Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(53)

“Hasn’t your betrothed mentioned it?” Instead of sitting next to me, she paces the room. Despite her polished exterior, she’s a ball of barely contained energy, even in the middle of the night. Stacks of books litter the stone floor. The princesa uses her foot to push them away in order to clear a path for her pacing. She has a weaver’s needle tucked behind her ear. The pockets of her robe are stuffed with wool.

“No one mentions you,” I say. “Well, no one except Rumi.”

The princesa smiles. “I haven’t spoken to him in ages. How is my old friend?”

“Well, I guess. Smelly.”

A startled laugh escapes her. “Smelly? What do you mean?”

“I mean he really ought to clean his clothing. The whole court smells it. I even said something to him—”

“You talked to him about how he smells? What did he say?”

I shrug. “I forget. Something contrary. He’s really bothersome.”

“Bothersome,” she echoes. “Interesting. I’ve always found him to be polite.”

“That’s because he’s in love with you.”

Princesa Tamaya throws her head back and laughs. “What an idea!”

I smile, half surprised by the easy nature of our conversation, and half amused by her denial of Rumi’s feelings.

“Nobody mentions me? Not even my brother?”

I shake my head.

She throws a scowl my way. “So he still doesn’t know what to do with me.”

I open my mouth to respond but catch myself in time. Is it possible she doesn’t know her fate? I’m certainly not going to tell her. I can only imagine how well that conversation would go. The princesa observes me. She smiles again, this time a grim sort of smile that endears her to me. Maybe because she’s just as trapped as I am.

“He’s changed,” she says shortly. “My brother.”

“How so?”

“He lost his childhood love in the revolt,” she says. “It made him angry, bitter. All of his energy turned to governing Inkasisa. The throne became everything: his family, his love, his best friend. Soon all he could talk about was ensuring his legacy. He stopped talking to me and talked at me. My brother used to sneak into La Ciudad to buy me orange rinds dipped in dark chocolate. He’d tell me stories while we ate them under the shade of a toborochi tree. We haven’t eaten them together in a long, long time.”

“That doesn’t sound like the man I know.”

“Have you visited his museum yet?”

“What museum?”

“The one constructed in our village near the mountain. It cost thousands of notas to build. It has the bed we slept on when we were kids, all of his old clothing, his cacho playing set, painting after painting of him on a horse, on the throne, or with a slingshot.” She lets out a mirthless little laugh. “It even has his old chamber pot.”

My stomach churns. “That’s disgusting. I haven’t heard about—”

“It’s not open to the public yet. I think he means to announce the grand opening during Carnaval.”

I settle back into the cushions, my eyes following her as she paces up and down the length of the room. This girl is like a caged parrot. Desperate to flee and soar the skies.

“I don’t particularly care to talk about your brother,” I say. “Unless you’re dying to.”

“He makes for an atrocious topic of conversation.” She sits down heavily on the couch. “I admit, I’m surprised to see you here. I haven’t seen anyone—outside of my guards, I mean—in weeks. I’ve been wondering what you’d be like.”

“How do you even know about me?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she says with a laugh. “Just because I’m locked away doesn’t mean I don’t have access to the outside world. Spies planted in the castillo and throughout La Ciudad. I also have many resourceful friends. I think you even met one of them the other night.”

My mouth drops open. “El Lobo? He’s your confidant?”

She winks at me. “We’re getting away from the topic, I fear. Tell me about yourself.”

I avert my gaze, buying time to consider what and how much to share. It’s clear there’s bad blood between the princesa and her brother…. Perhaps opening up to her might be useful. Another ally against Atoc, and there’s her connection to El Lobo to consider too.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything! What do you like to do? What are you afraid of?”

“That’s very personal. And specific.”

“Have mercy on me. I’m alone most of the time,” she says coaxingly.

“I like to stab things. Heights really bother me. I need coffee every day, and I’m not that excited about getting married.”

The words are out before I realize what I’ve said.

Everything I mentioned describes me—not Catalina. I forgot that I’m playing a role. But the princesa has a way about her that feels familiar, like walking into a house that is cozy and inviting. It makes me want to relax. Which is dangerous. I can’t afford to slip up again in her presence.

“Considering the groom, it’s not surprising,” she says dryly. “And I love coffee too. Atoc refuses to give me some. I think he’s hoping I’ll sleep all day and not cause any trouble.”