Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(15)

“You’re the niece of our oppressor,” he comments. “You don’t look a thing like her. Tyrant that she was, at least you could say she was beautiful.”

I don’t flinch. He wants to demean me in front of his subjects? Fine. A small price to pay for revenge. “My deepest apologies for disappointing you.”

He ignores my sarcasm.

“Provided you don’t in the future, I’ll forgive your unfortunate appearance. After all, you will be my wife.”

I stand in stunned silence. I’m prepared for this, or so I believed. But looking at my enemy, at the power radiating off him, I suddenly want to sit before I fall over. Dimly, his words circle me and none of it makes any sense. I can’t silence the roaring in my head.

“… married at Carnaval. We’ll—”

I startle. “What did you say?”

A collective gasp erupts behind me. He regards me coldly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He leans forward. “Never,” he says, “interrupt me again. Nunca.”

My mouth goes dry.

He settles back, his fingers drumming against the seat. “I said the wedding will be during Carnaval.”

I sway on my feet. Carnaval? That’s a mere … eight, no six, weeks from now. I thought I’d have more time. I have to find the Estrella, have to figure out how to get my tapestries out of the castillo. Ana needs to prepare our troops.

A cold reality hits me. Ana isn’t at the keep. Sofía is dead. Manuel is away on his mission. The only person left to lead the Illustrians in the battle to win back the throne is … Catalina.

The high priest marches to Atoc and whispers something in his ear. Sajra fastens a hard gaze on me, probing and invasive. Time slows as it did at the castillo gates and I struggle to remain on my feet.

He bends and whispers once again, and Atoc nods.

“An excellent idea, Sajra.”

My heart thunders painfully, slamming against my ribs.

“Until the wedding,” Atoc says, “you’re not to leave the castillo grounds, and a guard will be with you at all times. Should you try to leave, or inflict harm on any of my subjects, I’ll burn down the bridge. All Illustrians will be rounded up and sacrificed to Inti.”

My lips thin. An empty threat. Ana’s magic will protect my people—

I nearly faint.

If Ana’s safety isn’t guaranteed, our protection will disappear. Even worse, our bridge will become visible. She must be released and returned to the fortress. The walls of the Illustrian keep are nearly indestructible. Without the Estrella, Atoc would lose a sizable chunk of his army trying to tear down the fortress.

“I want complete access to the fort,” he goes on.

“You’ll be given access after the wedding.” I keep my expression firm. “Not a moment before.”

The room quiets, but I don’t care. He can’t be allowed inside the Illustrian fortress. As far as I know, none of these Llacsans understand how the protection spell on the bridge works. They don’t know it’s Ana who weaves it. To them, the only way inside the keep is with my word.

He stands, his fists on his hips. “I’ll have it now.”

“If you’re serious about peace between our people, then you’ll accept my terms,” I say. “How do I know you won’t try to murder me before the wedding?” I make my voice softer, almost coaxing. “Once we’re wed, the fortress is yours—along with the spring.”

The words are out in the open and until I say them, I don’t realize how true they are. If I fail, my people will not only lose their future queen, but their home as well. Cielos, even their lives.

This is our only chance to reclaim what belongs to us.

“It’s only six weeks,” I say. “In the meantime, I’m here as your guarantee.”

He appears mollified and sits again. “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll be lenient.”

Atoc snaps his fingers, beckoning to the boy standing at the end of the line. The boy who took away my weapons. The boy who smells like burning ragweed.

“Rumi,” Atoc says again, louder this time. “Quit daydreaming or whatever in diablos you’re doing.”

The boy jerks in surprise and laughter ripples through the crowd. He pushes his way through until he stands in front of his king. The people around him give him a wide berth as he sinks to his knees. A few snicker when the boy lays a hand over his heart.

“High King of Inkasisa,” he says. “I am your faithful servant. How may I—”

“Take the condesa to her chamber,” Atoc says impatiently. “See to it she is bathed, and her garments burned. She can wear Llacsan clothing.” He doesn’t glance my way. “Leave a guard outside her door. The girl is your responsibility, primo.”

“It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty. May the ruler of Inkasisa live forever,” Rumi says with a winsome smile, all simpering charm and polite manners. A sharp contrast to my earlier treatment. He remains kneeling, as if transfixed.

Someone chuckles.

“Rumi,” Atoc says, exasperated. “Do it now.”

He springs to his feet. “Yes, Shining One. Por supuesto.”

His king rolls his eyes and turns to face me. “You’re dismissed.”

I frown. He never mentioned the Illustrian prisoners. “A moment, Atoc.”