Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(20)
“Why?”
“Just making conversation,” he says. “Next to Rumi, I’m the main person you’ll be spending time with leading up to Carnaval.”
“Lucky me.”
He merely laughs and resumes waving at the crowd. “You should try smiling; it’s fun.”
Commotion bursts from a group of people ahead that keeps me from responding. How can he suggest I smile? I’m a prisoner. The commotion grows louder and Juan Carlos beckons to the guard riding behind him. “Possible threat. Watch the condesa.”
He rides straight for the growing mob. I can’t tell if it’s a fight brewing or if the people are making such a racket because Atoc is within a few feet of them. I lose sight of Juan Carlos in seconds, and the replacement guard urges me along until we’ve passed the noisy group.
Juan Carlos doesn’t return and the procession snakes into La Ciudad using the many winding streets that bleed into the heart of the city. A crowd of Llacsans waits for us in the Plaza del Sol. There are vendors selling sugared choclo and roasted nuts glazed in cinnamon and cayenne spices. A few are squeezing fresh jugo de mandarina into clay cups, passing them around for tres notas each.
The constant hum of chatter, the sound of animals and people and the wheels of their carts sloshing through puddles, remind me of life before the revolt. Merchants calling out prices for their wares, trying to coax someone into buying something they don’t need, the tolling of the temple bells, the grunts coming from masons building towers and tall buildings that reach the heavens, set against the hazy lavender mountain.
I love the song of the city. After moving to the Illustrian fortress, I found that the sudden silence filled me with regret. It took me years to get used to it, but it still always unnerved me.
I peer at the crowds, reveling in the bustle and noise. All the buildings are decorated with streamers and potted flowers, and in the middle of the plaza stands a platform where a group of prisoners wait for their fates. My gaze narrows at the trio.
Ana stands bound and gagged on that platform.
I gasp and pull on the reins. Acid rises in my gut, sour and faintly tasting like tomatoes. “What is this?”
The guard yanks the reins from my hands. “Move.”
I keep blinking, hoping what I’m seeing isn’t real. But there’s no mistaking Ana—head held high, graying hair fluttering in the morning breeze. On either side of her are bound Illustrians, lined up and waiting to be executed.
“Ana!” I scream. “Atoc! You promised. You said—”
Atoc whirls around in his seat, his brows slamming together into a sharp line. The guard riding next to me hauls me off the horse and drags me across his lap, his dirty hand slapping against my mouth to keep me quiet. I rage against his hold as his horse continues forward, pushing through the crowd.
I turn my head and catch sight of Sajra, his feet spread out, his fingertips lightly touching, giving an air of profound patience as the procession curls around the platform. The guard’s hand presses harder against my mouth, but I bite a stubby finger and he yelps as I slide off his lap, falling to my knees on the hard rock. I barely feel the impact.
I duck around the horse and then scramble forward, dragging my ridiculous dress across the dirty cobblestones and pushing onlookers out of my way to get to Ana.
Her shoulders stiffen and her gaze widens as she jerks her chin upward in warning. She’s seen me. Rough hands grip my shoulders and waist, reeling me back until I’m surrounded by a tight circle of Atoc’s men. I push and shove, but I might as well be fighting statues.
The chamberlain steps forward to announce the king, and everyone drops to their knees. I break off my attack, panting. Through the gaps of the guards’ shoulders, several people gawk at my display. I don’t give a damn. Atoc gave his word. He promised, he—
Luna. My eyes shut. He’d said the prisoners would leave the castillo. That’s all he said.
I let out a hoarse laugh. He tricked me.
The usurper steps in front of the platform, blocking my view of Ana. “You may rise, Llacsans.”
I scan the crowd with a mixture of hope and dread—half wanting to see a friendly face, and half hoping I don’t. Guards weave through the crowd, spears at the ready. If anyone attempts a rescue, it’ll be a massacre. There are too many of them. Atoc drones on and on, and the words scrape against my skin. He says something about flattening the last of the rebels, triumphing over his oppressors. Tears prick my eyes, a salty sting I don’t want anyone to see.
The high priest Sajra walks onto the platform. The crowd hushes. I didn’t realize Atoc had finished his ramblings, and now it’s time. I’m not ready. Sajra yanks off Ana’s gag.
“Ana, you are to be an example for all the Illustrians in Inkasisa,” Sajra says. “Let the condesa see what happens to her people should she not obey His Majesty, the faithful servant of our earth goddess and sun god, King Atoc!”
Ana looks in my direction. I can barely meet her gaze because of the guards blocking my view. This is the woman who brought me to the Illustrian keep. Who taught me how to defend myself. Who made sure I had enough water to drink and food to eat. This is Sofía’s mother, who I vowed to save. Without her magic, we’re near defenseless. The bridge will become visible and then only stone walls will be left to protect my people against Atoc’s army.
I shove against the backs of the guards, but they don’t move an inch.