Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(54)

“Do you cause trouble?”

She looks at me intently. “When the occasion calls for it. How old were you when the revolt happened?’

“Eight,” I say. “I only have one clear memory from that night.”

Princesa Tamaya doesn’t press me for details. Part of me wishes she would, and a larger part wonders why she asked the question at all. Now I want to ask her what she remembers from that night. If she remembers the ghosts. If she remembers how many Illustrians died at their hands. If their deaths made her sad … or if she’d celebrated with everyone else.

“Do you remember what your life was like when an Illustrian queen sat on the throne?” I ask.

If she’s surprised by my question, she doesn’t show it. She tilts her head back and shuts her eyes. “I wasn’t allowed to go to school. My parents didn’t have a lot of money. There were more of us back then, and lots of mouths to feed. I remember being hungry.”

“You must have been pleased with the victory.”

She lifts a dainty shoulder. “Was I? We lost my parents, and two brothers. I was the baby of the family and was sent away to live with an aunt. I don’t think even Atoc celebrated that day.”

I avert my gaze and trace a pattern on the pillow with my finger. I’ve never thought about what that day must have been like for the Llacsans. It’s easier to focus on what we lost and what they gained. Beyond that, anything else makes the solid ground I’m standing on wobble. I want to remain standing … not topple over and forget where I came from.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here, Condesa?”

Her question was inevitable, but I haven’t decided what to tell her. She seems to hold contempt for her brother, but that doesn’t mean I can trust her. The vigilante is one of her loyal friends, and he’s about as trustworthy as a convict’s wink.

Princesa Tamaya leans forward, an impish gleam in her eye. “Or perhaps I can show you?”

I blink.

She strides to the handsome wooden loom. Using her foot, she drags the stool over and delicately sits, her knees spread apart. She inhales deeply and pauses for a long moment, as if waiting for inspiration to strike. I drum my fingers on the cushion as the minutes drag. What is she waiting for? I’m wasting my time. The Estrella can’t be hidden here. At last she seems to settle on an idea and then proceeds to warp the loom, readying for a new tapestry.

I get off the couch and stand behind her, peering over her shoulder. Her elegant fingers fly across the loom, from one end to the other, and within minutes the bottom of the tapestry is done. I’ve never seen anyone weave faster than I do, but she’s working the loom as deftly as if it were part of her.

“Recognize her yet?” she murmurs.

I bend and peer closely at the tapestry. I gasp—Madre de Luna. The image is of a girl with long, curling hair, dark eyes and brows. In her hands, she’s holding a shimmering gem encased in a bracelet.

It’s me grasping the Estrella.

Princesa Tamaya slowly pivots on the stool and looks up at me with a curved smile. “Well, well, Condesa. You’re more ambitious than I’ve given you credit for. Looking for the Estrella, are you? Wanting to have your revenge against Llacsans.”

Which is exactly our plan.

I step away from her. “How—how—”

She smirks, getting to her feet. “I was very popular at parties. Useful bit of magic, isn’t it? Of course, no one liked being the subject of one of my tapestries, but they certainly had a laugh when it was someone else.”

She read my mind—my desires—through her weaving. “Explain how it works,” I demand. “Thoroughly.”

She arches an elegant brow, fiddling with her weaver’s needle. “No, I don’t think I will. Suffice it to say that what you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“I gathered.”

Princesa Tamaya taps her index finger against her chin. “I’d bet all of my good health you don’t know what the Estrella actually is.”

“Oh, I know,” I say softly. “It’s a weapon. Don’t forget that I’ve seen them.”

“And yet here you are, seeking the gem. Do you know who the ghosts are, Condesa?”

“No. What does it matter?”

“It matters because they’re Llacsan. Miners who were forced by your people to empty our mountain of its silver for four hundred years.” Her voice drops to a sorrowful whisper. “Men, women, and children died to satisfy the greed of the Illustrians wanting to line their pockets with the precious metal. It’s their souls that are trapped inside the Estrella. It’s our people you want to use, Condesa. Just like your ancestors before you.”

The ground seems to vanish beneath my feet, my stomach plummeting as horror sinks its talons into me. No one told me. But what’s worse, I never thought to ask about the gem’s origins.

“The Estrella is actually the reason I’m in here,” she says almost nonchalantly. “I tried to steal it.”

My jaw drops. Whatever I was expecting, it absolutely wasn’t that. “You tried to steal the Estrella? ?Por qué?”

Princesa Tamaya opens her mouth, but immediately stops. She tilts her head, her gaze narrowing, as if listening intently to something. I don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t stop her from marching to one of the covered windows. She must have done this before, because the wooden plank gives easily, swinging upward, allowing her to peer into the night.