Fugitives of Fate

by Morganfield, T. L.

  "I know all of this, Mother," Cuauhtemoc snapped.

  "Then at least pretend that you care about your face," she retorted. "Marry Xocotzin as soon as you can, so everyone knows you're thinking about the future."

  "I am thinking about the future, Mother, in more important ways than marriage. My having a new wife or a son to take my place won't matter if we can't defend our borders from invasion, so I don't have time for this nonsense right now. I have to convince Tlaxcala to accept a peace treaty with us, so we're ready when the next wave of Spaniards makes landfall."

  His mother blinked. "You're offering peace to Tlaxcala?" She said it as if it were the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard. "What would your father say?"

  Cuauhtemoc waved her off. "I don't have time for this same tired argument. That slave you're convinced I'm burying my digging stick in happens to know a great deal about Tlaxcala and she's helping me; she’s helping all of us. Her knowledge will do far more good for the empire than some ceremony that will bind me to a minor princess of Texcoco, so no, I won't move the wedding up. And Ixtlil agrees with me. The wedding will wait until Xocotzin is of age." He started to leave, but then turned to her again and demanded, "And stop comparing me to Father. I know you hated how he bedded half the palace staff, but I am not him. And I don't sleep with my slaves." To her guards lingering nearby, he added, "Please see my mother out."

  She stomped her foot, but then swept out of the gardens, her guards following behind her.

  He returned to Malinali, who still watched the grass with practiced patience. He sat with a huff, glowering. "My apologies for the interruption."

  Malinali finally glanced up at him. "It's all right."

  "My mother is very concerned about appearances, far more than she is about reality." He let out a deep breath. "Anyway, you were saying?"

  She looked away as if searching the grass for her train of thought.

  He shook his head. "Forget about it. I don't think you can tell me anything more that will make everything fall into place. I'm ready to finish writing the treaty."

  She nodded again, disappointment on her face. "I should get back to the kitchens. I'm certain they could use my help preparing for the evening meal." She started rising.

  "Wait!" Cuauhtemoc grabbed her hand but immediately released it when he saw her glance sharply at it. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to Tlaxcala in a week, to deliver the treaty personally, and I'd really like you to come with me, as my advisor."

  "If you wish, Revered Speaker."

  "If you wish," he corrected. "If you'd rather stay here, I understand, but—"

  "I would be honored to help you, My Lord," she immediately answered, her eyes bright with happiness.

  Cuauhtemoc smiled. "Wonderful. We'll be traveling on horseback, so let's go out to Chapultepec and I can start training you to ride on your own."

  "Right now?"

  "The kitchens have plenty of help," he assured her. "Besides, I have the perfect horse for you."

  ¤

  Malinali's heart stopped when Cuauhtemoc took her hand in his, and it didn't calm down until they reached the royal docks. She sat opposite him in the barge's central enclosure, saying little as she marveled over Cuauhtemoc's invitation. His advisor! She'd once had the notion to find someone who recognized she had more to offer the world than her body, but those years in Tlaxcala convinced her that was another foolish, childish dream. But perhaps it was time to reconsider.

  At the stables, Cuauhtemoc handed her a pair of buckskin pants. "You'll be more comfortable wearing these. Just roll the bottom of your dress up to your waist." He pointed to an empty stall a few paces away. "You'll have privacy in there."

  In the stall, she worked her way into the pants and rolled up her dress, pinning the pleat in place with a few maguey thorns she always carried, in case she tore her dress while working. When she stepped out, she found Cuauhtemoc waiting for her near the outer door.

  He had changed into pants as well, but went bare-chested this time. He had several scars along the ridges of his muscles, trophies of his years in the military. She couldn't help staring at them as she approached. If he noticed, he said nothing. He proceeded out into the yard at her side.

  Tlazocozcatl stood ready near the back gate. A second horse—smaller and more delicate in build—stood with him, her head high and ears alert as they approached. Her liquid-black eyes glistened in the sun, the light revealing deep hints of red chocolate in her hide. "This is Pialoni," Cuauhtemoc told Malinali as he stroked the horse's nose. "She'll be your horse when we go to Tlaxcala."

