Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(95)

I wound the sheet around my fingers. “How many died?”

“Lo siento,” he whispers. “Catalina told me to tell you, but I can’t—”

My voice goes flat. “How many.”

He ducks his head. “Fifty-two.”

Tears drip down my face. Rumi wipes them away and holds me as I cry. She’ll never understand what I’ve done. And because of that, she’ll never be able to forgive me for it either.

“Te amo, Ximena,” he says against my hair.

“Yo también.”

Rumi lets out a contented hum. His lips are soft against my skin.

I pull away and wipe my eyes. “Then what happened?”

“Umaq is gone,” Rumi says bitterly. “He left on a stolen horse with plenty of notas from Atoc’s treasury. I’m told he’s headed for the jungle.”

The Yanu Jungle? You’d have to be out of your mind to enter. “Why?”

Rumi shrugs. “Who cares? I never want to see him again. I’ll kill him if I do.”

“Whatever lies in the jungle will do that for you.”

“Dios, I hope so.” His voice becomes hushed, careful. “Now all that’s left is Catalina’s hearing. Tamaya insisted you be awake for it. Are you up for it today?”

I sink deeper into the pillow and shake my head. I can’t face her yet. “Ma?ana.”

“Whatever you want,” he says, his eyes soft.

“Will she be executed?” I ask in a quiet voice.

“I don’t know, amor. I really don’t know.”

He pulls me close, and this time I don’t ask for another distraction. I let myself cry.



I wake up in darkness, Rumi’s arm draped over my side. I shift to face him and trace my finger along his profile. Moonlight streams into the room, and I can just make out the strong planes of his face, the sharp curve of his jaw. I drag my thumb across his brow.

“Hmmm,” he mumbles. “Why are you awake?”

“Nightmare, I think,” I whisper. “We’re sleeping in the same bed.”

He cracks an eye open. “That’s what your nightmare was about?”

“No,” I murmur. “I think it was about Catalina.”

“I should have asked you if it was all right,” he says, yawning. “To sleep here, I mean.”

I smile in the dark. “It’s all right. A little shocking, maybe.”

“I’m your healer.” The sheet rustles as he leans forward to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. “What if you needed me?”

“Of course,” I say in a serious tone. “You’re being a professional.”

“Are you always this chatty in the middle of the night?”

“I’m worried about her,” I say. “Where is she? I know she’s awake. Catalina reads constellations whenever she can’t sleep.”

He sighs and rubs his eyes. “She’s on this floor.”

“Will you take me to her?”

Rumi sighs again. But he sits up and assists me out of bed. He hands me a robe and helps me put on my sandals. He takes my hand and leads me down the hallway, until we stop at the very end, where two guards stand watch.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” he mumbles sleepily. He squeezes my hand and sits on the floor, his back leaning against the stone.

“I need to talk to her.”

One of the guards nods. “Whatever you want.”

I take a deep breath and walk inside. Catalina stands on the balcony, her head tipped all the way back. Her index finger is raised and moving slightly, as if she’s tracing the faint lines between the stars.

“I thought you’d come,” she says.

I join her outside but stand by the door frame. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Would you change what you did?” she asks, her voice hard.

“No,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care that I hurt you. I wish I hadn’t.”

She keeps her back to me. “I’m not going to accept your apology, so you may as well leave, Ximena.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

“No,” she snaps.

I nod, swallowing hard. There is so much I want to tell her, but not if she doesn’t want to hear it. The words will be wasted. I want to talk with her, not at her. Turning, I take a step back into her bedroom.

Her voice rings out. “Wait.”

I spin, hope blooming in my chest.

She still hasn’t turned around. “Fine. Why?”

The hurt in her voice splinters my heart. I can’t live in Catalina’s world anymore—to go back to a time when Llacsans scraped by, barely surviving, when they were being pushed out of their homes, forced to live in the mountains as Illustrians stole the air they breathed and the earth they had walked upon for centuries.

How do I begin to explain all that?

“I asked you to abandon the revolt because Inkasisa needs a queen who will unite the people and bridge the divide. It doesn’t need more war or oppression, or mistreatment of anyone,” I continue, my hands splayed. “More lives will be lost if things continue in the same way as before. Mistakes will be repeated. There would eventually be another revolt—and this time against you.”