The walls of the tunnel are just as craggy and uneven as the cave we left behind. But there are roots and plants covering most of the rock, and warm, muggy air clings to my skin. We keep walking, Manuel ahead, lighting the way forward with his Luna-blessed sight. I push myself to match his long-legged stride. Which is a mistake—my body is inexplicably weak. As if I’ve been hungry and sick for days and days.
“I wonder how long we have before the poison kills us.”
He looks at me in alarm. “Have you gotten worse?”
I consider his question. “I haven’t, actually. I feel the same as when I woke up.”
“I think if we were poisoned, we’d steadily get worse.” He pulls back the sleeve of his tunic. “None of the bites are infected or swollen.”
I wrinkle my nose. “So then what could it be?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “The jungle has all kinds of magic in its veins, Condesa.”
“But this building is man-made.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be affected.”
“Well, say it is the building. What magic is at work? What’s making us sick?”
He runs his fingers along the wall. “There might be something in the air. But it’s definitely magic. It doesn’t make sense that we’d both be feeling this poorly after one night.”
I shoot him a sidelong glance. “You know I wouldn’t have survived the swim without you, right?”
“It’s my job,” he says, but the words are softened by a small smile that deepens the lines at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and tucks a long strand of wet hair behind my ear. My heart stutters. “Condesa, about what I said—”
I abruptly stop walking and hold up my hand. “Wait. You shared how you felt, and I think I deserve the right to speak my piece. For you to hear it without retreating. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
He hesitates, but then nods.
“I don’t know what the future holds or if we’ll ever make it to Paititi. But until we do, I’d like us to be who we are. We might die in the jungle and this might be the only time we’ll have together. It seems a shame to waste it when we both know what we clearly want.”
He studies me, quietly considering.
I clear my throat. “Well? What do you think?”
After a second of deliberation, Manuel holds out his hand. I can’t stop my grin from reaching ear to ear. We resume walking, and I swing his arm playfully. He glances at our clasped fingers, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s agreed to.
But he doesn’t let go.
At last we reach the cave opening. I walk out of the tunnel, letting out an immense sigh of relief. I immediately drag in a lungful of warm air. The sun is out, peeking through the tangle of leaves overhead. We’re a few feet from the cavern entrance when Manuel stiffens beside me and drops my hand.
I look around. “What is it?”
He doesn’t register my question, just stares straight ahead. I follow the line of his gaze.
A lone woman stands at the base of an enormous tree trunk, dressed in forest-green pants and a black-and-white checked tunic.
The Illari tracker.
CAPÍTULO
Quince
Manuel unsheathes his machete and steps in front of me. I peer over his shoulder, my body rooted to the spot, as if I’ve suddenly become one of the oak trees surrounding the tunnel entrance.
The girl dismisses my companionandhis blade, and she has the temerity to move a single step closer. Her hair is bound in a single black braid, and it swings over her shoulder, curving around her skin like a snake. She has wide-set eyes, and a dusting of freckles peppers her high cheekbones. She’s taller than the woman we saw earlier with the butterflies.
“Not one more step,” Manuel snarls, raising his weapon.
