Written in Starlight

by Isabel Ibañez

  My walk takes me around different residences, and close to gardens filled with avocados and bananas, oranges and lemons. Many Illari women sit around their front stoops, holding clay bowls filled with boiled plantains and slices of meat from a peccary. Another group munches on river turtles, their shells cracked and stuffed with peppers and roasted potatoes, while another crowd enjoys crispy paiche, a freshwater fish that has been marinated and cooked over an open fire. I try a little of everything, even after I’m too full to eat anything else, though several people insist.

  I wander idly, stopping every now and again to chat with people passing by, and the sun continues its steady march across the sky. And while the sights are interesting, I can’t stop thinking about what it will take to become a capable seer. Ximena once told me that all things get easier with practice, and now that I’ve learned the missing element when it comes to reading the constellations, all I want to do is read the stars.

  But the sun persists in its relentless glare, so I vow to spend some much-needed time with Luna tonight. I continue exploring, getting lost amid the squat buildings peppering the path. Paititi is a city I could get lost in. Everything is simple and functional, and the food! I’m stuffed from the various offerings throughout the day. I alternate between rosewater tea and a sweet blended banana drink. I’m given plenty of cups of warm nutty coffee and it makes me think about Ximena. She’d love it here. She, too, entered a whole new world—living with the Llacsans, learning their ways, and by the end she chose them over me. I’m starting to think that maybe her choice was warranted.

  By early evening I’ve learned half a dozen names and even tried helping a woman find her teenage son, who apparently disappears every and now again into the mountains. She laughingly waves me off, assuring me that he’ll turn up when he’s good and ready to return to reality. As I leave the market, I can’t help but feel like I could make friends here. In the end, I have twelve invitations for the evening meal.

  But all I want is for Manuel to return—to talk with him about what he saw in the jungle, to untangle the mystery of why people are disappearing and dying. I turn the dinner invitations down and head back to my little home at the end of the path. An image of me living in this building with Manuel takes hold, makes my heart beat faster. It’s strange how someone can weave themselves so thoroughly into the tapestry of your life, and it’s only with their absence that you realize you’re missing a crucial thread. My steps slow down during my walk home. Because I’m suddenly thinking of the other thread missing in my life.

  Ximena.

  It still hurts.

  But not as much as it did when I first left La Ciudad in disgrace. Part of me has softened, and I can’t explain why. It started when I was in the jungle. Like Ximena, I arrived in a whole new world, with a mission. Though hers must’ve been doubly hard because she lived among enemies. The Illari have treated me like an honored guest, despite being a total stranger—with failures known throughout Inkasisa. What had Ximena’s life been like living with people who despised her?

  I’m about to walk through the door of my little casa when the sudden blast of a horn comes from the top of the hill. I run for the path. Others join me, and soon there are many of us racing toward the bellowing horn.

  They’ve come back.

  Manuel, Manuel, Manuel. Por favor, I pray to Luna, let him be all right.

  My heart pounds against my ribs as I race up the steps, making hairpin turns at every switchback. Voices drift down the hill, and I urge myself to move faster, my legs pumping. The other Illari villagers are at my heels, but I barely notice because Kusi comes into sight at the last turn. He’s carrying one of the volunteers on a platform made of palm fronds and bamboo. Sweat drenches his face and dried blood stains his pale tunic. I fight my panic even as my arms and legs shake. Dread engulfs me. Slowly, I let my gaze drop to the figure on the pallet.

  It’s not Manuel.

  It’s another man, missing both of his legs—the man who was standing next to me that first night, with the young wife who didn’t want him to go. My breath stutters deep in my chest. The pain he must be in… . He lies there, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut, in agony even in his sleep.

  I’m ashamed of the relief I feel that it’s not Manuel, but when I don’t see him in the group, my heart seems to stop altogether. Kusi and another man brush past me and continue their descent. Soon a crowd of Illari encircles them, chattering all at once. I glance back as Sonco appears and embraces his brother, then helps him carry the injured man down the hill.

