I’ve never seen it unless made by Ximena, a byproduct of whenever she’d take to the loom and weave with strands of moonlight. A magical ability gifted to her by Luna—ourgoddess. How does this girl have access to moondust? Have they captured an Illustrian weaver?
Another thought blazes through my mind—scorching hot. Could Ximena be here in the jungle? But no. That’s impossible. She stayed behind in La Ciudad. We parted ways as enemies.
Manuel brings the fish over to the fire, along with his pan. When he sees the sparkling powder cupped in her hand, he pauses, and then his glowing gaze shoots to mine.
“How did you come by moondust?”
The woman ignores my questionagain, and I hiss out an impatient breath. When she throws the dust into her eyes, I gasp. Her dark eyes turn silver, gleaming from across the fire pit. She lifts her hand, her index finger pointed, and traces the sky. My blood runs cold. I’ve done the same gesture before. Hundreds of times. Every night, probably. It’s what I do when trying to read the stars.
She’s a seer. She has to be. But even as she surveys the heavens, my body refuses to accept the truth. Despite the heat coming from the fire, from the steaming jungle a few yards away, I shiver. I thought Luna only blessed Illustrians; I thought we were her chosen people. Set apart and gifted by her awesome powers.
But here’s an Illari reading Luna’s celestial message.
I reach into my pack with shaking hands. Pull out my dented telescope and peer up into the sky. My breaths are erratic pants. I don’t notice when Manuel hands me a slab of cooked fish on a leaf. Don’t notice when he hands me another bamboo cup. All I care about is what I can see though the narrow window of my scope. But Luna doesn’t speak clearly to me. The lines between the stars shift and fade, messy letters that don’t make sense or form any legible words. I lower the telescope, fighting tears.
The woman stares at me steadily, her eyes no longer silver.
“She hides from you,” she says. Then she picks up her fish and settles away from the fire, a few paces from the pair of us, the jaguar jumping to its feet and settling in the space between, an effective and deadly barrier.
“Try eating,” Manuel says softly from his place on the damp sand. “You might feel better.”
The fish is crisp in my mouth but tastes like ash. Manuel sits next to me, his leg pressing against mine. I glance at him in surprise, and he merely smiles. The Illari tracker catches the movement, and then turns away from both of us, finishing her meal in silence, every now and again feeding the jaguar bits of her food.
“Do you think she’s taking us to the bridge?” I whisper.
Manuel’s lips flatten. “I’m sure of it, but hopefully our experience will be better than the last time I attempted to cross.”
“What happened?”
His eyes flicker to mine. “My nose was broken.”
I make a gesture with my hand, signaling for him to continue. Manuel sets his plate and cup down. “It was two, maybe three months after I arrived in the jungle. I’d tracked one of them to the bridge.” His lips twist. “But it was a trap. I almost made it to the other side when arrows came flying from every direction. I turned around—got hit twice, and then fell forward and broke my nose on one of the wooden slats.”
I grip his arm. “How are you alive?”
“I fell into the water,” he whispers. “The current carried me away, and the Illari left me for dead. It’s not a memory I like to dwell on. Now do you see why I wanted to spare you before?”
Fear shoots an icy blade through my veins. “What if this is another trap?”
Manuel gazes at the tracker, considering. “It might be. While she sleeps, we can make our escape.”
The decision doesn’t come easily. Whatever happens, we have to cross that bridge. She’s offering to escort us, to take us right to the entrance. If we go alone, we might get shot, but if we accompany her, there’s a small chance they’ll let us cross.
“We go with her.”
Manuel nods, resigned.
We resume our study of the tracker, who pays no attention to us. She’s done eating, the jaguar regarding us with baleful eyes, and after a moment she resumes her study of the stars.
“Why does Luna speak to her and not to me?” I swat at a mosquito. “Why does she have moondust?”
“No sé, Catalina.” He eats his fish, every now and again turning to stare at the girl worshiping the moon. “But maybe if we pass this next test, we can ask what Luna thinks of our mission. She might offer you more guidance.”
I flinch and squeeze my eyes shut. I have loved Luna all of my life. For her ability to conquer the night, for the way she’s blessed every one of my people with gifts, small and big. She is constant and loyal and true. I reopen my eyes. The woman starts to hum, a soft smile bending her lips, her chin pointed upward, and the moonlight kisses her cheeks.
When I look down at my dirty clothes and hands, every part of me is tucked in shadow.
CAPÍTULO
