I sit up. “What do you mean ‘for the outing’? I’m not going.”
The maid ignores me and shakes out the creases of a night-colored skirt.
I scramble out of bed and stalk over to her. “I’m not going to La Ciudad.”
I can’t leave the castillo today—not with everyone else. Why does Atoc want me there anyway? He won’t notice my absence, not really. In response to my stubbornness, she grabs the cup of coffee and waves it under my nose.
“Why do I have to go on the outing?” I back away from the nearly overflowing cup. The last time I was forced to visit La Ciudad, my friend died. This could be another one of Atoc’s tricks.
“His Majesty’s orders are not for me to question. I have to get you dressed. Are you going to drink this or not?” She sets the cup on the dresser when I remain silent.
I sit on the bed and glare. “I’m not going to repeat myself.”
She pauses mid-fluff on the skirt and stares at me. Waiting, as if the answer is obvious. Anger sprouts like prickly weeds in my chest. He only wants to show off his prize. He wants to demonstrate his ownership. My skin itches as if an army of hormigas have bitten me.
“You realize if I don’t have you in a dress in ten minutes, I’ll get in trouble?”
I feel a second’s worth of sympathy, but I shove it away. I don’t want to feel anything for these Llacsans. They are my enemy. “Not my problem.”
She sighs. “Condesa.”
For another moment I waver. Then the guard opens the door and Juan Carlos bounds in, all high energy and smiling. “You’re not dressed? Everyone’s waiting. Put on something suitable.”
I open my mouth to argue and then shut it. What’s the point? If these Llacsans don’t get their way, they’ll never leave me alone. Maybe if I exhibit exemplary behavior, Atoc will allow me some liberties—like exploring the castillo with fewer guards.
“Fine,” I mutter.
The maid cheers and ushers Juan Carlos outside as he says, “Make sure to do something with her hair. It’s a fright.”
I throw him a peeved look.
“Nowthatonly makes it worse,” he says merrily before leaving.
She pushes a long rose-colored skirt and matching tunic into my hands. I dress and put on my boots. If I’m visiting El Mercado, I don’t want to be wearing sandals. The Llacsans let their animals run wild in La Ciudad. There’s no telling what I’ll accidentally step in.
“Rápido, rápido,” she says. “Here’s a faja to go with that outfit. I don’t have time to braid your hair. It will just have to be loose.”
A few minutes later I’m out the door, following Juan Carlos down the hall and out into the bright sunlit courtyard, where most of Atoc’s household waits in their finery. At my entrance, everyone turns and eyes my unbound hair; the other women wear theirs in elaborate braids and twists.
I joyfully wave as Rumi approaches, leading a mare.
“Dios,” he mutters. “Can’t you behave for at least an hour?”
I consider the question. “No, I can’t.”
He scowls, and I smile.
Atoc sits in an open carriage at the head of the procession, and his chamberlain whistles for everyone to mount their steeds. We travel to town in a single line.
La Ciudad Blanca. A city of white buildings glimmering gold in the sun’s rays. Of cobbled roads that twist and curve around square plazas, lined by arches. Of clay-tiled roofs and wooden doors etched with flowers. A city that bows to the snowcapped Qullqi Orqo Mountain looming before it.
A city overrun by Llacsans. I used to love it.
We arrive at the Plaza del Sol and despite my initial protests, a sense of freedom washes over me—however false. I’ll have to return to the castillo with everyone else. But for now I tip my head back and let the sun’s warmth kiss my cheeks. Atoc waves at the crowd of Llacsans gathered in the plaza. The same plaza where Ana disappeared into the earth.
My smile fades, and I trace the scars on my wrists.
“We’re supposed to walk around with His Radiance,” Rumi says. “He’ll want to go to El Mercado. They’ll have orange rinds dipped in dark chocolate waiting for him in his favorite shop.” Rumi jumps off his horse as the rest of court follows.