  There are three of them—but where are the other two?

  I’m breathing much too fast. My hands tremble, fingers numb.

  Behind me comes the sound of a soft, helpless groan. I whip around in time to see Manuel and another figure turn the corner. Both are wobbling, as if the ground quakes beneath their feet. Manuel has his arm wrapped tightly around the young man’s waist, propping him up. I race to the other side of the injured man and lift his arm so it rests across my shoulders.

  Manuel shoots me a quick look, then glances away, concentrating on the barely lit path. The three of us move slowly down the hill. One dragging, stumbling foot after another.

  “What’s your name?” I ask the young man, hoping to distract him.

  “Guari,” he says through clenched teeth. “You are the princesa.”

  “Condesa,” I correct automatically. “Did you eat any good food while you were away?”

  He blinks at me, confused, as Manuel snorts. “You want to know what I ate?”

  I wink at him. “Only if you want to tell me.”

  Guari stares at me, dazed. “Lots of bananas.”

  “You must have had to relieve yourself a lot.”

  “Condesa,” Manuel says, exasperated. “Behave yourself.”

  I lean forward and grin at him. A very soft, reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. We reach the bottom of the hill, and soon several people come and take Guari, guiding him straight to their healer.

  I whirl to face Manuel. “And you? Do you need a healer?”

  The torchlight along the path casts flickering shadows across his face, which is more tired and haggard than when he left. The bruises under his eyes are darker, and the lines across his forehead are even more pronounced. Smudges of dirt stain his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Estoy bien.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  He nods. “I’d eat whatever you put in front of me. Twice.”

  We walk toward my home. He doesn’t have a limp nor is he clutching his side. He really seems fine—exhausted, but hale and whole. “Was it awful?”

  “Yes.” He pushes open the door and stumbles inside. I light all the candles and soon my room is washed in a warm glow. I make him sit, and I’m about to go out again to find something for him to eat when I spot a platter on the table. The clay plate is filled with thinly sliced steak, pan-fried potatoes, choclo, and roasted plantains generously drizzled with honey. As soon as I hand him a fork, he starts eating and doesn’t stop until everything is gone.

  “¿Hay agua?” he asks in a quiet voice.

  I jump to my feet and pour him a cup of water. He guzzles it down and when he’s done, I pour him another. Then I sit across from him on the floor. “What happened to Guari?”

  Manuel flinches.

  My heart clenches. I reach over and place a soft hand on his arm. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  He hesitates, and I wait. And wait. And wait. Then: “It might scare you.”

  “Share your burden with me, Manuel. I’m your friend. Probably your best friend in the whole world.”

  I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead he’s quiet and serious, clearly thinking something but unwilling to bring it out into the open.

  “What is it?” I press.

  His face flushes. “I know you meant it as a joke, but I think it might be true.”

  For once he doesn’t turn away. He lets himself smile, and warmth spreads down to my
toes. “Tell me what happened out there,” I say quickly. “I can handle it.”

  “We set out early this morning. I expected the affected area to be close to the one you and I saw, but we trekked to a part of the jungle I’d never been to. We didn’t stop walking the entire time.” His voice drops to a hush. My ears strain to hear every word. “This part of the jungle was totally gone—as destroyed and bleak as the patch of land we saw with Chaska.”

  “How had no one seen it before?”

  “It’s a part of the jungle they don’t often visit,” he says. “They have enough food and water in this area. They don’t disturb or take from what they don’t need.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I noticed a flower planted in the ground. Do you remember the flower we came across earlier in our journey?” When I nod, he continues. “Well, it was the only thing growing in the entire area. We were all standing around it when we noticed Quinti wasn’t standing next to us anymore. He’d disappeared.”

  “Quinti is the injured man? The one who lost his legs?”

  “Yes, that’s him. We immediately started looking for him, then came this noise—gut-wrenching and awful, not the kind of noise an animal makes. It was kind of like a groan, but louder and angrier. Right after, Quinti screamed. We all went running in that direction, but whatever had attacked him had vanished. I’ve never been so scared. Any moment I expected the beast to return, even as we carried Quinti away. I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder.”

