the chair. The anaconda sleeps beside the bed, snuggled next to the llama and the sloth. My frogs are lounging on an old tunic in the corner while the parrot and condor are perched on the balcony railing. My ants are roaming the top of my dresser.
They’re all here except my jaguar. My heart cracks.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
Rumi lies next to me, and I glance down from my propped position.
“You’ve been asleep for thirty-six hours,” he says. “The explosion launched you into the air and you landed on the front steps of the temple. There was so much blood.”
I whistle. “Sounds serious.”
His voice goes soft. “I used all of my magic to heal you. I would do it again without hesitating but …”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t put yourself in that kind of danger again,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. I almost didn’t hear him. “Please … just don’t. We were lucky.”
My heart warms at the we.
It must show on my face because he pushes himself up on his elbow and presses a soft kiss to my lips. My pulse races. I want to ask him about our friends, about the last moments of battle, but I’m terrified of the results. Who else didn’t make it? The words don’t come and I look at him helplessly.
He reads the question in my eyes and answers. “The Illustrians surrendered. But Catalina refused to concede defeat. She’s being held prisoner—”
I bolt upright. “In the dungeon?”
Rumi pulls me back so I’m once again lying on the pillows. “In a bedroom with guards at the door.”
“Tell me everything.”
He starts with the moment Suyana found him right before the wedding. “We couldn’t stand by and do nothing about Atoc’s order to execute the princesa, so we went ahead with our plan. Even without the ghost army.”
“What did Suyana tell you?” My voice catches. “Is she alive?”
He nods. “She said you were one of us. When Atoc tried to kill you, when you refused to give up my name … I couldn’t let you die, and then you saved Tamaya and battled the condesa. I fought and fought knowing that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. It was the hardest thing, giving you that sword and not being able to tell you how sorry I was.”
I remember the brush of his lips. The look in his eyes. “I knew.”
He closes his eyes and nods once. Then he reaches for my hand and kisses the back of my wrist.
“Then what happened?”
“I’ve been attending to as many people as I can. My cousin—”
I cup his cheek. He was my friend too. “I’m so sorry. I saw it happen; there was nothing we could do.”
His eyes clench, his shoulders tense, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He breathes in and out, controlled breaths that soften the tight lines around his eyes. He reopens them to look at me. “So many perished. After the battle, Catalina was allowed a funeral for the Illustrians who died.”
I wound the sheet around my fingers. “How many died?”
“Lo siento,” he whispers. “Catalina told me to tell you, but I can’t—”
My voice goes flat. “How many.”
He ducks his head. “Fifty-two.”
Tears drip down my face. Rumi wipes them away and holds me as I cry. She’ll never understand what I’ve done. And because of that, she’ll never be able to forgive me for it either.
“Te amo, Ximena,” he says against my hair.
“Yo también.”
Rumi lets out a contented hum. His lips are soft against my skin.
I pull away and wipe my eyes. “Then what happened?”
“Umaq is gone,” Rumi says bitterly. “He left on a stolen horse with plenty of notas from Atoc’s treasury. I’m told he’s headed for the jungle.”
The Yanu Jungle? You’d have to be out of your mind to enter. “Why?”
Rumi shrugs. “Who cares? I never want to see him again. I’ll kill him if I do.”
“Whatever lies in the jungle will do that for you.”
“Dios, I hope so.” His voice becomes hushed, careful. “Now all that’s left is Catalina’s hearing. Tamaya insisted you be awake for it. Are you up for it today?”
I sink deeper into the pillow and shake my head. I can’t face her yet. “Mañana.”
“Whatever you want,” he says, his eyes soft.
“Will she be executed?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“I don’t know, amor. I really don’t know.”
He pulls me close, and this time I don’t ask for another distraction. I let myself cry.
I wake up in darkness, Rumi’s arm drap
ed over my side. I shift to face him and trace my finger along his profile. Moonlight streams into the room, and I can just make out the strong planes of his face, the sharp curve of his jaw. I drag my thumb across his brow.
“Hmmm,” he mumbles. “Why are you awake?”
“Nightmare, I think,” I whisper. “We’re sleeping in the same bed.”
He cracks an eye open. “That’s what your nightmare was about?”
“No,” I murmur. “I think it was about Catalina.”
“I should have asked you if it was all right,” he says, yawning. “To sleep here, I mean.”
I smile in the dark. “It’s all right. A little shocking, maybe.”
“I’m your healer.” The sheet rustles as he leans forward to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. “What if you needed me?”
“Of course,” I say in a serious tone. “You’re being a professional.”
“Are you always this chatty in the middle of the night?”
“I’m worried about her,” I say. “Where is she? I know she’s awake. Catalina reads constellations whenever she can’t sleep.”
He sighs and rubs his eyes. “She’s on this floor.”
“Will you take me to her?”
Rumi sighs again. But he sits up and assists me out of bed. He hands me a robe and helps me put on my sandals. He takes my hand and leads me down the hallway, until we stop at the very end, where two guards stand watch.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” he mumbles sleepily. He squeezes my hand and sits on the floor, his back leaning against the stone.
“I need to talk to her.”
One of the guards nods. “Whatever you want.”
I take a deep breath and walk inside. Catalina stands on the balcony, her head tipped all the way back. Her index finger is raised and moving slightly, as if she’s tracing the faint lines between the stars.
“I thought you’d come,” she says.
I join her outside but stand by the door frame. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Would you change what you did?” she asks, her voice hard.
“No,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care that I hurt you. I wish I hadn’t.”
She keeps her back to me. “I’m not going to accept your apology, so you may as well leave, Ximena.”
Woven in Moonlight Page 28