I nod. It’s just like him to not mention how hard it must have been hearing my marriage proposal to Sonco. Manuel will put me first, in all things. That thought should comfort me, but it only makes me sad. I’m finally understanding how marriage to the Illari leader will help me carry out my plan to save Illustrians. So far, it’s the best option.
“What do you need from me?” he asks.
Tell me I’m not a failure. That I’ll find some other way to convince the Illari leader.
But I say none of those things. I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll only cry in front of all these people. So I shrug. Manuel doesn’t say another word, only allows his knee to brush against my leg. I stare at that point of contact. Here sits one of my own, witnessing my failure, desperation, and inexperience. What kind of queen will I make if I can’t secure allies? If I can’t provide for my people or help them in a meaningful way? This was my chance to prove that my voice is strong enough to be heard.
But I wasn’t loud enough.
The door opens and people carrying trays of food deliver everything into the middle of the circle. My mouth waters. Clay bowls are filled with pan-fried yuca, boiled potatoes, blended greens, roasted pig with crispy skin, and plátanos maduros drizzled with honey.
All of it looks delicious. None of it seems appetizing.
I can’t think of eating with them, not when I must wear my disappointment on my face. When someone tries to hand me a glass of jugo made of sweetened lime, I refuse to take it. Manuel grasps the drink and gives it to me, saying my thanks for me.
“You need to have something,” he murmurs. “I know you’re upset, but you haven’t eaten anything substantial in weeks.”
I manage a nod. We’re given a plate with generous portions and enough juice to wash everything down. Once we’re done eating, Sonco stands, and everyone else follows suit. He inclines his head toward me again, then leaves with his attendants at his heels. Only Manuel and Chaska remain.
“Regarding tomorrow, you have two options,” she says to him. “You can train with our warriors, or join us for a tour of Paititi.”
Manuel doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll train.”
Though I’m surprised, I don’t let my face show it. What happened to wanting to remain close? Does this mean he no longer considers the Illari a danger to me? He leaves without a glance in my direction, as if compensating for his attempts to comfort me.
Chaska places her hands on her hips. “Now that we’re alone, I can see if I can fix it.”
“Fix what?”
“Your magic. There’s something wrong with it.”
CAPÍTULO
Veintitres
All I can think about is my recent failure, but I have no time to think about how to convince Sonco, because Chaska leads me to another building, also white and round, and brings me inside. She shuts the wooden door behind her, and for a second I wonder if I ought to be nervous. My eyes adjust to the dim room.
A clear line of demarcation divides the chamber in half. On one side, the walls are painted the deepest hue of blue. Hammered gold plates cut into stars of varying sizes decorate nearly every square inch, save for the space designated for Luna, whose face wears a cryptic smile. On the other side, the room is painted a softer blue. In the center hangs a golden sun with rays that stretch from the ceiling to the floor. It’s also made of gold.
From one end of the floor to the other are beautifully rendered flowers, ranging in shades of orange to lavender, with vibrant green stems and leaves. This entire place is a work of art. I slowly turn to face Chaska, really seeing her for the first time. Her full lips are stretched into a soft knowing smirk, black hair loose and swirling around her toned shoulders. Her tunic is the color of a red apple, with golden geometric shapes stitched across her chest.
“Did you paint this?” I ask.
She nods.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“Gracias … Catalina.”
I smile as I step toward Luna’s side, marveling at the beautiful constellations. The shapes make words in my mind, jumbled and confusing. I shake my head to clear my confusion, and I bite my lip. Even in a mural, Luna hides her voice from me.
“Can you read what it says?” Chaska asks.
I flush to the roots of my hair.
Her next words come out as a hush, the level of rustling leaves against stone. “You can’t, can you?”
I stiffen. “Is this another trial? Another test?”
