Written in Starlight (Woven in Moonlight #2) - Isabel Ibanez Page 0,1
gaze and his coffee-colored eyes flicker to mine, assessing the curves of my face. His intent study of my features startles me until I realize what he’s doing. He’s searching for Ximena.
The friend who betrayed me.
We were like sisters, in appearance and friendship, if not in blood. I avert my gaze. He can look all he wants. He won’t find her in me. I’d never dishonor the memory of my parents, conspiring with our enemy to put a Llacsan princesa on the throne—instead of me, the rightful heir. I’d never turn against my people for a boy. I’d soon as take a knife to my heart. And I’d never hurt the one person I was closest to.
Best friends aren’t supposed to do that.
My voice scratches the air, hoarse from disuse. “Why’d you volunteer to escort me? Shouldn’t you be off on a harebrained adventure, dressed as El Lobo?”
This Llacsan was a popular vigilante who once drove Atoc, my enemy, mad with his antics. The discovery of his identity still sours my mood. I assumed, like all Illustrians, the vigilante was one of us. I thought he could be a friend to my cause. A brave hero to fight alongside my people. I was very wrong. I’ve been wrong about too many things.
He cuts me a look. “The days of El Lobo are over. No one needs a vigilante, not when we can all work toward peace.” His expression is pointed and loaded. “All you had to do was accept Princesa Tamaya as your queen. You and I both know she’s the better ruler.”
His judgment stings like the angry bite of a fire ant, and his words are flavored with my worst fears. I’m not enough. I’m not a leader worth following and not a queen people will love and respect. I swat away a fat mosquito, but another three replace it, buzzing loudly.
I grip the reins tighter. “I can’t.”
He’s already shaking his head, discarding my words as if they’re fruit rotted through. “You don’t know her like we do. She’ll—”
“You don’t know me either.”
A hint of a smile plays at his mouth. “Oh, I don’t know, Catalina. I think I know enough.”
He doesn’t use my official title: condesa, countess. “I hardly think whatever she”—there’s no reason to speak her name out loud—“told you is an accurate picture of my person.”
Rumi hesitates. “Maybe. It certainly was gracious.”
A guard behind us snorts loudly. Blood rushes to my cheeks. I turn away from the Llacsan and focus on remaining upright on the mule. We cross the tree line in single file. I’m somewhere in the middle, with three guards ahead and three at the tail. Rumi is directly behind me. The canopy overhead tangles together until not even a ray of moonlight escapes its snares. Twilight disappears and only the living dark remains.
“Luna,” I whisper to my diosa. “Where are you?”
But the jungle is skilled at blocking out the heavens.
The horses are skittish, neighing every so often, stomping against the hard earth. Ahead, the guards have lit torches and the firelight draws angry shadows against the prickly leaves surrounding us. It only illuminates a few yards into the dark depths of the forest. Past its glow, the jungle hides its sinister face.
The guard at the front of the line holds up a hand and we all come to a stop.
I frown and turn to peer over my shoulder. The tree line is still visible. Do they mean to leave me within sight of it? The pressure in my chest eases, and I almost laugh. This was the plan all along. It’s a scare tactic. That princesa never wanted me to actually die. Once they’re gone, I’ll head back, reach the nearest village, and—
“We walk from here,” one of the guards up front calls over his shoulder. “Too thick for the horses.”
My jaw clenches. Rumi softly laughs as he throws a leg over, sliding off his mare in one fluid motion. “You didn’t really think it’d be that easy, did you?”
“No,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing.
“Do you need help climbing down?”
Because he’s being polite, I’m compelled to answer in kind, even if it grates me. “I can manage. Gracias.” I hop off the mule. I gently pat her neck and she swerves, offering me her rump instead. Despite the danger, I smile and scratch her soft fur. “Are we stopping to rest?” I shake my head and use my most commanding voice. “I insist we stop to rest.”