Luna’s breath glides across my skin, raising the hair at the back of my neck.They’re coming.
“Manuel,” I whisper, fear searing my throat, stabbing my belly.
Four of them melt into view, surrounding us. They’re all bare chested, bodies turned pale white. Only the tips of their fingers are dark, their nails sharpened into lethal points. They carry bows and arrows, swords in sheaths. What’s left of their clothing is tattered and dirty. Their sinewy muscle is tense, holding back, but ready for violence—for death. Every one of them has Moonsight, lambent gazes staring with unguarded hunger. They’ve been blessed by our goddess.
Blessed—or cursed.
Black tattoos are etched across their bodies. It’s a language I know—constellations. I read the words carved into their flesh:Child. Gift. Blessing.
I press close to Manuel, my hand a death grip on his arm. Kusi slowly pulls Chaska to her feet, and she slumps against him.
Luna. What is this?
From the dense foliage comes another figure—a man covered from head to toe in an eggplant-purple robe. Long black hair sweeps past his shoulders, and in his bronze hands he holds a sword. He regards us coldly, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Drop your weapons.”
The pale creatures lift theirs, ready to unleash their hunger. We drop our spears and daggers, but I clench my telescope, refusing to let it go. He said weapons, and this isn’t one. My heart slams against my ribs, my arms trembling at my sides, completely useless. The man in the purple robe studies my companions, then his attention lands on Manuel and me.
“Illustrians.” A catlike grin stretches across his thin mouth. “Interesting.”
He snaps his fingers. One of the monsters removes an arrow from his pack and notches it in his bow. I’m frozen all over as the monster levels the weapon at my heart.
Manuel stiffens next to me, breathing softly. “What do you want with her?” His voice is unimaginably calm.
“Answers,” the man rasps out. “Step forward, girl.”
I glance at Manuel, who doesn’t take his eyes off the creature training his arrow on me. He gives me an imperceptible nod. But my feet remain rooted to the ground. The monster growls at me, his strong arm pulling back the bow.
“Catalina,” Manuel says.
The robed man’s gaze sharpens and latches onto mine. When his laughter cuts the air, I actually wince. It’s an awful, grating noise that makes every inch of my skin crawl. “Catalina? Catalina Quiroga?”
My jaw drops. “How do you know my name?”
“I know all about you.” He steps closer, and his eyes travel up and down my body, lingering on my dark hair, my face. “You two could have been twins,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.
I freeze. He can only mean one person—the girl who acted as my decoy for nearly my entire life. The idea of her being anywhere near this man sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t like the mean curve to his mouth, the anger hidden in his eyes. “You know Ximena?”
“We’ve met,” he says with a grim smile. “Imagine running into you here, of all places. What brings you?”
“I was banished to the jungle by the Llacsan queen.”
“And the Estrella?”
Shame eats at me. “I lost it to Ximena. It was destroyed.”
“A pity,” he says. “But there’s a small chance you might have some value. The daughter of nobility, a member of the royal family who ruled Inkasisa for centuries. I imagine you either have enemies or admirers. Come over here—I won’t hurt you.”
I blanch. Manuel steps in front of me, his calm veneer fracturing. The instant he does, there’s a whistle of wind and a sharp thud. Manuel hisses loudly, bending forward. I kneel beside him and gasp. An arrow pierces his right thigh, blood blooming from the wound.
Manuel shoots a quick look at me, his face contorted in pain:Hold it together. Don’t fall apart.
I straighten helplessly, my hand at the center of his back. Manuel reaches behind his leg and breaks the shaft close to the wound without so much as a whimper, and then throws it on the ground at the man’s feet, who appears pleased by Manuel’s defiance. His thin lips frame a cold smile, and fear squeezes my heart. I don’t like the way the robed man assesses Manuel, as if he were a prized warhorse.
“You’ll make a fine warrior.”
Manuel frowns as Kusi asks, “Who are you?”
The man considers the question. “I am a priest.”
