Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(5)

Catalina tucks the telescope under her arm and smiles gratefully.

I plop onto the bed. “I’m sleeping in. Don’t kick me in the middle of the night.”

Catalina laughs and curls up beside me. “You always steal the blanket.”

“You have the only pillow in the entire keep.”

She nudges my shoulder sharply. I quickly snatch the pillow from underneath her head and smack her face with it. Catalina lets out a peal of laughter as she ducks away from my next hit. “Give me back my pillow, peasant.”

I scoff and land another blow. Catalina grabs the pillow back with a dramatic huff and tucks herself under the blanket, pretending to be annoyed. Anything to forget about the roles we play. I’m not the only one who can’t go by her own name.

She flings her arms wide, and I resist the urge to shove her off the bed. We settle into companionable silence. The pair of us staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. I can’t get the image of empty food baskets out of my mind.

“You’re right,” she whispers. “It’s strange she’s not back yet.”

I turn toward Catalina and grab the small bundle of moondust from my pocket. “Try not to think about it.” I hold up the bag. “Are you ready for it?”

“Don’t waste it on me. I can try to sleep without it.”

I give her a look. “It’s not like I can’t make more.”

“How much time will you have to weave when you’re managing what we’re going to eat?” She refuses to meet my eye.

“Catalina …”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks. “I know I messed up. I just think the rations are paltry. Lo siento.”

I understand how tempting it is to offer comfort in some way, however small. She can’t be the condesa—not in public, anyway—so she makes up for it by helping and speaking for me, giving as much of herself as she can.

I throw my arm around her shoulders and squeeze. I don’t have the answers, but at least I can help her sleep. “Why don’t you try to rest? Use the moondust.”

She nods.

I blow a pinch of shimmering dust in her face. The effect is almost instant. Catalina’s eyes shut as she snuggles deeper into the pillow.

She looks so young when she sleeps. I inch the blanket higher until it tickles the bottom of her jaw, and then I close my eyes. Thoughts of Ana and our low supplies crash around in my head, and I wish for the millionth time moondust worked on me. We depend on Ana for so much: to lead our resistance, to protect our fortress, to keep our people alive. And she’s counting on us to keep things in order until she gets back.

It feels like my eyes have barely closed before a sharp knock jerks me awake. Next to me, Catalina sits up, rubbing her eyes. The heavy wooden door opens and Sofía pushes in, dressed for battle in a long-sleeve tunic and thick leather belt that stows her sword. On her feet are scuffed leather boots that I know hide slim blades in secret pockets.

“I hope you brought coffee,” I mumble. “Lots of it. Con azúcar.”

“We’re out of sugar,” Sofía says.

Of course we are. “Why are you up at dawn? Is there a training session I don’t know about?”

Sofía motions toward the window, her face grim and serious. “The enemy comes. They’re on the other side of the bridge.”





CAPíTULO





I jump out of bed, flinging the sheets aside as if they’re on fire. “How many are there? Have they crossed the bridge?” Has Ana’s magic—

Sofía holds up her hand. “The Llacsans aren’t warriors. They’re asking permission to cross the bridge because they have a message from Atoc.”

“Permission?” I ask.

In the years since the revolt, not one Llacsan has ever asked permission to enter the Illustrian stronghold. They’ve demanded entry, or Atoc’s priest has tried to cross over with his blood magic, hoping to force an unsuspecting Illustrian to show him the way.

“Condesa, what do you want to do?” Sofía asks.

I open my mouth to reply before realizing she isn’t talking to me.

Sofía is looking at Catalina.

My jaw tightens. I don’t make the decisions. I simply uphold them. Catalina’s voice is the loudest I hear in my head, governing what I think and sometimes even what I feel. I understand the role I play down to my bones, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. I want to be heard too. Sometimes, when my temper gets the best of me, I’m secretly pleased. That’s the real me breaking through the mask.

Catalina’s hands tug at the corner of the blanket. “Has your mother come back yet?”

Sofía’s eyes darken. “Not yet.”

I frown. This is bad. Really, really bad.

“No word from Manuel?” Catalina asks in a hopeful tone.

Sofía shakes her head. “My brother hasn’t written in months.”

“This is ridiculous. We need to send people to look for her—for them,” I say. “How many went with her?”

“Four. I already gave the order to send out a search team.” Sofía runs a hand through her dark hair in a gesture that mimics her mother.

“All right.” Catalina takes in a deep breath. Her fingers drop the edges of the blanket, and she sits up straighter. Her voice doesn’t waver as she speaks. “Take their weapons. Let them over the bridge. We’ll hear their message, and when Ana returns, we’ll decide what to do next.”