Chapter 21
Cusco is the heart of the ancestral empire. It was the capital until the main palace moved to Lima for its security and resources. It remains the religious capital of the empire, with various palaces for the nobles and the Panaka to stay and commune with the Gods, while also being a bustling city.
All the main entrances are guarded by soldiers conducting document checks.
There are multiple lines and hordes of people at each one.
It’s claustrophobic, and if I hadn’t gotten used to being surrounded during training exercises, I would be overwhelmed.
I wonder if this is how my mother felt her first time here, after life in our rural community.
The princess seems put off too. It makes sense. She’s a recluse, a princess locked up in a tower. While I know she’s been escorted from Lima to Cusco in the past, it’s always been carried in on a plush platform by soldiers like me.
Only a week ago, my dream was to be at the front of that procession as the Apukispay. There’s so much more at my fingertips now. The princess of the empire is at my side, and that’s only the beginning.
Because today I’m going to save the Inka. No Sun Staff required.
I look at the princess at my side, and I know she won’t like how I intend to do it.
Not that she’s expressed that to me. She hasn’t even asked what my plan is in the first place.
I wouldn’t have much to tell her, but the little I do have, I know won’t go over well.
It’s okay. We’ll get there when we get there.
This moment is all about following the princess’s plan and hoping it gets us in with no problems.
I should be more nervous about my lack of control over the situation, but I can’t help it.
It’s hard to be nervous when the princess is attached to my side, her arm entwined with mine, meeting at the end where we’re holding hands.
She was so skittish when I grabbed her hand, but now she’s pressed against me like she’ll never let go.
With Mare attached to her side, we really do look like a family unit.
I’m glad to have them both so close. People are pushing past us and jostling everything around them.
There are llamas of the darkest black brought for sacrifice and alpacas of the softest wool brought for their coats.
There’s the rustling of coca leaves in massive bundles and the clinking of intricate metal sculptures and jewelry.
The city’s massive walls are bordered with gold bricks and zigzag at random angles. But I know the city‘s design is anything but random. The borders make the shape of the Feline. It’s fitting to bring the Inkan princess dedicated to the Feline here. It feels like a divine purpose.
A breeze hits us, and the princess shivers. It’s a normal action, but it ignites something tender in me. I shuffle my arm out of her grip, and for a moment, she fights it. She doesn’t want to let go.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, and a second later she releases my arm.
I then lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her into my side and partially covering her with my lliklla.
She turns to ice and then melts, digging deeper into my side like she’s trying to get past my skin. I bite my lip to hold back a smile.
By the time we make it to the checkpoint, I’m not worried about not looking like a couple.
We make it past the guards without an issue. The muki’s horn is more than enough. Yet, the princess stays under my arm. She’s cuddled into me all through our walk, as we shuffle between people to find an inn with openings for tonight.
I present the muki’s stone to the innkeeper, an age-weary man in traditional Andean clothing with wrinkles deeper than the folds of his poncho. Its value is more than enough for a single room, so the man, despite his stiff frown, offers us food from the conjoining restaurant in reciprocity.
Despite my feelings of overstimulation, the city is emptier than it would normally be at this time.
The inn is quiet in a way that haunts rather than calms. Many people will arrive tomorrow, whether with prayers to save the Inka or desire to get front row seats to the show.
The energy of both types of people and everyone in between weighs down the air.
The mourning pall of night falls while everyone holds their breath at once.
We enter our room and shut the door, the barrier enough to separate us from the suffocating dread.
“Okay,” I whisper and shake my body free of all the lingering energy. “Everyone okay?”
“I’m fine, but… Mare…” the princess drifts off as I turn to look closer at Mare.
I expect him to look disgruntled, but it’s more than that. His face is red, and he’s breathing hard. His hands are clenched, and I can tell he’s digging his fingernails into his skin. I kneel in front of him and touch his cheek. My hand comes back wet. He’s been crying.
I don’t know what to do when he’s crying.
“Hey, uh, Mare, kori, what’s going on?”
At my direct question, he opens his mouth and just sobs. I look at the princess in shock, and she looks back at me with her eyebrows up to her hairline. I shake my head. She nods, and somehow we end up switching positions, with her in front of Mare and me by our things at the edge of the bed.
