Chapter 9
Ishould wait. Instead, I press my ear to the line where the gold door meets the rock wall.
A faint breeze escapes and cuts my cheek with an unexpected chill.
That’s sea breeze. The little that makes sense of my internal map after the winding walk here tells me I’m at the deepest part of the Inka’s quarters.
I made it the furthest west possible from the entrance and in front of the room that overlooks the cliffside.
The entire west side of the palace is fitted to be as close to the cliff edge as possible.
The connection to the Ukhu Pacha, the Inner world, and our serpent Guardian, as well as the way diviners have measured the incoming light from Inti, our Sun God, makes this location a necessity, despite the many security concerns.
The hint of sea breeze is undeniable here. I press my nose against the thin opening, and I’m transported to days past, to climbing cliff sides and violent waves.
“We should be granted access to the temples. We deserve proof–”
“…. to demand things from the diviners. I hope I haven’t raised a fool.”
The Inka's and the princess’s voices are as faint as the sea breeze and just as cutting. This is better than letting myself in. This is an advantage they can’t take away. I need to listen.
I hold my breath so as not to disturb the air. The noises come and go.
“… failed the Guardians, failed this family,” the Inka shouts the end of a sentence I missed the beginning of.
There’s murmuring and the sound of furniture and bodies moving. It all slowly gets closer to me.
“In the end, you will be on top,” the Inka says. She leaves no room for argument, so the princess’s agreement afterward isn’t a shock.
“I will, Inka Yanaru.”
“From the mouth of the diviners themselves, that girl, the so-called Guardians’ Hero, will be the one to pass the trials on Isla del Sol.
Let her pass them then. She will retrieve the Sun Staff.
And then, when she returns, she will be so injured she’ll have no choice but to hand you the Staff and lie down to die. ”
“Inka Yanaru, that is not guaranteed by the diviners–”
“Then make it a guarantee.”
The breath is knocked out of me, and somewhere outside the range of my heartbeat, I hear the princess gasp as well.
“Understand, Yanami?”
I am so overwhelmed by the sound of my breathing that I do not process any words that follow. It takes only a second for me to regain my composure, but then all I hear is the whistling sea breeze.
Is it over? Is that the end? Is that supposed to be my end?
“Yanami.”
I have never heard a voice so acrid. The Inka’s tongue must burn.
“Yanami. You will get rid of the false hero.”
False hero. That’s how the Inka sees me. I am nothing more than the False King she defeated in her own youth. I keep my breathing under control. I can no longer hold my breath, not when I already feel like I’m going to pass out.
“I will not repeat myself.”
I don’t know what I want to hear. I beg my heart to quiet down.
I beg the princess to just agree. I beg the Inka to take back her words, or I’ll make her by force.
I beg enough times to turn the words meaningless, and I am only interrupted in those fated seconds by wind cooling the sweat on the back of my neck and whispering yet again.
You are meant to serve…
Then–
The resounding crack of skin against skin. I know the sound of a slap. I know this is one. The sound echoes in my head as if it were the squelch of a blunt object smashing in the princess’s head.
I feel sick. Then, she talks.
“I understand, Inka Yanaru.”
I can’t listen anymore with the wind slamming into my neck and ordering me to move, move, move. Why can’t I move? All I do is take one step back and lean against the wall next to the door.
Away from the sounds I can’t unhear.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but when the door opens, I am in a daze.
Oh, the princess is just as beautiful as the first time I saw her.
She’s no longer in ceremonial dress, but her tunic still screams Panaka.
Its vibrant colors don’t shine the way they should in this cavern, but I catch the significance anyway.
Her hair is still completely black. There are no white strands to prove what happened at the Guardians’ ceremony.
She is heavenly, shining like a sun trapped inside a black-frosted glass cage.
The sound of the physical abuse haunts my thoughts, playing over and over like a never-tiring symphony.
She says something I do not catch, though my body does unwind at the sound of her voice. She is alive. She is standing, and she’s talking, and she’s within arm's reach as she should be.
“You are in my way, champion,” the princess says, and I am hit with the realization that I am standing awkwardly before her, blocking the narrow hallway.
I fumble to correct my posture as the basics of etiquette return to my mind. I don’t care what the Inka and Panaka said yesterday. I care about paying respect. The moment my spine is straight, I throw myself down to one knee and rest the opposite side arm on it.
