She sinks onto the bed. “Sorry, it makes me weary.”
“What does? Your magic?” I ask. “Do you always feel that way?”
She nods and points at the little bundle she’d brought with her. Inside is a towel and a bar of soap. “You should enjoy the bath while it lasts. I won’t be able to heat it a second time.”
I hold the bar up to my nose. Eucalyptus. I peel off my clothes and climb in, moaning in delight. My first hot bath in four weeks. Divine. A twinge of guilt mars my enjoyment. The Llacsans living in La Ciudad barely have any water.
“What did you think of the princesa?” Suyana asks.
I scrub my toes. “I liked her better than I thought I would.”
“I think most like her better than the king.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Do you?”
“It’s hard not to like the princesa. She’s vibrant and full of life. Consistently optimistic. She remembers everyone’s names. And I always liked how she asked about my mother. I was sad the day King Atoc locked the princesa up. Sad, but not surprised.” Suyana folds one of the towels. “She fought with the king over everything. His decisions, legislation. When she tried to talk him out of marrying you, he’d had enough, I think. It was the biggest fight they had, and it happened during court.”
“I see,” I say, accidentally dropping the soap. This cements what I thought: If she’d been queen instead of her brother, Inkasisa would have been all the better for it. “Did she have any friends in the castillo?”
“She has that way of making everyone feel like a friend,” she says. “But she’s particularly close to Rumi.”
“I think he’s in love with her.”
She frowns. “You think? But he’s so—”
“Smelly, I know!” I sit up in the tub. “What is that stench hovering around him like an angry swarm of bees?”
“He works in the infirmary,” Suyana says, giggling. “All manner of herbs and mushrooms are stored there. We’ve all tried to tell him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Of course not,” I mutter darkly. “Rumi’s accustomed to it. He’s so odd. And the way he acts during court! As if Atoc bled rainbows.”
“King Atoc,” she corrects. “Rumi’s always doted on His Radiance. We’re all used to it.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Mostly used to it,” she admits. “Some days he’s more ridiculous than others. Half the time I want to tell him to quit slouching.”
Laughing, I sink back into the tub.
Suyana stands. “Is there anything else you need for the night?”
“This was plenty. Gracias.”
“I hope whatever is bothering you leaves you alone enough for a good night’s rest.”
It’s only after she leaves that I realize the extent of what just happened. I enjoyed a hot bath because of her. At the expense of her own energy, too.
I’d made a friend without trying. Without manipulating or forcing it into existence.
I stay awake until midnight, unable to keep thoughts of Catalina and her reign from jumbling inside my head. The lizard is curled up on its favorite spot on the pillow, nestling close to my head. Both the jaguar and condor rest by the balcony doors. The llama has somehow managed to squish himself into the wool basket. The frogs never seem to stay still, constantly hopping from the bed, to the chair, and onto the dresser.
I’ve never had a pet before. And these odd, colorful creatures belong to me.
They slowly drift to sleep, lulled by the whistling wind fluttering the curtains, the stray dogs barking in the night. The lizard climbs onto my chest as by candlelight I read the book Rumi lent me. It’s not just a history of the Llacsans, but of the Illari and hundreds of other small tribes in the Lowlands. Inkasisa is home to thousands of indigenous people, and Illustrians came in four hundred years earlier and turned everything on its head.
Before us, they’d built fortresses and roads, had armies and used the stars to navigate.
The stars. We claimed the stars for our own.
