My guards approach and I quickly step away from the throne. I crave fresh air, the chance to breathe in the eucalyptus trees surrounding the castillo. Madre de Luna, I want to bealone.I miss training. Miss swinging a sword.
“How do I get to the gardens?” I ask.
“We go with you,” the guard says in a stern tone.
That wasn’t my question. Annoyed, I open my mouth to repeat myself—
“I’ll take her.”
My face falls. I smell him before I see him. Slowly, I turn to face Rumi. His arms are folded, his lips turned down in a pronounced scowl.
Whatever it is I’ve done, it seems he wants to talk about it sooner rather than later. Not how I wanted to spend the last scrap of daylight.
“Fine,” I snap. “But I just wanted a place to—”
“Don’t care,” he interrupts, and ushers me to a side door that opens up to a long hallway. Numerous clay pots clutter the stone floor. I have to skip and weave around giant stacks of them.
He pulls me along until we reach another set of double doors. Using his shoulder, he pushes one open. Outside, the smell of the eucalyptus trees kisses my cheeks. It’s a pleasant scent that masks the odorous healer. Warm air gently sways through the trees’ leaves. I squint, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the last fighting glare of the sun before it meets the horizon. Everything always seems sweeter in the minutes before darkness descends.
I inhale deeply. “Honey and mint.”
Rumi glances down at me. Even slouching, he’s really quite tall, unlike most Llacsans. I half worry I’ll develop an ache from tilting my head back just so I can read his eyes. Surprise flickers in them.
“The trees,” I explain.
He scowls and pulls me to a stone bench. I lean backward and look up at him, steeling myself against his oncoming assault.
“All right, Llacsan, let me have it.”
His body goes rigid. “You were supposed to give the tapestry to the king.”
That’s why he’s upset? Someone ought to tell this boy to grow a thicker skin.
“I bet he has thousands,” I say. “Why aren’t you pleased? A Llacsan—one of your own—has something valuable from the future queen of Inkasisa. Isn’t receiving a tapestry a great honor?”
“It would be, coming from aLlacsan,” he says in a deceptively calm voice. “Tell me something, Condesa. Do you have any idea how insulting it is for you to sit on that throne, preening like a peacock, showing off your weaving? You were meant to present it to King Atocprivately.Not flaunt your own skill.”
“I—” My voice breaks off. I didn’t do that. I wanted to give my message to the vendor. That’s all I cared about. There was absolutely no preening.
I don’t think. Damn it. Did Ipreen?
“You were the one who suggested I give it to Atoc—”
“KingAtoc. Gods, show respect.”
“As I was saying,it was your idea to give the tapestry as a gift.”
“No. It was Juan Carlos’s.”
I roll my eyes. “Semantics. You went along with it, and now you’re mad about it?”
“I didn’t think you’d put on a show,” Rumi fumes. “Have you ever given a gift before? It’s about the receiver, you intolerable fool. This was supposed to be for him—not you.”
I flinch.
“Weaving is our skill; it’sLlacsan.For you to claim it as your own and act like it’s the best thing ever made …por Dios.” His voice rises with each word. Then it pitches higher, as if imitating me. “Why don’t you take it, you poor Llacsan? In fact, why don’t I provide all of your wares for you? Because I’m an Illustrian, I’m better at everything, even something your people have been doing for centuries. And you’re—”
I jump to my feet, pushing him back. “You never should have brought it down!” He almost ruined everything. Thank Luna I had the wherewithal to think of a way for that message to be sent out. “Atoc asked me about it! What was I supposed to do? Ignore him? That would have gone well.”
