His dark brows pull into a frown. “Just my name is fine.”
I laugh nervously. “Do you have a title?”
“Oh. No. We have no titles here.” He tugs on the collar of his tunic. “Do you have a title you prefer? I haven’t somehow offended you, have I?”
“If I did have a preference, it doesn’t much matter anymore. My people aren’t here. I’ve lost our home. The only loyal subject I have left is Manuel, and he’s not really—” I break off with a rueful chuckle. “He’s loyal.”
If Sonco thinks my explanation is odd, he doesn’t show it. “Would you like to join me for the morning meal?”
“Yes, give me a moment.” I shut the door, walk over to the clay tureen, and splash water on my face. Then I grab a handful of mint leaves from a small bowl and quickly braid my hair. I smooth down my tunic and make sure the fringes are untangled. This is my moment to make a good impression. It never occurred to me that he’d seek out my company without attendants.
The Illari king makes space for me on the path, and together we walk side by side as the sky deepens to a rich blue with a smattering of thunderclouds brewing. The heat is ever present, and after a few moments sweat beads at my hairline.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be addressed by your title?” Sonco asks.
I let out a humorless laugh. Considering that my people are miles and miles away, living under the reign of a new queen, do I still have the right to be called by my birthright?
Arriving here might change that.
“In this moment, I have no other name besides the one given to me by my parents.”
“Then Catalina is acceptable?”
I nod as we slowly cross the bridge and pass the market. It’s bustling with people selling maracuyá, papaya, potatoes, and other produce. Someone plays a melody by slapping a hollowed-out log, the soft drumming adding the perfect backdrop to people gathering under the shaded areas in the main square. The city has several different levels, with big stone steps leading to each one.
“And where are your parents now?” Sonco continues.
“Long gone.” I wonder, at what age did that become easier to say? When did I stop crying through the night for them? I can’t even remember their faces anymore. That memory was taken from me too. I only remember Ana and her lessons and plans—the never-ending scheming. It’s what kept us alive all those years, stuck in that fortress, wanting our homes back. “What about your family?”
“A jaguar killed my father,” he says. “Mother died giving birth to Kusi. He and Chaska are my only family left.”
And I have no one. I watch as families cart their little ones on their backs, as mothers scold children and fathers smile with paternal pride—what my life could have been like, had I not lost my parents and the baby my mother carried.
Sonco studies me with a thoughtful air. “You carry sad memories.”
“Doesn’t everyone, if they live long enough?”
“True.”
I shoot him a quick glance. I’m struck by the stern lines of his profile: an unforgiving jaw, thin lips, proud brow. His unyielding expression softens around the children and the mothers carrying sacks of dried food, bundles of cloth. He’s handsome in an austere way. Sonco senses my assessment and meets my gaze.
“There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them, is there?” I ask.
“I’ve done my fair share to keep my people safe.” He hesitates. “Which is why I won’t change my mind about sending the army from Paititi.”
I stop. “This city will disappear once it’s found. The mountain will be mined, your people will lose their homes. I’ve seen what the Llacsans can do.”
“I can’t think of anything else until I figure out what’s happening to the jungle. That’s my immediate problem, not what might happen years from now.”
What rotten timing. If only this threat weren’t looming against their home. If there were something I could do to help them, maybe he’d reconsider. I don’t know where to start in terms of planning, but the memory of what happened to the Illari guards flares to life inside me—their sudden disappearances, their screaming.
What exactly is out there?
We reach the building where I met him before and step inside. I’m surprised to find plates and bowls of food stacked on a red-purple-and-navy mat. Fried yuca, roasted pork cut into thin juicy slabs, smashed jungle yams, and a salad of diced tomato and onion mixed with some kind of white cheese. Sonco motions for me to have a seat.
I suddenly remember that I’m supposed to convince this king that marrying me would benefit us both. But we’ve only just met, and I know nothing about him. The only tangible thing I can offer is my commitment to being a better seer. Is that enough for Sonco? I try not to think about how I’m a disgraced condesa without an army of her own and whose people are battered and recovering.
I also try not to think about how badly I want Sonco to refuse me again. The thought takes root in my heart, refusing to let go. If I’m denied, then I’m free to be with Manuel.
