“There was someone, but I was never in love,” he says finally. “That was the problem. I needed access to a tribe in the Tierra Baja, and I used her connection to their leader. She figured it out, but by then the damage was done. I’d broken her heart.”
“I hope you apologized.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You didn’t tell her you were sorry you used her?”
“No.” He seems confused by my question and my outrage. “Because Iwasn’tsorry. I could not fail my mission. I’d do it all over again if it meant there was a chance to gain an ally against Atoc.” He hesitates. “She’s a sweet girl, and I’m confident there’ll be someone else who deserves her.”
His tone doesn’t sound like himself. There’s a current of regret hidden under each vowel. Almost wistful.
“But it bothers you all the same,” I say quietly. “To have used someone like that.”
“No. I told you—” He breaks off at my raised eyebrow. Then his lips tighten as he dips his chin a fraction of an inch.
“It bothers me too,” I say. “The people who have worked so hard to put me on the throne. We’ve lost so many over the years. It never gets easier. I want to take care of them all, but I keep asking them to risk their lives.”
He reaches for my hand, but then changes his mind and drops his palm so it rests flat against the stone. “You’re worth it.”
I think about Ximena, and how she changed sides. She would have rather supported my enemies than see me on the throne. “It’s hard to believe sometimes.”
“Most of the good things are,” he says, and his voice is kind and warm, like the softest tunic against my skin. “Try to hold on to them when you hear them.”
“Did you ever find any allies?”
His mouth twists. “No one wanted to openly move against the king. Too afraid, or too far removed from La Ciudad. They remembered the earthquake.”
The earthquake. Atoc’s Pacha magic, the ability to shake the ground beneath our feet. He destroyed whole sections of the city. Hundreds died. And as if that weren’t enough, he found an enchanted gem that had the ability to call up ghosts.
Warriors who didn’t bleed.
I’d held that weapon in my hands. Victory had been in my hands—literally. I’d even called up the ghosts.
Then Idroppedit.
Manuel studies me carefully. “Did any of those boys hurt you?”
I make a face. “Of course not. I was only curious.” And maybe it’s because we’re stuck in here without a clear way out, and the possibility of starving looms larger with every passing minute, I decide to venture close to the line he’s drawn between us. The one that’s meant to keep me acting appropriately. “All the other boys flocked over, but you kept your distance.”
“I’m surprised you noticed,” he says, and he sounds almost amused. “There always were a few of them surrounding you. Even when they ought to have been practicing.”
“Were you jealous?” I tease.
“Perhaps,” he says coolly. “Perhaps not.”
My heart flips. I want to provoke him. Flap the unflappable Manuel. Find hidden treasures in his conversation. Sentences I could hold up to the light and marvel at every word. But I stay silent and fight to respect his wishes and not bring up something he’d rather not talk or think about. I force my attention back to the chamber and the three pillars topped by the three statues.
“We might die in here.”
He’s angry now. “You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”
“I might, Manuel, and there won’t be anything you can do about it.”
A long moment passes, the both of us glowering at each other. Then he lurches to his feet. “The hell you will. Come on. The answer is here somewhere.”
I hold up both hands, and he reluctantly helps me to my feet. He walks to the closest pillar. Once again, I walk around all three columns, this time studying the statues and the carvings along the sides.
This is merely a puzzle, a kind of riddle.
