The priest stops Manuel, who straightens. Chaska lies moaning on the ground, clutching her chest. Blood seeps through her fingers. I rush to her side, dropping to my knees. Several puncture wounds mar her chest where Manuel dug in his sharp fingernails. Her face is ashen, her eyes screwed shut in pain.
“Chaska,” I plead, lifting the hem of her shirt to stanch the flow of blood. “Don’t die, don’t die.”
My gut twists, acid coating my tongue. When the priest looks over at me, my stomach clenches painfully. He crooks his finger, and Rumi drags me before the priest.
“Your turn, Condesa.” He bares his teeth. “Don’t you dare lie to me. Ifeelyour blood, the pulse in your neck. I will know if you speak false.”
Shame builds, nearly smothering. There’s no course left, no one to turn to. I don’t have the slightest idea on how to get to Paititi, but if I don’t say something, the priest will have Manuel finish off Chaska and Kusi. If I lie, he’ll do the same.
“Paititi is hidden behind a waterfall,” I say at last.
The priest locks his jaw. “Do you think I’m a fool? There arethousandsof waterfalls in this jungle.”
Manuel approaches from behind, then stands beside me, his gaze intent on his master. He looks almost the same—if not for his bone-white skin dotted with inky constellations, and fingers that looked like they’ve been dipped in soot.
I blink. Something presses close, hovering as if riding on the air I breathe—the smallest, most desperate whisper, the level of leaves rustling on a shy gust of wind. I shut my eyes and inhale deeply.
There.
Luna’s silver touch kisses my cheek. Tickles my ear and tousles the wisps of hair at my temples. She swirls around me, a feathery touch, wanting my attention. Begging me to notice her.
I do.
She murmurs secrets into my ear. Her voice grows louder as she tells me what I need to know: of things that happened long ago. Names and places. I am drowning in information. Picturing a priest in a castle hiding behind a false name. He lived among the Llacsans, pretended to befriend them. When I reopen my eyes, I know what to do. Adrenaline pulses in my blood. Spikes my heart rate like a fever. The priest stares at me, his head tilted to the side. “What’s your magic, Condesa?”
For the first time in hours I have a reason to smile. “I am a seer, Umaq.”
He blinks at the sound of his name. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Luna,” I say. “And she isn’t happy with you.”
“You lie,” he says stiffly, but fear claims his face. Deep grooves march across his forehead, and the corners of his mouth tighten. A long silence follows. I don’t dare drop my gaze to the crushed killasisa petals in his palm. Luna once again whispers in my ear. Her words settle into my belly, fortifying me for what’s to come.
Consume. Consume. Consume.
He raises his hand as if to throttle me, but I can’t let him use his magic. I glance toward Kusi, who’s ready to pounce should I distract the priest enough to loosen his hold. Then I glance at Manuel—I wish I’d put the truth together sooner.
“What else did she say?”
I ball my hands into fists. “You will die a painful death at the hands of your enemy.” He pales, and I wait a long beat. “You will not survive me, Umaq.”
He steps back, his jaw slack and his gaze as wide as twin moons on his face.
Kusi leaps to his feet—
Umaq raises his free hand, but I’m already moving toward him. He stops Kusi in his tracks, but I slip close enough to wrench a single petal from his grasp. He lets out a cry of surprise, too dumbfounded to do anything but stare as I swallow it whole. The magic tastes sweet on my tongue, like a crisp morning scented by gardenia and water rushing over polished rocks. And then it transforms into something else entirely—shimmering and silver.
I taste the stars.
Bubbly and sharp, the feeling spreads to every inch of my skin. I am filled with rays of moonlight, a majestic power, the light that always conquers shadows. Everyone steps away from me—the priest, Kusi, and the monsters.
I am Luna, and she is me.
CAPÍTULO
Treinta y cinco
I feel Luna’s presence in every corner of my body, and her quiet power makes me tremble. Magic zips down my spine, shoots sparks from my fingertips. My skin becomes pale, my vision sharper. Her wisdom and generosity infiltrate my soul; her love for humanity coats every inhale and exhale. She becomes stronger, and I struggle to hold on to myself. There’s a whisper of fear present in the back of my mind: I’m scared to disappear—what if I never come back?