  “Did he get a good look at the monster?”

  “He’s been barely coherent,” he says. “Muttering and crying from the pain. Kusi made him take something that sent him to sleep.”

  “What do you think the monster was?”

  He shoves his plate away. “My best guess is it has something to do with that flower. It was glowing silver like—like Ximena’s moon thread.”

  I gasp. “Could it be someone’s magic—the ability to grow that flower?”

  “I hardly think Luna would bless someone with a gift that destroys life.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “It’s ridiculous.” But as soon as the words are out, I can’t help but latch onto the idea. Perhaps it’s a gift that’s been corrupted? My own gift was half complete because I didn’t understand it. How many of us have blessings that we don’t know how to use properly?

  “I need to sleep,” Manuel says, yawning. He stands and walks over to the end table that has several clean tunics neatly folded on top. He drags the soiled one over his head, and not for the first time, I admire the way his shoulder muscles ripple with movement. He pulls on a fresh shirt, and I look away, blushing.

  It seems unfair for him to sleep outside on the ground when he’s just come back from a harrowing experience. If it were me, I’d want to seek shelter within a safe space, tucked away behind strong walls. “Manuel, take the bed.”

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” But there’s clear longing in his voice. His gaze sweeps the room, missing none of the little details that make the place cozy and warm. The sweet-smelling breeze, tart and floral, drifts in from the open window.

  “We’ve slept near each other for days now,” I say archly. “When’s the last time you truly slept well? Comfortable, without fear of an attack?”

  He hesitates, glancing toward the door. “I have to keep watch.”

  “You’re allowed a night off,” I say quietly. “No one would fault you.”

  The pallet is covered in the thick fur blanket, soft and inviting. He seems to think so too, because he sinks down on top of it. The bamboo cot creaks as he stretches out his long legs. I freeze, unsure of what to do or say. I didn’t actually think he’d accept. He must be extremely tired. I blow out all the candles, intending to pick up my telescope and seek Luna, but his voice stops me.

  “Catalina,” he whispers.

  I startle at the sound of my name. “¿Qué?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a long, long time. Just as I’m about to reach for the telescope again, his voice cuts through the dark again. “Up here with me.”

  Thank Luna the room is pitch black so he can’t see my huge grin. I stumble toward him, reaching out with my hands until my fingers bump against the cot. My hand glides along the soft animal fur, until he clasps onto my arm and slowly pulls me on top, straddling him. He reaches up to my face, softly tracing the curve of my cheek, then brushes the hair from out of my eyes.

  “Manuel,” I whisper. “I thought we ended this.”

  “We did,” he murmurs back. “But I can’t escape you no matter how far away I am. Why is that?”

  I don’t have an answer for him.

  My eyes have adjusted to the shadows, and I can make out the warm glint in his eyes. I pinch his side, and he chuckles. Then he becomes serious, because it’s Manuel, and he can’t help but be responsible and dutiful. “I’m completely wrong for you.”

  “You’ve said,” I mutter. Sonco’s words rush into my mind. I ought to tell Manuel what we talked about. That I might have a chance of acquiring the army—through the possibility of marriage, if I were to only prove myself as a seer. Manuel would help me in a heartbeat. Because he wants me to fulfill my destiny as much as I do. That’s who he is: Even if it broke his heart, he’d want me to be who our people need me to be.

  But I keep silent.

  The moment I say any of it, Manuel will back away for good. Here in the dark, with his hands on me, his raw vulnerability, I don’t have the strength to end what’s happening.

  “I’m tired of trying to block out what I feel,” Manuel whispers.

  “Me too,” I confess.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking all day.”

  “What about?”

