“Permission?”I ask.
In the years since the revolt, not one Llacsan has ever asked permission to enter the Illustrian stronghold. They’ve demanded entry, or Atoc’s priest has tried to cross over with his blood magic, hoping to force an unsuspecting Illustrian to show him the way.
“Condesa, what do you want to do?” Sofía asks.
I open my mouth to reply before realizing she isn’t talking to me.
Sofía is looking at Catalina.
My jaw tightens. I don’t make the decisions. I simply uphold them. Catalina’s voice is the loudest I hear in my head, governing what I think and sometimes even what I feel. I understand the role I play down to my bones, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. I want to be heard too. Sometimes, when my temper gets the best of me, I’m secretly pleased. That’s the real me breaking through the mask.
Catalina’s hands tug at the corner of the blanket. “Has your mother come back yet?”
Sofía’s eyes darken. “Not yet.”
I frown. This is bad. Really, really bad.
“No word from Manuel?” Catalina asks in a hopeful tone.
Sofía shakes her head. “My brother hasn’t written in months.”
“This is ridiculous. We need to send people to look for her—forthem,” I say. “How many went with her?”
“Four. I already gave the order to send out a search team.” Sofía runs a hand through her dark hair in a gesture that mimics her mother.
“All right.” Catalina takes in a deep breath. Her fingers drop the edges of the blanket, and she sits up straighter. Her voice doesn’t waver as she speaks. “Take their weapons. Let them over the bridge. We’ll hear their message, and when Ana returns, we’ll decide what to do next.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. A million things could go wrong. We’ve never let a Llacsan across the bridge. What if it’s a trap?
“I want to hear that message.” Catalina raises her eyebrow at Sofía. “Better to know what Atoc wants, right?”
Sofía nods. “There’s more of us than there are of them. I think it’s what my mother would do.”
Catalina’s expression clears at the mention of Ana. “See to it, then.”
Sofía leaves at a full tilt and without a backward glance.
The idea of talking to the Llacsans twists my stomach. If the roles were reversed, Atoc would turn us away at the castillo gates. Or worse. Many Illustrian spies have perished in his dungeons. Death by hunger, loneliness, and darkness. No message is worth the risk of bringing them across.
But the condesa ordered it.
“Pick out what you want me to wear,” I say. “Nothing too frilly.”
“I wish I could meet with the messenger.”
I consider pricking the condesa with one of her hairpins. “And unravel years of careful planning? I’m your decoy.”
As soon as the words are out in the open, a flicker of unease sweeps over me. Itisdangerous. That’s true for her, but also true for me.
Catalina folds her arms across her chest. Deep down she knows every precaution matters. When the Llacsans overran La Ciudad, the usurper ordered a search for the last Illustrian royal that stretched the whole of Inkasisa. But by then Ana—captain of the Queen’s Guard—had locked Catalina inside the fortress, hidden from prying eyes, Llacsan and Illustrian alike. Back then, Ana didn’t trust anyone. We were all too desperate.
Anger courses through my veins. Atoc murdered Catalina’s aunt—the Illustrian queen—along with my parents, by creating a powerful earthquake that destroyed the Illustrian neighborhoods of La Ciudad. Then he’d used the Estrella to summonghostswho’d gone on a rampage. Illustrians died by the thousands, screaming, begging, helpless. The horror of the massacre hasn’t dulled with time.
I want the condesa on the throne. I’ll doanythingto make it happen—fight, steal, lie, or kill. I’m not above it. Not if it ensures Catalina’s future. Not if it brings me that much closer to the life I want, which involves something far different from pretending to be the condesa and swinging around my blade during training. I want to weave tapestries, learn how to cook, and explore Inkasisa.
Only Atoc stands in the way.
Catalina studies me, her head slightly tilted. “You look like you’re about to kill someone.”
