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.
And the only thing I had left was a forbidden kiss between a condesa and her guard, behind a tree while everyone else danced through the night. How many times did I think about that evening? Replayed a conversation I’d overheard between Ana and Manuel, just a day before he left? Perhaps thousands. Even now, the words come unbidden.
We’re all counting on you, she had said. Never forget who you are, and why you’re fighting.
She sounded stern, though her expression was anything but. Manuel reached for her, hugging her tightly. She’d bitten her lip so hard I thought she might draw blood. I didn’t realize she’d been saying goodbye to her son.
The memory is a cruel one, because I know what happens next. Manuel left early the next morning and Ana never saw her son again. She was captured and killed by the Llacsan king Atoc in a public execution in the middle of the main plaza. Ximena didn’t do a thing to stop it.
Suddenly I’m terrified by the questions Manuel’s bound to ask. I don’t want to tell him about his family and how every one of them died; I don’t want to hurt him that way. I don’t want him to know how everyone deserted me. I’ve failed him and it’s my fault.
I trusted the wrong people.
Manuel lifts a branch after carefully examining it. I wonder if he’s ever felt the same horrible sting from the plant I’d touched. I want to ask, but the jungle is a thief and it steals all of my breaths. I’ve never been so thirsty in my entire life, and no matter how much rainwater I catch in my mouth, it never seems to be enough. Manuel hands me a big palm leaf filled with water and I drink from it greedily.
We continue the climb down, heading for a narrow riverbed that winds outward into the jungle. At last Luna becomes visible amid swollen dark clouds hanging low in the sky. A constant hum of croaking frogs reverberates around us, accompanied by buzzing locusts. Graceful branches arch over the river while fireflies dance overhead, looking like fairies in the mist. We reach the bottom and Manuel leads us along the bank, eyes scanning the area.
The mist creates a moonbow that hovers above the surface of the flowing stream. I wipe raindrops from my eyes and smile. Parts of the jungle are truly breathtaking.
Manuel stops abruptly.
“We cross here,” he says. “Watch where you step. Stingrays like to hide in the shallows, and a single prick will kill you if you’re unlucky enough to disturb one.”
My smile fades. Damn this jungle.
He takes my hand. We cross slowly and carefully, and the water is cool and clear, reaching almost to my knees. It feels delicious against my heated skin. I step on something smooth and slippery and let out a shriek. “I think I touched a stingray!”
Manuel doesn’t turn around. “Nope. Just a rock.”
“How do you know?”
“You wouldn’t be alive if you’d stepped on one.”
Oh.
He gently tugs me across. We reach the other side and he helps me find firmer ground as we move up and away from the river. My boots are sodden, and my poor feet are in a worse state. Pinched and cramped, the balls of them are sore and bruised. But the pain coming from my back is overwhelming, stinging and raw.
Manuel points upward. “Our destination.”
I follow the length of his finger. Nestled above the tree line is a small cave situated near the top of a vertical wall made of sheer granite. An expanse that stretches higher than the tallest tower of the Illustrian fortress. We’re mere specks against its great height. Ants considering an elephant. One miscalculation with the rope, and we’ll plummet to our deaths.
“Hilarious,” I say. “Where are we really going?”
Manuel continues to point to the cave, his expression infinitely patient, as if I were a child and not a rational being pointing out the dangers of climbing impossible heights. “Who are you right now?”
He quirks a dark brow and then drops his hand.
“Even with a rope, it’s too risky.”
“Don’t be silly, Catalina,” Manuel says calmly. “We’ll be climbing without one.”
My jaw drops, but he merely marches toward the wall. With quivering steps, I follow in his wake, my gaze latching onto the immense slab of rock, illuminated in cold moonlight. The stone is smooth and polished, but even so, I can’t help feeling as if the face of it salutes me with a sinister smile.
CAPÍTULO
Cinco
I scramble after Manuel, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. My feet ache and sting—I must have blisters. He hacks off branches and makes a clear path for me to follow after his brisk pace. He doesn’t look back, as if he knows the current expression I’m wearing on my face.
Utter dismay. Shock. Terror.
When I finally catch up to him, I get a better glimpse of the rock wall. It’s an odyssey of cracks and grooves, some gaping, but most barely a fist wide. I look higher and there’s a smattering of ledges that appear to be the width of shoes meant for children. My eyes strain in the dim light to catch sight of every possible way up, but there aren’t that many footholds.
“Can we talk about this?” I ask. “I mean, logically, I physically cannot climb this wall. Even without my injured back, this is impossible. I’d rather face another jaguar.”
Manuel frowns, turning me around. His quiet gasp makes my stomach lurch. He uses gentle fingers to part my tunic where it’s sticking to dried blood. I wince as some of the cloth refuses to budge.
“How bad is it?” I ask. I can tell he’s trying to hide his concern, because he’s not quite successful. That deep line appears between his brows.
“Bad,” he says, his voice grim. “Come on.”
He leads us back the way we came and down to the river, motioning for me to kneel beside it. Manuel looks to the left and then to the right. Satisfied the coast is clear, he squats next to me and proceeds to cup water into his hands, then gently washes the areas around my wound. It doesn’t matter how soft his touch is—tears drip down my cheeks.