“You don’t make demands,” the girl says. She speaks the old language of the Llacsans and Lowlanders. I have some knowledge of their tongue. Hopefully my accent won’t offend anyone.
She stands alone and without a weapon in her hands. Rays of sunlight cast parts of her body in a bright glow. She’s younger than I originally thought. Perhaps a touch older than Manuel. Her bare arms are smooth, deeply tanned, and toned. A bow is strapped to her bag, and even from where I’m standing, I catch sight of feathered arrows kept in a leather pouch.
I place a soft hand on Manuel’s arm, tight and strained, ready for action. “Calm,” I whisper into his ear.
The woman takes another step.
Manuel growls at her. I tighten my hold, my fingers digging into his skin. This is what I want—a chance to talk with them. Space to have a conversation, present my case. I’m about to open my mouth when a dark shape materializes behind her, crouched low. The shape draws closer and my heart kicks.
A spotted jaguar.
This is why she’s not unnerved by Manuel’s steel. Or his growls, for that matter. She has a beast at her side. Hunched under her fingertips, ready to pounce, to sink its knife-tipped teeth into our throats.
“I mean you no harm,” I say in Quechua. “I wish to speak to your village leader regarding an urgent matter.”
She tilts her head, once again drawing closer, the big cat climbing the steps. “Why have you come into our jungle?”
I move out from Manuel’s shadow. He shoots me a quick look. “I need help against an adversary.”
Her face shutters. “We are not interested in war.” She turns away.
I rush after her. “Espera! Wait!”
The jaguar lunges for me, teeth first. Manuel yanks me back, and I’m saved by mere inches.
The woman snaps a command—I can’t make sense of it over the roar of my heart. The jaguar snarls but backs down, settling onto his haunches, his lambent gaze on mine, tracking every breath, every move.
“Por favor, I’ve been looking for you. For the Illari.”
“We do not want to be found.”
“I know,” I continue. “And I can understand. I’ve been kept a secret for most of my life.”
“You’re a secret?”
I nod. “Por favor.Don’t leave, and hear what I have to say.”
“I have been waiting a week for you to leave the temple. I’m impatient to go home.”
“Aweek?” I turn around and look at the building, as if it will somehow lessen my confusion. “That can’t be right; we were only in there for a day.”
“A week,” she repeats. “What do you wish to tell me?”
“Perdón,” I say, switching to Castellano. “But I still don’t understand.”
She sighs. The woman continues in Quechua, but she clearly understands the language of Inkasisa. “Time is a funny thing in that building. I couldn’t believe you chose to run into that one when there are others.”
I gasp. Our exhaustion makes sense. Our bodies went a week without food or water. No wonder we had trouble focusing.
“We were in danger,” Manuel says in perfect Quechua. I nearly jump from surprise. But of course he’d know the language—traveling around for three years from one corner of Inkasisa to the other. What had I thought? That he was on vacation?
I shake my head. My mind can’t move past the notion that we lost an entire week inside the temple. What’s happening with my people back in La Ciudad? Maybe they’ve forgotten me, or worse, believe I’ve given up on them?
“I need help. There’s a powerful threat in my home city—the same threat that drove your people into the jungle all those years ago. I’m begging you to take me to Paititi.”
She’s as still and remote as the trees surrounding us. But something I’ve said has arrested her attention. The subtle narrowing of her gaze—eyes that glow amber gold in the sunlight. Her fingers clench on the tufts of hair atop the jaguar’s head. “You have a choice before you,” she says at last. “Head back the way you’ve come, and you may live. Continue, and risk death.”
I glance at Manuel, panicked. If I don’t keep going, if I don’t keep trying, what does that say about me? My people will live under another Llacsan. Another enemy. My family will never be avenged.