  "She's beautiful." Malinali ran her fingers through Pialoni's black mane braided with seashells and feathers. When Cuauhtemoc helped her up into the saddle, she felt awkward without him sitting behind her.

  Cuauhtemoc mounted up too then one of the stable boys took hold of Pialoni's bit and guided her out the gate into the field. The guards came after, keeping at a distance.

  They spent the first hour starting and halting their horses as they made their way down the trail towards the far pasture wall. By the second hour, soreness in Malinali's hands made holding the reins difficult, but Cuauhtemoc gave her his buckskin gloves. "I should have given you these sooner," he apologized. "I'll have the leather worker make a pair especially for you by tomorrow." He checked her hands for blisters—yet another heart-racing moment—before helping her secure them. They were too big for her but they worked well at protecting her palms from the reins' sharp edges.

  By the time they reached the patch of trees near the wall, the pain had migrated to her thigh muscles, and she limped once she dismounted. She gritted her teeth as she settled down on the rocky outcrop where they'd sat before.

  "It won't be so bad after a few days, when your muscles adjust," Cuauhtemoc assured her as he unpacked their food bag. "We'll come out here every day for the next week and you'll get used to it soon enough." He handed her some venison wrapped in a tortilla, and she wasted no time starting on it. With eating three meals every day for the last week, her body had grown accustomed and now demanded it, particularly after a hard afternoon of riding.

  While they ate, he stared out on the lake beyond the wall, the urban sprawl glimmering in the afternoon sun. "It still amazes me that we were able to create all this after being forced out on that island only two hundred years ago," Cuauhtemoc said with a proud smile.

  "At least when it all ends, the jungle cannot swallow it up, as it's done to my ancestors' great cities," Malinali said.

  "Gods willing, it won't ever end." He took an impassioned bite of his food.

  "Making peace is the right idea." She let her gaze feather over his bare chest again. She longed to trace her fingers over his scars, feel his smooth muscles under her palms, his bare belly pressed firmly against hers. This time when the warmth flooded over her, she welcomed it rather than fought it.

  His attention was locked on the valley beyond. "I do wonder though...what would my father think?"

  "Your father?"

  "He was huey tlatoani before Motecuhzoma. He doubled the size of the empire in twelve years, through magnificent military power. Everyone expects me to do the same."

  "I'm glad you're not like him. Ahuitzotl isn't spoken kindly of where I came from; people still spit his name." Though when she saw his jaw tighten, she cursed her loose tongue. She knew little about what kind of man her own father was, but if someone said he was anything but a good man, she would be furious. "I'm sorry. I'm certain he was a very good father. You were close with him then?"

  "As close as a five-year-old can be, I suppose," Cuauhtemoc said. "He'd sometimes let me sit on his throne and wear his headdress. My mother said that with her luck, that would be the closest I'd ever get to being huey tlatoani, since my older brothers by his concubines would try to dispose of me to increase their own chances. He assured me that he would always protect me from them. The worst day of my life was the day he stopped remembering who I was."

  Malinali furrowed her
brow, puzzled. "What happened?"

  "The aqueduct bringing water from Coyoacan broke, flooding the city, and he slipped and hit his head while fleeing the waters. The surgeons saved his life by opening his skull, to relieve the swelling, but he...." Cuauhtemoc cleared his throat, blinking rapidly as he looked away. "The man I knew and loved was gone, replaced by a sorry soul that couldn't speak or articulate as well as his own five-year-old son. He didn't know who I was, didn't remember my mother or my sisters, or the countless children he'd fathered by his concubines. He was as helpless as an infant." He paused to stare out over the lake, the pain plain on his face. "He lived two more years before the gods granted him the dignity of death. I wish I'd been strong enough to help him to it sooner, for it would have been a mercy for all of us."

  "You were only a boy."

  He nodded. "And it does no good dwelling on what might have been. Which must sound ridiculous, coming from the man who's built his whole adult life around what might have happened." He finished with a dejected laugh.