  “This,” he growls, and pulls my head down, pressing his lips against mine, hard. He curves a strong arm around my waist, holding me flush as he deepens the kiss. Every thought I have escapes, until the only thing I can think about is the way he’s holding on to me for dear life—how his mouth works like a drug. I slip my hands into his hair, curl a strand tightly around my finger.

  Each of his kisses detonates my senses. As he slides his hand up my back, heat flares between us, potent and obliterating, and for a moment I forget where we are entirely. We kiss and kiss and kiss. He brushes the side of my breast, and we both freeze, lips whisking against each other, breaths ragged. Slow awareness creeps in. The sound of frogs croaking outside. The gentle breeze that sweeps inside, cooling my back, teasing my hair. His hard chest underneath my ribs.

  “What am I doing?” he mutters to himself.

  “Don’t,” I say. “Stop thinking.”

  “Clearly I already have, Catalina.” He presses his hot mouth against the side of my neck and I shiver. Then he positions me against his side, my head tucked under his chin, and I drape my leg over him. I tell myself it’s only for a few minutes. Just until he falls asleep. We lie quietly, the animal fur tickling the back of my neck and Manuel’s steady breathing slowly lulling me to sleep.

  During the night, I dream of monsters.

  CAPÍTULO

  Veintisiete

  I wake sometime in the middle of the night with a jerk, pressed tight against Manuel’s side. His body is hot underneath mine, and I shift out of his arms. He mumbles softly, his hand curling into his hair. He looks so young while he sleeps. I blink into the dark, trying to rid the nightmare from my mind, and focus on untangling myself from the fur covering. I can’t believe I fell asleep.

  How much time do I have left before Luna disappears?

  Slowly, I stand, careful not to make any noise, but then my gaze snags on Manuel, dread blooming deep in the corner of my heart. For a second I can’t move. The memory of his mouth against mine makes my blood feverish. Tonight was a mistake. I know what my duty is, but my heart refuses to cooperate. I need to give Manuel up, to let him go so that we can both move on. What kind of condesa will I be if I can’t make sacrifices?

  I have to end this for good.
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  Moonlight sweeps into the room, and I blink at the sudden light. I turn toward the window, frantic. Please, por favor, let it not be close to morning. My steps are soft as I peer outside, tipping my head back. The stars glint and shimmer against the inky night, freckles on a beautiful goddess. They move, slow and deliberate, nearly fading from view.

  There’s barely enough time.

  There’s a soft groan behind me and I spin around. Manuel sits up, wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep.” I fight to keep my voice cool and composed. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  When I turn to look for my telescope, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Where are you going?”

  “There’s something I must do.”

  He swings his feet toward the ground. “Let me get my boots.”

  “Manuel,” I say firmly. “I won’t go far. Just outside the door, I promise. You need to rest.”

  He half groans, half yawns. “If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming to get you.”

  “Ten minutes. All right.” But by the time I lace up my sandals, he’s not only fallen back to sleep, his snores fill up the quiet room. I grab my dented telescope and pull open the door. The night is warm and scented by the surrounding oak trees. I walk along the path, searching for the best place to sit so I can work. I find an area close to my temporary home where nothing blocks the stars.

  Normally I would clear my mind and only think of Luna, but this time I kneel onto the soft ground and say a prayer to Pachamama, too. I honor her commitment to providing food and shelter. I praise her creation, beautiful as it is dangerous and wild. My fingers dig into the ground, touching the velvety soil, tickling the grass. Peace settles deep into my soul, into my bones. I lift my dented bronze telescope and tilt my head back.

  The stars shift and align to create perfect shapes. The image of the young boy returns. He’s older now, his expression meaner, his lips curling in a snarl. He’s been ostracized from his tribe, hunting alone and angry. He has no care for where he steps, angrily overturning rocks, butting his walking stick against tree trunks, scaring small rodents. For all his rage, I sense the despairing sadness clutching at his edges. And then the conversation shifts, the letters rearranging to paint a different picture. Paititi comes into focus, but it’s tainted. A dark smudge on an otherwise bright landscape. And then the image of the boy returns, but now he’s much older.