His lips part in surprise. “Why does it matter?”
“I’m trying to understand … everything.”
Rumi studies me. “His Majesty can make any decision he wants. It’s his prerogative. Besides, they acted against the throne. It’s treason. If His Radiance didn’t check every offense, there’d be chaos and dissension.”
I smother the spark of annoyance rising within me. His reply comes out like polished marble. Not one scratch, and too smooth. Is he really so besotted with his king that he can’t see clearly? Especially after the Llacsans’ torture?
Of course not. He’s up to something.
“But he represents all of you,” I say. “Llacsans. I would—”
“Technically speaking, His Majesty representseveryonein Inkasisa. Not just the Llacsan half.” He frowns. “More than half, actually. If you count all of the different tribes in the Lowlands.”
“Who aren’t technically Llacsan,” I point out.
“But native to Inkasisa,” he challenges. “Peoples born and bred out of this land. Unlike you.”
“I was born here.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “But instead of coming to learn and live with the natives, you worked against us. Taking over and changing everything.”
Irritation shoots through me. “It was a long time ago—”
“You belong to the new Inkasisa,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “A way of life we were never invited to share. A way of life that damaged us. One where we were forced to work beneath you, rather than alongside. Your queen created misery but had the nerve to call it peace. The king wants to take things back to the way they were—before the Illustrian plague.”
I shift on the bench, angling away from him. A peculiar feeling of guilt washes over me. One that I try to quash. The treatment of the Llacsans disturbs me, but it isn’t as if my life has been easy either. Because of them, the revolt, the king’s earthquake, I lost my parents.
“What is it?” Rumi asks. “Let’s have it out. Whatever you’re thinking, I want to know. Otherwise …”
“Otherwise what?”
He shakes his head slightly, as if physically clearing his thoughts. “What I said obviously distressed you.”
“Of course it does. I’m not a monster,” I say. “It’s just … Sometimes I feel as if you’re trying to tell me my life is easy. And it’s not. After the revolt, I had no one for months. I lived under a doorway. Poor and hungry.”
“I’ve never assumed your life was easy, Condesa. What I’m saying is that it’s been easier thanmine.What was your life like before the revolt? Did you have a roof over your head? Did you ever go hungry? Were you allowed to go to the public school?”
I squirm. “Sí.”
“Yes, what?” he presses.
“Yes, I had a home,” I mutter. “I could go to school.”
“I did not,” he says. “Everyonewas affected by the revolt, but for Llacsans, this was ontopof living under a ruler who denied us institutional power. The only people who benefited under the former queen were the Illustrians. Growing up, you were free from oppression. I was not. This is why Inkasisa can never go back to the way it was before—forfour hundred years.”
His words sink in. He isn’t saying that I haven’t had to make sacrifices, but for centuries Llacsans suffered while Illustrians flourished. The revolt begins to make sense to me. Which only sends more questions whirring inside my head that I don’t want to answer. The biggest being: What does this mean for Catalina, whodoeswant to revert Inkasisa to the way things were?
What does it mean for me?
“Is that what you want, Condesa? To rule like your aunt?”
The truth nearly bursts from my lips.I’m not the condesa.I don’t want to speak for her. I want to have this discussion as Ximena. But that’s impossible. I need to turn the conversation away from me before I say something truly idiotic.
“Do you think that’s what El Lobo wants?”
Rumi shrugs. “I think one thing is very clear: He’s at odds with my king. That makes him an enemy to the throne.”
Yes, that much is clear. But El Lobo has also gifted what he’s stolen to the Llacsans. He definitely stands for something. Like the Llacsan journalists.