  She moved her hand to take his but caught herself in time. If the guards saw her touch him, she might end up with broken fingers; to touch the huey tlatoani's bare flesh was the height of arrogance and presumption. She suspected he found it as ridiculous as she did—he said he hated being treated as a god—but it would be foolhardy to test that theory in plain sight of his guards. She tucked her hands under her legs, better to avoid costly mistakes. "I don't think it's funny at all. My father died when I was very young too, and not a day goes by that I don't wonder how things might have turned out had he not."

  Cuauhtemoc met her gaze with grave eyes. "Were you close with him?"

  She'd known the question was coming; she'd pulled aside that particular curtain and invited him in with her own questions, but it still hurt more than she thought it would when she finally spoke. "He was the Sun and the Moon and everything wonderful in this world to me. He was gentle, but also a fierce warrior when need be. He taught me to shoot a bow and arrow because I was going to inherit his throne, and a ruler must know how to handle weapons. But when I was five, he died. I don't know how, but it was sudden and I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral where they burned his body."

  "Why ever not?" Agitation colored Cuauhtemoc's voice.

  Malinali shrugged. "I wasn't told anything. But my mother remarried within a few weeks and soon after became pregnant, with a son. My new father was perfectly matched to her, both of them cold and aloof, strict and very set on tradition. He despised me immediately, as if he couldn't stand the idea of raising another man's child, and when his son was born.... I tried everything to make him love me; I threw myself into being the perfect noblewoman, following every etiquette with strict discipline, but I never received so much as a nod from him. I tried staying out of his way, hoping maybe if I was invisible, he'd at least tolerate me."

  "But you could never be invisible enough," Cuauhtemoc concluded.

  She nodded, the pain growing heavier. "Then one night, when I was six, he woke me and walked me out of town, where we met a group of slavers. And he gave me to them. 'Do whatever you want with her, just never bring her back here,' he told them, and when they asked if anyone would look for me, he told them he and my mother would ensure no one ever did. I cried for him to not leave me with them, but he didn't even look back as he walked off into the night."

  She'd struggled to keep her voice even, but now it broke, bringing a flood of hot tears with it. Someone took her hand and gripped it tightly, and she felt an arm slip around her waist. She wiped her tears away to see Cuauhtemoc sitting very close, the expression of sympathy and understanding in his eyes making her completely forget everything else. "I'm sorry you got swept up in such petty political games." He let go of her hand to wipe her tears away with his thumb, making that unbearably pleasant heat sweep over her. She thought she should say something, but every word turned to dust as soon as it began coalescing in her mind, especially as he continued stroking her cheek long after the tears dried. A heady excitement swelled inside her as he leaned still closer, his warm breath sending a chill through her. She closed her eyes, awaiting the feel of his mouth on hers. Until that moment, she hadn't realized how much she’d wanted it, how much she needed it.

  But suddenly the horses broke into their strange noises and Cuauhtemoc turned away, his gaze fixed towards the stables far in the distance. The guards drew their bows, arrows ready. "Get down, behind the rocks." The gentle, reassuring man was gone.

  Malinali slipped down off the rocks then crouched behind them. She peered around the edge to see Cuauhtemoc headed for his horse. He pulled a bow and quiver from the saddle bag. One guard called for him to hide in the trees, but Cuauhtemoc ignored him, nocking an arrow instead.

  A horse rode into sight and the guards shouted at the rider to halt. He shouted something back and then one of the guards rode out to meet him while the other positioned himself between Cuauhtemoc and this new arrival. The two men talked a moment then the guard motioned for his comrade to lower his weapon. He then rode back while the other rider headed back the way he'd come. "My Lord, Lord Ixtlilxochitl is on his way. He should be here in a few moments."

  Cuauhtemoc relaxed his grip on the bow and arrow. "I ought to beat him." He returned the weapon to the saddle bag then motioned to Malinali. "It's the King of Texcoco. Sometimes he drops in unexpectedly."

