When I’m close to the top, he hooks his hands under my armpits and pulls me out the rest of the way. He underestimates my size, because we topple forward, him onto his back and me crashing against his chest. His wide-brimmed hat flounces off, revealing his face, his softly glowing eyes. Twin fires against rich olive skin. A chill skips down my spine as my mouth goes dry.
Iknowhim.
The man squints up at me and then gasps.“Catalina?”
I blink at him, feeling his chest rise and fall underneath me. My hands are on either side of his head. He has black wavy hair that reaches his shoulders. Dark eyebrows shaped in surprise are set over a pair of brown eyes, fringed by even darker lashes. His nose is broken—that’s new—and a rough beard hides the bottom half of his face, but I’d recognize him anywhere. It’s been years, though.
My heart does an odd flip. Even after all this time.
“Manuel,” I whisper.
My former general’s only son. A ranger and scout for the Illustrian throne. I frown. He’s wearing black clothing, not our traditional white. A leather vest is set over a long-sleeved shirt, and there’s a machete poking out from behind his back, attached by a leather strap that crisscrosses his chest. His leather boots ride up to mid-calf, and the only thing that remotely looks Illustrian is a pendant hanging from his neck.
A silver crescent moon his mother gave him on his seventeenth birthday three years ago.
“What are you doing here?” He clutches my arms and hauls us both to our feet. Then he starts shaking me. “What’s happened? You look like you’ve fought in a battle.”
Which is entirely correct. I open my mouth to say so, but a laugh escapes instead. Suddenly I’m giddy with relief. My skin flushes, growing warmer. I’m not alone in this jungle. I’m not going to die. More laughter erupts and Manuel frowns at me.
“Catalina.” He shakes me again, but I can’t stop the giggling. Tears stream down my face. My giggles turn to gut-wrenching sobs. “What’s wrong with—”
He breaks off with a low curse, staring at something over my shoulder. I turn and stiffen.
A tall girl is staring at us. She’s outfitted in various shades of green, from her wide-leg pants to the black-and-white checked tunic covering her powerfully built frame. A circlet of gold sits on her dark hair. She’s carrying a slingshot in one hand. There’s a small pouch attached to her leather belt, I’m guessing filled with polished stones.
“We have to move,” Manuel whispers. “Ahora. Right now.”
But the girl vanishes into the jungle, tucking herself behind the tree and out of sight. It happens so fast, for a moment I think I must have imagined her.
“Who was that?” I try to take a step forward, but Manuel places a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“An Illari tracker,” he says grimly, still staring at the spot where she disappeared.
I gasp. “She’sIllari? You mean they actually exist in here?”
“Yes, and where there’s one, several more will follow. She’s been hunting me for days.” He removes his hand from my shoulder. His voice drops to a whisper. “Follow me. You can tell me what in diablos is going on when we get to safety.”
“Is there such a thing in this place?”
His lips quirk.
Again, my heart does that odd flip.
Manuel uses his machete to hack through the jungle. He doesn’t hesitate where to strike, or where to step and what to touch, seeing clearly in the dark. He has Moonsight, a gift from Luna, the ability to never get lost at night. As a little girl, I watched him from the Illustrian tower. Out at night, doing various tasks. He comes alive when the sun goes down. We have that in common.
Manuel half turns, one eyebrow raised, his eyes illuminated in their soft, warm glow.
“I’m all right,” I say. I don’t mention my wounds. There’s nothing he can do about them right now anyway, what with the Illari tracking us.
He nods and faces forward again, hacking at jungle foliage. I let myself smile. He was always protective, even when we were children. I have so many questions—and I know he must feel the same, but neither of us talks again. I personally can’t, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. It’s the dead of night, and I’m having a hard time remaining upright, let alone searching for menacing vines. My skin feels feverish and clammy, and black dots dance across my vision.
We’re descending around the cliff I almost ran into earlier. My back feels raw, stinging sharply with each of my steps. Damn that jungle cat. Every now and again, Manuel helps me navigate the shifting, jagged rocks. Callouses cover his palms. Overhead, the night sky turns cloudy and gray, dripping rain and mist onto my head. Manuel tips his head back and catches raindrops in his mouth. The line of his neck looks strong, connecting to a softly rounded jawline all but hidden by his dark stubble.
I turn away to hide my blush.
I can still remember the day he left, a few days after his birthday. My general—Ana—had given him the little money she had, a machete that belonged to his father, and a small bag of provisions. Whatever we could spare. We’d celebrated that whole day, not that we had much in the way of food. But we’d played music and danced around a roaring fire. And then he’d pulled me behind a tree, away from prying eyes, and kissed me. It was the best night of my life.
Three days later he was gone.
