“You took mine off!”
“I didn’t actually think you’d let me.”
This is going to be harder than I thought. Talking to a spitting llama would be easier. “I told you I want to help you move against Atoc.”
“Why?”
I glance away. It’s hard lying to him. This man saved all of the prisoners locked in the dungeon when he didn’t have to. “We want the same thing. You don’t want him sitting on the throne any more than I do.”
“And who do I want sitting there? You?”
I detect nothing from his reply. Not a single note that leans toward support or contempt. I grind my teeth in frustration. I never did find out if he’s a Llacsan or Illustrian—he’s saved both. Maybe he’s mixed, like Juan Carlos. There are many working in the castillo and living in La Ciudad.
“We don’t have to answer that question tonight,” I say. “What we both want is Atoc’s removal. Can we agree on that?”
He nods.
Finally. Progress.
“If you tell me your plans,” I say, “I might be able to help you.”
I’m waiting for him to bring up the princesa and her role in all of this. I want to know about the Estrella; I want to know why she’d steal it. There’s so much uncertainty, and I’m sick of fumbling in the dark.
He laughs softly. “Do you think I’d reveal my secrets to any pretty maid who asks?”
“And do you think it was easy for me to let you take off my mask?”
His laughter vanishes. “I don’t know. Was it?”
The boy speaks in riddles! Does that mean he’s on to my ruse? That he thinks I’m merely acting? If he can see through me, then I’m in trouble. Luna take me, what am I going to do? He’s impossible to read, impossible to navigate. I turn away, my eyes resting on the map and its marked locations. I need his name. Hundreds of lives depend on it.
I jerk my chin toward the back wall and strive for a nonchalant tone. “What do you think the pins mean? Places to launch an attack?”
He stands next to me in front of the desk, and we stare at the map. Our shoulders graze. At his touch, an unaccustomed flutter passes through me, faint and unsettling. His height reminds me of Juan Carlos. Or Rumi.
He could be either of them.
El Lobo turns his head and peers at me. “They’re all the places Atoc has hidden the Estrella. I’ve checked every one but have come up empty.”
I blink, hardly daring to believe my ears. “What did you say?”
“I don’t like repeating myself, Condesa.”
A cold shudder slides down my spine, and my mouth feels like I’ve swallowed spoonfuls of dry dirt. It’s the feeling that comes moments before I lose a fight. “You’re saying these marked places are useless.”
“If you visited any of them, you’d find nothing left. Atoc burns the area to the ground after he’s used the spot. He’s become paranoid and rotates the location of the Estrella every so often—I haven’t been able to pinpoint how often it’s on the move.”
My shoulders slump. Even if my parrot has reached the Illustrian keep, the message doesn’t contain any useful information. I clench my jaw to keep myself from muttering a curse. I’ve failed Catalina. This entire time, I thought—I believed—the Estrella was within my grasp.
Maybe he’s lying … But no. His tone holds no malice, or any hint of deceit. His words are direct and laid bare for me to decide what to think of them. My gut tells me he’s being honest.
Even so, it’d be foolish to take him at his word. Despite what he may think, I’m not a complete idiot. I’ll have to ask him a question I know the answer to and see how he responds.
“All right, Lobo. Who tried to steal the Estrella?”
He slowly shakes his head, amused. “Because I’m in such a good mood, I’ll tell you, nosy. It was Princesa Tamaya. Her antics against her brother are a fairly new development.”
And look where it got her. Served on a platter to their sun god. “How new?”
