“Because I’m an Illustrian?”
She frowns. “Because you’re going to be his wife.”
I have to force myself from shuddering. I finish with breakfast and hand her the tray. “I’ll drown them with compliments.”
Suyana smiles and takes the tray.
Three seamstresses prod me into a short-sleeved red-and-white dress. Patterns of golden thread are stitched onto the thick belt. The full, ruffled skirt swishes around my ankles as I shift on my feet. Something in my pocket moves.
While the women busy themselves with cutting more fabric, I glance inside and almost cry out in surprise. My stupid lizard has snuck into my pocket. It would have been funny if there weren’t three Llacsans hovering close by. I frown at the creature, urging him to be silent.
“Condesa, step over here,” says one of the seamstresses.
I carefully climb onto the step that sits in front of a full-length mirror. I stare at the girl in the reflection. She’s thinner than I remember, with pronounced cheekbones and collarbones, dark smudges under her eyes. The dress cinches at the waist. Catalina would approve.
I look unhappy, this side of gaunt, and no amount of pretty fabric can hide the panic curling around my edges like wisps of fog hovering over Lago Yaku. I don’t recognize myself. Even my hands are soft from the lack of training. The muscles I’d worked so hard to sculpt. The mirror shows the person I resemble the most, and it’s not me.
I look like Catalina.
Disappointment sucks me down into a quicksand of self-loathing. I’m only a copy of someone else. Just a decoy. I’m not really her. I’m not me. I don’t know who I am or where I belong, if anywhere at all.
“You’ll wear a woolen pom-pom necklace in blues and purples. I’m working on the headdress tonight. I’m sorry it’s not ready for you to try on, but it’ll be in the same colors as the poms.”
“It’s fine.” I study the dress again, and I’m unable to stop the corners of my lips turning downward.
“Condesa, don’t you like it?” one of the women asks, hesitant and careful.
“What’s not to like?” I ask lightly. “It’s beautiful.”
The seamstress’s shoulders sag with relief. “That’s wonderful, because His Majesty—”
The door snaps open and Atoc storms inside with his many attendants. My mouth goes dry. I try to step down from the mirror, but he stops me by holding up his hand.
“Quédate.” He loops around, slow like a condor hunting its prey. Goose bumps crawl across my skin. Atoc scowls as he studies the dress—every ruffle, every stitch. The impulse to run makes my feet twitch. I want to examine him in turn, see how he likes being regarded as a prized horse.
The women huddle off into the corner. For their sake, I force a smile.
“Isn’t it lovely?” I ask.
He doesn’t bother responding, but circles once more. He stops in front of me. “Lower the neckline,” he says curtly.
I jerk my head down—the neckline is right under my chin. Exactly where I want it. “Absolutely not.”
This time I get a foot down but Atoc grips my waist and hoists me back on the step. He glances at me with frank interest, heat in his gaze. “The sooner you learn who you answer to, the better your life will be. Stop fighting me.”
“You may have everyone else bending to do your will, but I’m not some creature you can control.”
His face turns to iron, hardening and immobile like the impenetrable wall of the Illustrian fortress. “Leave us.”
The seamstresses scurry away without a look in my direction. I want to call out, but I keep silent. This day was long coming. I knew that, at some point, he’d get me alone and his first move would be to put me thoroughly in my place.
My skin turns to ice, but I pull my shoulders back. I’m not going to let him scare me. I summon the fire I felt when I first arrived, before I’d lost Sofía and Ana. “I am the last royal in all of Inkasisa—”
A fist slams my belly. The hit is strong and fierce and for seconds I’m left in stunned silence. I topple off the stairs and end up on the floor, the stone scraping against the skin of my elbow. The lizard moves, its tiny claws scratching against the folds of my skirt, wanting to get out. I push my hand inside my pocket, forcing it still.
Atoc stares at me in fury. “I’ve told you, don’t interrupt me.”
I get to my feet, my knees buckling. We stare at each other for a long moment, my rage simmering, barely contained. I use it to lock away my terror until all that’s left is my desire for justice.
