Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(77)

Murals of Princesa Tamaya decorate the walls, each collecting an assortment of wildflowers in honor of Atoc’s imprisoned sister. Now that I’ve seen her, I can attest the murals depict her accurately.

A movement draws my attention. The tail end of a woolly anaconda snakes around the feet of unsuspecting vendors. I squint, and the creature must sense my gaze because it stops and peers up at me through silvery eyes—my moon thread.

It followed me to La Ciudad! With something like a cheeky expression on its woven face, it slithers into the shadows, vanishing without a trace. What on earth is it doing all the way out here?

“Condesa?” Juan Carlos asks.

I shake my head. “Sorry, I thought something fell from a stall.”

He resumes his careful study of the plaza, looking for potential threats. I study the plaza too, suspicion flaring. Sure enough, my animals are scattered all around. Frogs hopping in and out of pots. Lizard on a windowsill, enjoying the bright sun. Jaguar weaving throughout the crowd, silent, and the llama spitting woolly balls at unsuspecting shoppers.

When they catch me staring, they slink into the darkness, almost sulky, and vanish completely out of sight. But I still feel their presence. Ever watchful.

We approach the salte?a stall. Juan Carlos turns to me, eyebrows lifting. “How many are you going to devour? Your appetite is legendary in the castillo.”

Something catches my eye, through the long line of people waiting to buy the savory pastry, past the other stalls selling choripán—a figure waiting in the shadows, hiding underneath a wide-brimmed hat and colorful Llacsan clothing.

Catalina.

She nods from across the gulf between us, then disappears into the alley next to the shop.

I return my attention to Juan Carlos. “Dos, por favor.”

“Only two?” he scoffs. “You’ll regret it. I’m buying you four.”

When it’s our turn to order, Juan Carlos marches to the seller and I make my move. As he’s asking for eight salte?as, all spicy, I take a small step backward. Then another. The chatter swirling around us rises and I melt into the crowd, embracing the long arms of La Ciudad, disappearing so fully, I’m sure even the other guards who’ve been silently tailing us are thrown when I vanish.

Catalina sees me at the mouth of the alley and hurtles into my arms, the hat flying off her head. I latch onto her.

“You’re here,” she says, her face flushed. “You’re really here. When I got your message, I couldn’t believe it. Flying birds, Ximena?”

I shiver at the sound of my name. “I don’t have much time. There’s a guard—well, several—and—” My voice breaks. Now that I’m seeing her, the expression of relief on her face, gazing at me in adoration, I find the words I need to say are lodged at the back of my throat, unwilling to shatter the bright moment of seeing her, my friend. My condesa.

“What is it?” Catalina asks. She grips my arms. “I know about Ana. I’ve had spies planted in the city ever since you left. I know you were there, and”—she shrugs helplessly—“that you couldn’t do anything to save her.”

I take a step away. There’s a hint of accusation in her tone, or maybe it’s a question. As if she needed to hear from me that saving Ana wasn’t possible. A flutter of unease passes through me. “Atoc was never going to release her. The messenger I killed was his cousin.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” she asks.

I shake my head.

Catalina stares at me, at the space I created between us. “Why isn’t Sofía with you?”

“Gone,” I whisper.

She sags against the alley wall. “When?”

“That first day.”

Her voice cracks. “We have to tell Manuel.”

“Has he sent word?”

Both hands cover her face as her shoulders start trembling. Her reply comes out mumbled. I almost don’t hear it. “There’s been nothing.”

“Catalina,” I whisper. Her hands drop to her sides. “I want to tell you—I want to ask you—something. I wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t crucial.”

Her tears carve silvery tracks down her cheeks. She takes a fortifying breath and then nods.

The moment has come, and my throat feels dry. “This is so important, and if I don’t get the words right, any hope of peace might be gone.”

“Peace?”

I tell her about Princesa Tamaya. About her plan to destroy the Estrella, about her intentions of uniting Llacsans and Illustrians with the hope of a stronger Inkasisa. I tell her about the lives we could save if she relinquished her designs for the throne. If she walked away from the rebellion we’ve been planning for most of our lives.

As I talk, her face becomes leached of all color. She’s using the wall to keep upright, her hands gripping the stone. I skip telling her of the friends I’ve made within the castillo. I bypass all mention of Rumi, of Suyana, and present the argument as coolly and objectively as I can.

But she breaks down anyway. Sobs wreck her body. I reach for her, but she shoves me away.

“You want me to forget about what I’ve lost?” Catalina whispers. “Ignore the horror of what happened to our families? Everyone I loved has left me. They’ve even turned you against me, and I have no one.”