Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(40)

Instinctively, I look around for my basket of wool and find it full again. This time in blues and greens. I can’t stop the smile on my face. There’s plenty for more messages and to test my magic. I’ll finally know if my tapestries can come to life.

A strange and unwelcome flutter passes through me, settling deep in my belly.

What reason does Rumi have to be nice to me?

This is the sort of thing that threatens my mission. I can handle surly tempers and cold hospitality. I can handle the Llacsans’ hatred for me and the frank distrust in their eyes. But Rumi’s random kindnesses? My guard Pidru smiling when I asked his name? He looked at me not as an Illustrian but as if … I’m just a girl. Even my maid, Suyana, has shown concern for my welfare.

They’re getting under my skin.

I repeat to myself what I know: Atoc is still the wrong person to rule. Catalina will be a much better monarch.

I hold on to that as I put on one of the dark tunics I stole, leaving it loose and baggy to disguise my frame. Then I think about how to cover my face. I don’t have much to work with. The pants don’t fit me right either. I start to fold the hem but then get a better idea. I tear four strips of fabric from the legs and tie two of them together, making a loose-fitting wrap for my hair. Next I rip holes in the third piece for a mask. It falls over my nose and mouth, stopping at my chin. The fourth piece I store in case I need more fabric for later.

I open the balcony windows and venture outside. It’s my best chance of leaving my room undetected. I’d checked the door, and while it was left unlocked, there’s still a guard posted outside. A soft rain falls, enhancing the sweet smell of the eucalyptus trees. Cool night air pushes my curls away from my face, and thick swirls of dark clouds block the moon and stars. Because of the rain, Luna isn’t visible. Will that hinder my plan? I need all the help and blessings I can get. Maybe I ought to wait for a clear night.

But I don’t have the luxury of time. I have to find the enchanted gem. I peer over the railing—Madre de Luna, the balcony below seems miles from where I stand. The fall won’t kill me, but I could certainly break a bone or three. The room below must be occupied, since the doors are flung open to allow the cool breeze inside. If I drop down—my stomach tightens at the thought—the occupant of that room might wake and scream for help.

But I have to risk it.

A small whimper escapes me as I swing a leg over. Pivoting, I face my room then pull the other leg over. I bend and slide my hands down the rail and drop my legs.

Beads of sweat trickle down my back. My room is on the third floor, and as my feet dangle, I sneak a quick peek toward the balcony below me.

My heart races. For a second I’m too dizzy to do anything but hold on to the railing for dear life. I let out a shaky breath. A mosquito buzzes by my chin and I flinch. My palms start to slide on the iron rail. I have to jump.

Ignoring the rushing in my ears, I swing out my legs, rocking until I have enough momentum. The time to let go comes and goes. My fingers don’t want to release the railing, and the roar in my head increases.

I think of everything I’ve lost, and how far I’ve come. I picture Catalina and Ana; I picture Sofía. The hazy outline of my parents’ faces. Seize the night, Ximena.

I let go.

The drop takes a second, but I swear it feels like a lifetime. My feet crash against the balcony floor, and I tumble sideways, landing with a loud grunt. The curtains rustle and tickle my cheeks as a breeze sweeps through. I brace for someone’s cry—my fall was the opposite of graceful. But none comes.

Slowly, I get to my knees. Shooting pains move up along my right side, and my hip bone stings from the fall. There’s no movement in the dark room. Maybe whoever’s inside is a heavy sleeper?

With quiet steps, I pull back the curtain and go inside. My eyes adjust to the darkness. Peering toward the bed, I try to make out a shape.

But there’s no one.

I fall to my knees, air whooshing out of me. Thank Luna there’s no one in here—

The doorknob turns with a sharp creak.

I barely have time to press myself against the wall before the door opens in my face. A woman walks through, reeking of that popular Llacan corn liquor. She pushes the door closed and doesn’t notice me as she stumbles forward. A sliver of slanted light draws a thin gold line on the floor.

“Match, match,” she mumbles.

I reach for the knob, holding my breath. I grab the knob and pull, holding my breath as the patch of light grows wider.

The woman freezes, but before she can turn around, I aim a kick and clip the side of her head with my boot. She slumps to the floor in a heap. She’s dead weight and I don’t want to waste time moving her onto the bed, so I leave her where she lies, hoping she’ll be too drunk or too high to remember a thing.

I make my way down the hall toward the stairs, blazing torches lighting my path, my steps quick and light. The library is on the second floor of the east wing, and I’m willing to bet Atoc’s personal office is too. I just have to get to the other side of the castillo. This takes plenty of patience, as I have to wait until patrolling guards round corners.

At long last, I make it to the east wing in one piece. My footsteps thud against the stone floor as I pass the library. I keep going until I have to veer to the right, and there in front of me are tall double doors with lit torches on either side.

This has to be it.