Labyrinth Lost (Brooklyn Brujas #1)(49)

“We are exiles,” he whispers.

“Oh.” I bite my lip, searching for something to say. Then, because my brain seems to be on delay, I settle for, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He takes a small drink. The red liquid stains his lips. “It was long ago. We refused to bow to a vicious king, and so we left. These lands have changed over time, and our meadow grows smaller. But it is the only home we have. We’ve been here so long that I don’t consider myself as coming from the Kingdom of Adas but from here. Don’t you think it important to have a land to call your own?”

“I think so. My mother’s family were run out of their lands in Spain and fled to Mexico. My dad’s ancestors were African slaves in Ecuador. They went to Panama and then Puerto Rico. Somehow, my blood comes from all over the world and settled in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is my home.”

“Brook-lin,” Agosto says. “I rather like that word.”

I laugh wholeheartedly, right from my belly. It’s such a good feeling that I can’t remember why I don’t let myself do it more often.

“It’s so beautiful here.” I tilt my face to the light. I start to feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I’m not sure what. I realize my goblet is empty and I’m a little disappointed. But when I blink, it’s full again.

“You say you’re traveling to the mountains?” Agosto asks. “I should warn you. There are nasty giants in those parts. Oh, and do avoid the Laguna Roja, unless you can breathe underwater. Los Lagos might be home to me, but all places have their dangers.”

“Is the labyrinth dangerous?” I ask.

A sad smile tugs at his lips. He leans into his seat, a throne suited for the Meadow King. “No good can come from that place.”

“Have you been there?” My heart shoots up to my throat.

“Long ago.” Agosto takes his goblet and drinks deep. His lips are stained purple. “I was searching for someone. But the labyrinth has a way of taking you in and never letting go. It is a dark place, a damned place. I find it’s better to stay here, in the meadow, where I can always find the light.”

“What if you didn’t have a choice?” I press on. “What if you had to go back?”

The faun king laughs heartily. I love the sound of it. “Eat, now. You must be famished.”

I am hungry. Who knows when we’ll have food again on the rest of our journey? But there’s something wrong about the roasted chicken in front of me—the skin is perfectly crispy. The potatoes are soft and smothered in rosemary and sea salt. It’s just the way I like it. But when I lean forward, I don’t smell the rich spices.

I smell dirt.

The magic within me stirs. I press my hand over my racing heart. I’ve used more magic since we arrived than I have my whole life. I can feel my power getting restless, as if it had a taste of freedom and it won’t be caged again.

“Your power is calling to the meadow,” Agosto says.

How does he know that? “Do you have magic?”

He turns his head from side to side. “Once. It was taken from me.”

“By who?”

“My brother, the Bastard King of Adas. The last great thing I could do for my people was find them a new home.” He pats my hand gently with his. “There’s so much I wish I could do for them still—so much I’m willing to do.”

I take Agosto’s hand and squeeze. I can’t imagine that an immortal being such as him needs the comfort of a girl like me, but I know his pain. The feeling stirs inside of me until I start to feel like I’ll come undone.

“Excuse me,” I say, standing from the table.

“Wait.” Agosto takes my hand in his. Despite his calluses and scars, his touch is surprisingly soft. For a moment, I pretend he’s someone else. I look down the table, and the thought startles me so that I pull away.

“I’m just getting a little warm in the sun,” I assure him.

He kisses the back of my hand. “Don’t go too far. It isn’t safe out there.”

The sound of a snake hissing follows me as I walk away. When I turn around, Rodriga is leaning over Agosto’s arm, vying for his attention. She waves her arms in the air, but all he does is look into his wine goblet.

I start to walk down the table to Nova, but he’s on his second steak, and I’ve already forgotten what I wanted to ask him. Where are my thoughts going? It’s like Rishi said. They fell out of her head.

I walk to the edge of the meadow to find some shade. My stomach contracts painfully. I sit down and hit my head against the bark of the tree. Can it be that I’ve resisted my magic for so long that I simply just can’t recognize the difference between a stomachache and my own power?

“Lula,” I say. “I really need you to come back.”

It isn’t Lula who appears. It’s my mother. Right in the middle of the field. Her hair is still haloed by bright-red flowers that match her lips. Her white dress is stained with dirt.

I jump up to my feet. I need to run to her. I need her to forgive me. Need her to tell me I’m going the right way. I need my mom.

Just like Lula’s apparition, my mom flickers. Unlike Lula, she doesn’t stay. I run to her open arms but a shadow appears behind her. I can hear her shout my name once before she vanishes. My shaking hands close around air, and I can feel the magic pounding up from the pit of my belly. That’s my magic.