The spirit doesn’t howl or slow down but yanks out my knife and raises it high. I quickly scour the ground for another weapon. The blade of a sword winks up at me, buried under a maimed body.
“Look out!” Tamaya yells from behind me.
I push at the fallen Llacsan, desperate for that weapon. The ghost reaches me. Its cloying scent assaults my nose. Rotten bones buried in mud and dirt for hundreds of years. A decaying carcass given the gift of hate and violence and life. It pulls me upright by my hair. I try to wrench free, but my attacker holds on and drags me away from the sword.
There’s murder in its glowing eyes. I scream as its knife angles toward my heart.
A blur rushes at the ghost. The grip on my hair lessens and I kick and claw away from the spirit. Juan Carlos stands above me, his weapon swinging. I drag myself to the sword, still hidden underneath the dead Llacsan. I shove the body away and grip the hilt.
When I stand, it’s in time to see the spirit slice Juan Carlos’s throat.
My chest burns as I let out a guttural yell. My friend slumps to the ground, his eyes unblinking as his life’s blood gushes from his neck.
Tamaya drops to her knees, attempting to stop the bleeding with her clothes. She’s sobbing, keening. Her hands are stained red from Juan Carlos’s slashed flesh.
Time slows. Sweat drips from my hairline, stinging my eyes. My veins are hot liquid. The clamor of the fight dims. Everyone is shouting, but I can’t hear any of it. I can’t tear my gaze away from his vacant gaze.
Juan Carlos is gone.
The ghost turns to the kneeling princesa and raises the bloody knife.
“Tamaya,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Get up.”
She slowly stands and once again I push her behind me.
The ghost advances.
And then, just over its shoulder, I see her. She comes into my line of sight as if she’s always been there. She wears no cape, her head uncovered, loose hair running down her back. The Estrella isn’t visible. She grips a sword in her right hand. It’s much too heavy for her.
Catalina.
I tip my head back and scream with everything left in me. “Condesa!”
She whips around, sees the ghost’s intent. “Don’t hurt her!”
It immediately quits its advancement.
Tamaya comes to stand next to me, slack-jawed as Llacsans continue to get killed. Catalina’s gaze flickers between mine and Tamaya’s, her eyes wide and confused. I catch the moment when Catalina realizes whose side I’m on. She clutches her chest as if I’ve stabbed her heart.
And in a way, I have.
Traitor. Rat.
I stumble toward the condesa, Tamaya at my heels. Illustrian fighters circle us, forming a protective barrier against the onslaught. I know each of them by name. I’ve trained and slept and lived alongside them at the keep. And now they follow Catalina—the real royal. Their friend. I was nothing to them. Nothing but a stand-in, a fake.
My hands are sticky with blood. I manage to latch onto her arms. “Call them off! Catalina, do it!”
She jerks back.“What?”
“Look around you!” I scream. “This isn’t you—stop them.”
“You sent me the location!” Her voice quavers. “I got your message. This is what you wanted …”
“I killed Atoc.” I squeeze her arms as I search for the gem. She’s not wearing it, but I know it must be somewhere on her. “No one else has to die. Give me the Estrella—we have to destroy it.”
“Destroy it?”She looks at the princesa, disappointment carved into her features. “Is this abouther?You still want her on the throne?”
“She’s not your enemy.”
