Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(49)

The moment the frog has all four legs, it leaps off the tapestry. Laughing, I jump to my feet as frog and lizard circle each other warily. And suddenly they’re running around each other as if playing a game only they understand.

My fingers itch to create more and more. I’m breathless and happy and I forget the Llacsans, forget about the Estrella. It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time.

Two hours later an anaconda curls around my feet, a sloth falls asleep on the foot of my bed, three little ants rest happily on my pillow, and a llama nibbles the corner of my bedspread. They all have the moon thread somewhere on their bodies, on ears and paws, a leg or a tail. The sloth and llama slowly stretch, the wool lengthening until they become regular-sized creatures. I’ve never seen this kind of moon magic before. What a gift from Luna. And they’re for me. Not for the condesa, and certainly not for Atoc.

Me. I love them.

Stretching, I glance down at my nearly empty basket. I have enough supply for one more message to Catalina. I want to ask her about the discontented Illustrians roaming the streets of La Ciudad. I want to know if she has a plan, or if she’s at least thinking about a solution.

But the question remains: How will I get the messages out of the keep? I throw a disgruntled look over to the tapestry I’d woven earlier and rub my brow in frustration. Part of me wishes I could transform into a bird and just fly out—

Madre de Luna.

I scoop up more wool, turn it into moon thread, and get to work. The head of a parrot appears beneath my fingers. On the body of the bird, I weave my message about the possible locations for the Estrella. Finally I add its claws and wings.

I want the bird to fly to the fortress and deliver my message. The parrot’s wings twitch. I gasp in delight, stumbling to my feet and knocking over the stool. “Come on,” I whisper. “Show me what you can do.”

The bird peels off the tapestry and hops to my arm.

“Can you fly?” I ask the parrot. It turns a baleful eye in my direction. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. This one has personality. “Can you understand me?”

The parrot flutters its wings as it grows to full size. Its claws dig into my skin. Spreading its wings, it soars away from me, and I whirl around on the stool, following the bird’s movement. It flies close to the balcony.

My heart races as I fling open the doors and drop to my knees. Moonlight covers me from head to foot. The bird nips lightly at my skin.

“Luna,” I say breathlessly, clenching my eyes. I need her help. Can she light a path to the castillo for the bird so it won’t get lost?

I wait for a sign. And wait some more.

Luna reveals herself to us all the time. In small ways, in big ways. She pushes the constellations into new positions to communicate with us. Her moonlight revives and heals, and she speaks to those devoted to her. Her magic blesses us with extraordinary gifts.

I open my eyes and look at the parrot, then motion toward the night sky. Urging it onward as I cling to the hope that it will fly to the Illustrian fortress.

“Don’t let me down, bird,” I say. “I’m counting on this getting to Catalina.”

It nibbles at my finger affectionately and soars out and away. I stand on the balcony as if transfixed. The bird glides high into the inky night.

It flies in the direction of home.





CAPíTULO





The next afternoon, Juan Carlos takes me to the gardens. He seems to know when I need fresh air, and the realization irks me. We walk to my favorite bench and he leaves me there, watching carefully from under the shade of a toborochi tree. The stone is hot beneath my long skirt, but I ignore the press of its heat.

One of the castillo’s side entrances opens and out comes the healer, carrying bottles of dried herbs and walking toward the army training grounds. He tips his head back, shutting his eyes, letting the sun warm his face, and something flutters within me. Vaguely uncomfortable. I almost call out to him, but I bite my lip.

It doesn’t matter. He sees me and stops from across the garden. We stare at each other for a moment, and then his toes pivot in my direction. He lazily cuts through the garden, his eyes on mine until he’s standing a foot away from the bench.

“You’ll melt out here if you don’t seek shade,” he says. “Your face is turning red.”

“Buenas tardes to you too.” I motion toward the glass bottles in his hands. “What do you have there?”

“Dried lavender,” he says absently. “Seriously, you should get out of the sun. You’ll burn—”

“Stop worrying,” I say.

Rumi looks over my shoulder and meets Juan Carlos’s gaze. “You’re supposed to be watching her.”

“I am watching her.”

“I meant—” Rumi breaks off with a quiet laugh, his face flushing.

Juan Carlos chuckles as if there’s some joke between them. The healer gently places the bottles onto the cobblestone, the glass clinking against the hard rock, and sits next to me. We sit in silence for several long minutes. I’m enjoying the honey and mint scent too much to go back inside the stifling castillo.

My gaze lands on the watchtower, several stories high. Assuming my parrot reached the keep, Catalina has read my message by now, and she’ll be able to check out the distant coordinates. Only I can search that tower.