Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(80)

El Lobo digs an index finger into the folds of the sloth’s woolly skin. “Why me?”

He knows why. Because I care about our friendship, however tenuous and fleeting it may be. I care about his opinion of me. And a small part of me knows that he cares just as much as I do. I count him as a friend. One of the few I have inside this castillo. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Despite everything, he laughs. “You’re not one to be coy, are you?”

We settle onto the bed, and the creatures follow. The entire surface is covered with woolly tails, paws, wings, and a hissing tongue. They blend in with one another until it becomes too hard to discern which animal is which. Except for the sloth, who remains in El Lobo’s arms.

“I’m supposed to be convincing you why our plan is the best for Inkasisa,” he says softly. “But here I am, covered in all of this, and thinking you’re not what I expected.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Do you regret showing me your secret?”

When it comes to my enemies, I’ve tried to avoid thinking about what we have in common. I haven’t wanted to see them as friends with families they want to protect and cherish. But now I’ve seen all those things in Suyana and Rumi and Juan Carlos. They’ve become friends, people whose company I enjoy. Even look forward to.

“No, I don’t.”

El Lobo sits up, gently removing my animals. There’s a new light in his eyes, as if he’s decided something.

He holds out his hand. “Come with me.”

A chance to leave the castillo? There’s really nothing to think about. I ask him to turn away so I can change into my darker clothing. When I’m finished, he turns back around and pulls an extra black mask from his pocket.

My mouth drops open and he shrugs, almost sheepish. “I brought it in case …”

“In case you thought I could be trusted?”

“Oh, I don’t know that.” He blows out a quiet breath, and I almost don’t hear his next words. “But I want to.”

My blood races warmer in my veins as I take the mask. The intimate way he’s gazing at me is hard to ignore. I slip the disguise over my head. “Ready.”

“Where’s the sword I gave you?”

I grab it from beneath my pillow and tuck it under my belt. “At some point, I’d like mine returned. They took all of my weapons when I got here. Luna knows where they are now.”

“What bastards.”

I laugh. “Where are we going?”

El Lobo motions for me to follow. “You’ll see.”

I shut the doors behind me. We climb down the same way I did the night I visited the king’s office. A literal jump to the balcony below mine, and then again. Forcing myself not to look down, I keep up with El Lobo. When we reach the ground, he leads me straight to the gardens. I spot the sentry at the gate, standing beneath a blazing torch. El Lobo jerks his head to the right, past the iron entrance, and we venture deeper into the garden, until we get to the very back corner. Hidden behind toborochi trees, their trunks wide and thick, are overturned crates. The corners of the gate are tall, square-shaped stone towers.

“Do what I do,” El Lobo whispers.

He steps onto the tallest crate, then uses the brick on the gate to climb to the top of the wall, using his feet to hoist himself into a sitting position on the stone.

“Your turn,” he calls down softly into the night.

The wind sends a shudder of movement through the branches. The low hum of insects rings steadily in my ears. The gate is at least ten feet high. Waving away a mosquito, I step onto the crate and reach for the crossbar. My fingertips barely graze the iron.

El Lobo reaches down and grasps my hand. He keeps one foot on the iron gate as leverage and then pulls me up. I’m able to get my left foot on the crossbar, and with his help I’m hauled onto the flat surface.

“No time to admire the view,” he whispers as he points out another sentry. We scoot along the flat surface of the wall and turn the opposite way. El Lobo jumps first, and I follow. He catches me around the waist and sets me gently down onto my toes.

“There has to be a better method to sneak out of the castillo,” I say, panting from the climb and subsequent jump.

He chuckles warmly. “I’m open to suggestions.”

I speed after him. Crossing the cobbled street, turning right, down three blocks and then to the left. With every step I take away from the castillo, the heavy weight on my shoulders lessens.

Freedom. It hits me every single time I leave.

I recognize streets and alleys, shops and taverns. The city belongs to the Llacsans, and he takes me deeper into one of their poorer neighborhoods, the bumpy road dark and crooked. He stops once we reach a courtyard lined by stone arches. None of it looks familiar. In the center are overgrown bushes and tall palm trees. El Lobo takes my hand and leads me to the darkest corner of the square.

“I’m about to do something incredibly stupid,” he whispers.

His words don’t penetrate at first. But then realization hits and I’m aware that something’s changed between us. He’s come to a decision—a decision that might hurt him. My hands are shaking. “Lobo.”

He drops my hand, reaches for his mask, and hesitates. I understand his unease—I feel it too. Part of me wants to learn the truth, and the other half is terrified of what I’ll do with the information. Knowing his identity will bring us closer, and I crave the intimacy like a bird yearns for flight. I want his trust, I want his friendship, even though it means his ruination.