  Before long, a group of men on horseback trotted into the clearing. Cuauhtemoc went to greet them while Malinali stayed with the horses. A large-framed man wearing a black-feathered headdress dismounted then embraced Cuauhtemoc with a roaring laugh. "You really drew your bow to shoot your best friend?"

  "If my best friend wouldn't sneak up on me a day early, he'd have nothing to worry about." Cuauhtemoc put his arm around Ixtlil's shoulder as they walked towards the trees.

  "I thought I should be here to see the Tlachtli match. My city's team is playing, after all, and it would be rude of their own king to not be here to support them." When he saw Malinali lurking behind the horses, Ixtlil gave Cuauhtemoc a questioning smile.

  "This is Malinali." To her, Cuauhtemoc said, "And this is Ixtlilxochitl, King of Texcoco."

  Malinali trained her eyes on Ixtlil's feet as she bowed, but she'd seen enough to get a good idea of him. He wasn't as tall as Cuauhtemoc and possessed a roundness that spoke of affluence. He obviously never missed a meal. He walked with confidence, and his jovial air put her at ease; a stark contrast to Cuauhtemoc's typically reserved manner. She understood why many of the slave women found Ixtlil so charming.

  "So, you're the Malinali," Ixtlil teased. "Cuauhtemoc has so many good things to say about you."

  The thought that Cuauhtemoc gave her any thought outside their normal daily meetings made Malinali hot with embarrassment. "I...you honor me, My Lord," she stammered.

  "I look forward to hearing your thoughts on our treaty with Tlaxcala." Ixtlil then turned to Cuauhtemoc. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

  "Nothing important."

  The words were a thumb to her eye. Was he really dismissing everything that had passed between them? Had she misread his intentions when he leaned in closer? She felt so confused now.

  "I was telling her about my father and what happened to him," Cuauhtemoc went on, finally casting a glance in her direction.

  Ixtlil looked back and forth between them a moment then said to Cuauhtemoc, "You are going to attend the ball game too? It starts in a few hours."

  "It's that late already?" Cuauhtemoc squinted up at the sun.

  "The sun always moves faster when you're enjoying yourself," Ixtlil said with a wink.

  "We should get back, then." Cuauhtemoc helped Malinali up onto her horse, making certain her feet were secure in the stirrups. "We'll come back again tomorrow and continue working on your riding skills."

  "I look forward to it." When he finally smiled at her again, her heart fluttered in her chest. No one had made her feel such inexplicable joy in a long time, and now she wondere
d why she'd been so blind as to not see that he was precisely the kind of man she could fall for.

  ¤

  Curse your bad timing, Ixtlil, Cuauhtemoc thought as the royal canoe pulled into the docks behind the palace. The sun and the moon and the stars had aligned, and Malinali hadn't flinched or moved away when he'd dared go in for the kiss, but then Ixtlil had to ruin it all.

  He barely listened to his friend's conversation as they sat together in the canoe's protective hut. Instead he watched Malinali sitting behind the forward polers, leaning against the side and dragging her fingers through the water, her back to him. She looks lonely. His irritation rose again. If not for Ixtlil, she would be sitting in the hut with me now. And I might not have to continue wondering if I'm the only one feeling something more than friendliness during these afternoons with her. Might we have ended up lying together in the grass in the shade of the trees, sharing more than just our painful pasts? That thought alone made his blood pound with frustration.

  Malinali disappeared in the crowd at the dock when they disembarked. Cuauhtemoc looked for her, hoping for a few parting words, but she was gone. The haste with which she'd departed made him anxious; had his unexpected advance opened a new valley between them?

  "A bath would do you wonders," Ixtlil told him as they went down the hall towards the living quarters. "Get you cooled off after your very hot afternoon with Malinali."

  "My afternoon was not hot," Cuauhtemoc snapped.

  Ixtlil laughed. "Obviously I interrupted something you were very much looking forward to, so please, accept my apologies. If I'd known, I would have waited to show up until much later."

  Cuauhtemoc thought to protest, but his incessant desire only made him grouchier. "A bath would do me well. I smell like a horse."