She’s whispering something to him that I don’t catch. This is odd. Mare is stronger than the small child he’s acting like now. He made it through the move to Lima without a single tear dropped, and I wasn’t expecting the crowds here to scare him so badly.
I swallow hard. He’s calming down, but I can still hear the occasional hiccup exit his mouth. I’m not the best at predicting people, but how could I have miscalculated this badly?
“… know about mimicry…” The princess’s gentle voice comes through. Mare is nodding his head now, and she hesitantly pats it a few times. I step forward to hear more, and she goes quiet.
“What about mimicry?” I ask.
The princess doesn’t move. Mare looks at me from above her head and then down at her. Then up at me again and back at her. He bites his lips.
“Susu told me not to say,” he says and shakes his head.
The princess sighs and gets up. Smart girl, she whispers beneath her breath. It’s so low it’s a miracle I caught it.
I narrow my eyes at the two of them. What could I have missed in the last few hours of us navigating Cusco? What could have possibly happened that has the princess knowing more about Mare than I do? I voice all this, and all the princess does is shake her head.
“Mare?” I ask him directly, since the princess is ignoring me in favor of pacing up and down the length of the room. “What’s going on, kori?”
He looks better, but now his brows are furrowed like he’s stressed.
“I promised Susu, but–”
“Don’t,” the princess commands, and Mare shuts his mouth like a good soldier.
“This is about Mare. I deserve to know whatever you do when it’s about him,” I say, though I’m less certain than I sound. Why would Suyai have Mare hide things from me? We don’t keep secrets, not with each other.
“I don’t know, not for sure, and I’d rather not,” the princess replies, igniting a red-hot frustration in my stomach.
“Cryptic and unhelpful as always, princess,” I snap, and the princess startles.
I swallow hard, and regret burns all the way down my throat.
There’s no time to dwell on that, but at least the shame wakes me up enough to soften my voice when I speak again.
“Mare, what’s going on? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but it might be better for me to know. ”
Mare opens his mouth when the princess jumps in again. “You don’t need to tell her. No one needs to know.”
This time, I keep from reacting on impulse. I don’t need to fight with her, not when her words come too late. No matter how close Mare has gotten with her, I’ve known him since he was born.
“It’s the samay. It hurts my head,” he says.
I don’t know if it’s the princess or me who curses, but what does it matter? Because if Mare is sensitive to samay, then it means he can likely do mimicry. Which means I might actually have a plan that works.
“Wipe that smile off your face. The child is in pain,” the princess says, harsher than I’ve ever spoken to her.
“The child can speak for himself. Mare, what do you feel?” Again, the princess is the last of my concerns here. Even if I can’t keep my eyes from flitting toward her, or help but hate the rising roughness between us. I have to focus on Mare.
Mare has caught on to my change in mood because he’s smiling. He starts to explain with his hands some sort of abstract sensation of pulses that I can’t really follow. This goes on for a minute before I can’t hold back my laughter anymore and grab him to swing him into my arms and twirl.
“You. Are. Brilliant,” I say in his ear. His entire demeanor changes with my approval, and he’s cheering as we go round and round.
“He’s sensitive,” the princess says once I’ve put him down. “From what he’s explained, he’s an Ave mimic.”
“This has to be fate,” I say, more to myself than the others.
The princess takes it personally. “I hate that word.”
Because it’s always been yours. I want to reach out and shake her, anything to satisfy my craving for her. I want to celebrate with her, even with her taciturn attitude. There are more important things to do first, though.
“Could he project?” I ask.
“He’s a kid,” the princess’s voice is stilted, but I can’t understand why. If legends are true, she was able to project and much more since before Mare’s age. It’s obvious the princess isn’t willing to give me more information, so I turn back to Mare, who’s hopping around after the gleeful spin.
“Mare, have you been able to project?”
“Yes, but Susu told me not to tell you, so you can’t tell her I did,” he rushes out.
The lack of trust stings, but it’s superseded by my excitement.
I kneel down to get to his height. “We’re going to eat really good tonight Mare because I’m going to let you in on some of my secrets too.”