It’s narrow, with no room overhead to stand upright. There’s a single bedroll, along with a small pack—I recognize it as the one he’d left the Illustrian keep with. A pair of stone bowls are stacked against the curved wall, next to a pile of avocados, oranges, and figs. As hungry as I am, I can’t make myself reach for the food.
“Why were you limping?”
I blink at him. “Was I?”
“I’ve never seen you this way,” he says softly. “What’s happened to you?”
The cave doesn’t shield us from the jungle’s steady roar. Monkeys howling, louder and worse than a thunderstorm. Frogs and owls and insects that croak, hoot, and buzz every second. None of this feels real.
I lift the hem of my tattered tunic. “You’ve never seen me in what way?”
I know what I must look like. But his words sink into my flesh like claws. Because he doesn’t mention what’s wrong with my appearance on the outside. He finds the part of me that’s broken, hidden deep.
“I’ve never seen you look so defeated.” He leans forward and taps the top of my leather boot. “Take off your shoes and socks.”
I stare down at my feet. Pain shoots up from the tips of my toes. “I’m not used to all the walking. That’s why I was limping.”
“Take them off,” he says in a harder voice.
The blisters on my fingers make it hard to untie the leather laces. My vision blurs, and no amount of blinking makes my eyesight clearer. Exhaustion drags my eyelids down. Manuel scoots closer and gently pushes my fingers away from my shoes.
“Let me do this.” He gently tugs the boots and drenched socks off, and then, with the same gentle touch, lifts my right foot onto his knee. I survey the damage through my watery gaze. Blisters mar the tops of every single toe and the bottom heel. Same on the left foot. He reaches for a bowl filled with a poultice, then brushes a thin amount onto each foot.
“You need rest,” he says grimly. “Lots of it.”
Manuel unrolls the slim bedding and gently helps me lie down on my stomach. He rubs the same mixture onto my back, peeling the fabric away with hesitant fingers. “You’re burning up.”
“I feel like I’m on fire.”
He continues running his palms across my wounded back. The medicine feels cool. I want to roll around in it naked.
“Better?”
“Sí. Gracias,” I whisper. “I still can’t believe—”
“Silencio. Descansa.”
“Don’t leave me.” My voice drops to a soft hush. “No me dejes.”
Don’t leave me like you once did, without word. Without a goodbye.
I never hear his response. My eyes shut, and I fall asleep.
CAPÍTULO
Seis
I wake to the sight of Manuel studying me. He’s propped against the curved wall, a bowl of mashed avocados in his lap. His hat is off, and I realize my head is using it as a pillow. I’m lying on my stomach, cool air brushing against my exposed back. I try to push myself up, but my arms are weak and not working properly.
“Easy,” he says softly. “You’ve been out for two days.”
My eyes widen. “¿Dos días?”
He nods once, his lips tight.
Everything comes back in an instant. Arriving to the jungle, my escorts—Rumi the vigilante—the infernal jaguar, the rock wall.
Manuel.
“Where have you been?” I ask. “Three years without word.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I sent word.”
I shut my eyes, realizing my mistake. Of course he wrote—to his mother. Never anything personal to me. Again, I tell myself, why would he? He’s probably forgotten all about the kiss. I don’t say anything; I’ve already been behaving like a besotted fool and I don’t want to pile it on.
Manuel wasn’t easy like the other boys back at the Illustrian camp. Earning smiles from them took nothing. Kisses were even easier. This scout, this ranger of the Illustrian throne, doesn’t hand out his grins to just anyone.
Or his kisses, for that matter. I’d never once heard of him kissing anyone else except me. Why can’t I stop thinking about that night? He’s certainly never going to bring it up.
“Here’s what’s going to happen next,” he says. “I’m going to feed you, and you’re going to eat what you can. And then we’re going to talk. I’ve been sitting here, imagining the worst, and I can’t take not knowing anymore.”
He scoots closer, bringing the stone bowl with him.
Manuel coaxes me into a sitting position. He gently lifts a bowl filled with water to my dry, cracked lips. I gulp it loudly, wanting every last drop, but Manuel firmly keeps me from drinking all of it. I reach for the container, but he shakes his head. “Despacio.”
“But I’m so thirsty.”
“I know,” he says. “You’ll get more. Slowly.”
I cross my arms and eye the bowl.
“Let’s try some food.” Using a wooden spoon—which he probably whittled himself—he feeds me a few bites of the mashed avocado.
My stomach roars to life.
“Not that I’m not thankful,” I say in between chewing. “But do you have anything heartier than avocado?”
He smiles. My heart flutters once, twice, and I tell it to behave. It’s just a smile. Manuel turns to a small fire pit, where a rabbit is propped, ready to be eaten. He cuts small chunks and drops them into the bowl. Silently, he hands everything over to me. He probably realizes that if I’m asking for a heavier meal, then I can feed myself.
He waits patiently, watching me eat, and I’m so hungry, I don’t care if I’ve gotten any of the food on my face or in my hair, which has long since escaped its braid and hangs in a frizzy mess down my shoulders. I must look a sight.
When I’m finished, he takes the bowl and spoon from my hands, and lets me have more water. “Do you want to lie down again?”
I shake my head. Outside, it’s raining still, the clouds heavy and dark. Thunder sounds off in the distance. “Any monsters come calling?”
“No visitors, unless you count the vultures.”
“Vultures?”
He nods. “An enormous flock of them flew past, heading to where I found you. Turkey, yellow-heads, and even a few king vultures. They were excited, fighting among themselves, nearly tearing one another apart to get to whatever was dead on the ground. From the size of the flock, I’d say there was quite a bit of food for them to find.”
“A dead beast, do you think?”
He shakes his head. “Too many vultures for just one animal. I’d say it was a small group of people traveling through.”
I swallow bile. My entourage. They didn’t make it out alive. I shut my eyes. Rumi the healer. My friend and I are done, but my heart splinters for her.
“Catalina,” he says softly. “What is it?”
Goose bumps crawl over my skin. He calls me by name only when he’s thinking of me as a friend and not as his queen. The moments are rare: meals shared with his mother and sister in a closed room, the few times he’d taken me riding around the perimeter of our land, somehow sensing when I needed to be free of the stone walls trapping us inside. Again, times alone were rare. But he’s been calling me by my name since he found me.