Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(4)

“Stop it,” Catalina says. “Just stop it. This isn’t helping, Ximena.”

Goose bumps flare on my forearms. I rarely hear my real name said aloud. When Ana first brought me into the keep ten years ago, she switched me with Catalina behind closed doors.

Back then, her protective parents limited public outings and kept her social circles centered around family. But they all perished in the revolt. When Ana had dressed me in the Condesa’s fine clothing, Illustrians never questioned my identity. They believed I was their heir, their last hope to reclaim the throne, safely hidden from Atoc.

That’s when Catalina became Andrea. Only Ana’s two children, Sofía and Manuel, know the truth, and as a form of habit, they call me the condesa like everyone else.

“Atoc’s priest keeps trying to cross the bridge with his underlings,” I say. “You can’t give away our emergency reserves. That’s what they’re there for—in case the Llacsans manage to cross, we’ll have to wait them out.”

Catalina’s lips thin into a pale slash. “Keep your voice down. Everyone will hear you. Ana’s shadow magic will hold against the priest.”

As long as Ana’s still alive. I slump forward on the stool, my fingers tangling in my hair. When Ana told me about her plans for this undercover mission to La Ciudad, I was against it. The city is crawling with Atoc’s guards, and Ana isn’t as young as she used to be. But rumors swirl that his greatest weapon—the Estrella—has gone missing, and if they’re true, there won’t be a more opportune time to finally strike the Llacsans.

I wanted to go with her, but she refused. It’s an old argument. I already have a job. As a child, being the condesa’s decoy seemed easier than living on the streets among the people who’d killed my family and ruined my home. But I didn’t realize then what I’d be giving up—my very identity.

It’s an honor to protect Catalina. To give up my life for hers should it come to that. And despite my duty, despite the long years of living as somebody else, I love her. As a sister, as my future queen.

Sometimes, though, that kind of love just isn’t comfortable.

I send a silent prayer to Luna, asking for Ana’s safe return. If the Estrella’s missing, someone has to look into it. Ana knows the city better than anyone, aside from Manuel, who’s off traveling to the ends of Inkasisa to secure allies. They are few and far between. Most tribes are loyal to the false king, and the ones who aren’t don’t dare rise against him. But still, Ana sends Manuel to every corner of the kingdom. She’s stubborn that way. It’s a trait that has kept us alive all these years.

Catalina is right. Ana will come through. There simply is no other option.

“I need to read the stars,” Catalina says. “Maybe there will be something about Ana.”

I force a smile. She needs every bit of encouragement. “Buena suerte. I’ll be there in a minute.”

After she leaves, I finish weaving the bottom row of the tapestry. I tie off the strands so my work won’t unravel, then hang the tapestry on the wall. Next, I straighten up the place. The leftover wool goes back into my basket; the scraps go into my pocket. I scoop up the moondust shed from my weaving and dump the whole shimmering mess into a canvas bag I keep handy. When inhaled, the powder brings on a heavy, dreamless sleep. Sadly, I’m immune to it.

I sigh and head to the room I share with the condesa. We don’t have much furniture in the keep, and what little we do decorates our room: a narrow bed and dresser, one nightstand, and a pillow. The white paint on the stone walls has faded to a dingy gray.

Catalina is leaning—practically falling—out the window, a dented bronze telescope in her hands. She leans out farther, and I suck in a breath, forcing myself to remain silent. She’d only laugh at my worry. Illustrian magic—magic from the heavens, the night sky—manifests in different ways and at different ages. For some, the magic is slight, like the ability to stay up all night. Manuel’s Moonsight gives him clearer vision when the sun dips into the horizon. Sofía can illuminate darkened rooms. Others are masters of tides. Many who fight in our army become fiercer at night, dangerous like the creatures that hunt by the moon.

Mine is weaving with moonlight. But Catalina reads the stars, the constellations hanging miles above our heads. Deep in the night sky, she can see shifting, glittering lines. A trained and capable Illustrian seer can decipher each new message written in the heavens, but it takes years of dedicated learning and plenty of favor bestowed by Luna.

We used to rely on the seer’s guidance for every major decision. The last person who could accurately read the stars died in the revolt. Now we have only Catalina left to guide us.

And her predictions rarely come true.

“Any luck?”

“Maybe.” Catalina squints into the night. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

That’s a no, then.

She glances at me, her eyes drawn. “Why is this so hard? Even when I see something that might be useful, I’m too scared to share. What if I’m wrong?”

I lean against the arched doorway. “It’ll get easier.”

She wipes her eyes, yawning. “How do you know?”

“Because everything does with practice.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “I think you’ve done enough tonight. Let’s get some sleep. I brought you moondust.”