Looking above me, I can’t see her full expression.
She is not looking down at me. Instead, she stares at a spot high above my left shoulder.
Shadows carve her facial structure into various otherworldly facades.
I imagine her as the Feline, then the Ave, then the Serpent.
It doesn’t matter who she represents, though.
It doesn’t matter because in every form her cheek still sports a bruise. I can see that much. My mouth dries up with desperate words. Let me help. I’m here to help. I say nothing. Words are meaningless when I live by action.
I don’t hear her words until she looks down and we meet eyes. She was obviously saying something before, but there was no way I could have heard it above that damned wind, a wind I know isn’t touching her from the stillness of her hair.
“You are my new champion,” she says. The princess isn’t here. Not the princess with the warm touch and voice begging to help. This princess is a dead girl walking. That much is obvious when I look into her eyes.
Infamous black irises.
Her lips form a snarl that reveals the tip of one of her sharpened canines. Above me, I can tell those black eyes are not filled with the hatred of her snarl or the warmth of her touch. They’re the site of a battle.
Prey versus predator. I’ve never seen anyone look so deadly yet so afraid.
“I will let this go, because I am not deluded enough to think someone like you could ever reach the status of one of my champions,” she says, and I see the predator. “But know that when I tell you to move out of my way, you move before I move you myself.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, and the gamble I take is worth it if it means understanding her.
The princess raises her hand. Her palm faces me, and for once, I feel it. The mimicry. The trickled-down power of our Guardians, except, despite the obvious restraint, her power feels different than any hit I’ve ever sustained.
Before any hit comes, though, she gasps and holds her hand to her chest as if burned. She struggles to control her breath. She is no longer looking at me, but I saw her eyes clearly enough in that moment.
I saw the prey.
She leaves me kneeling on the floor without another look. I do not hear a single footstep, and by the time I get up and turn around, she’s gone.
It is only once I am outside of the princess’s presence that I can process everything I heard and saw.
When I walk into the room, in front of the Inka and Panaka Harawi with their kids, my vision goes red.
I bare my teeth at the Inka, reckless but finally acting on my useless thoughts.
The Inka does not affect me like the princess does.
After meeting her once, I can stare at her face and feel nothing but white-hot fire in my stomach.
“Welcome, Sinchinrei,” Panaka Harawi says. Inka Yanaru stays quiet. She is processing the new information that I was outside the door. He ignores the silence and, to my horror, starts introducing his children. They were all there when it happened, too. Any one of them could have stopped it.
How can I listen to Panaka Harawi knowing he was in the same room where the princess got hit and did nothing? How can I pretend to respect him when all I see is a coward? I’ve never been a good liar. I’m definitely not good enough to act like I don’t want to bash all their heads in.
He and his children go on as if they don’t sense it, but the Inka doesn’t. Her silence says it all.
The Inka has to know now that I know she wants me out of the way, and I am not naive enough to think she didn’t mean dead by any means possible.
In the next few days or weeks or months or years, I will be our sole hope against some all-powerful threat, and she expects to promptly dispose of me like trash.
No, it’s worse. She expects the princess to do it.
This is supposed to be my chance. I’ve only ever asked for one. But the Inka wants me dead, and she’ll hurt her own daughter for it. The chance I thought I’d have by virtue of destiny will not be given to me.
No worries. I’m used to it. I’ll just have to take it.
“You are the princess’s champion before you are the Guardians’ Hero, and you will act as such. Your debut is tomorrow, and you will submit to her during a ceremonial battle–“
“Debut?” I say without thinking, blinking out the glare I had focused on the Inka.
Someone on my left laughs, one of the princes.
“You can’t expect someone like this to follow complicated details while in our presence, my Inka,” Manakispi, the oldest of the siblings, says.
Oh, screw this kid. Before I can open my mouth to say just that, the Inka speaks up, and I swear I hear Manakispi’s teeth click shut with monumental force.
“We will not waste more time with her. A servant will explain the details, and the tutor will set up a practice with Yanami. If it wasn’t dictated by our Guardians, I would say it was a mistake to bring her here.”
It wasn’t a mistake for me to hear what happened, not for me.