Chapter 9
The sky was a deep blue by the time Kasik walked them over to a small clearing directly off the emperor’s road. Nina had begun
to regret not riding Capac shortly after sliding from his back, but she refused to concede when it felt like Kasik was waiting
for it. They hadn’t spoken for hours, and now that it was dark enough that she could hardly make out the features of his face,
she realized just how much of a stranger he was.
There was something uniquely lonely about following a stranger into the unknown. It wasn’t as though she wanted to be his
friend—he had made it very clear that he was simply doing his duty, and begrudgingly at that—but she had hoped that knowing
something about him, finding common ground, might make the journey easier.
As it turned out, they couldn’t manage to have a conversation without arguing.
Nina pulled off one shoe, sighing in relief as the cool air blew over her blistered skin. Kasik was removing the seat from
Capac, his back to her, the shadows cutting grooves into his arms and neck. His red tunic now looked black, a clever trick
of the light. It clung to his broad shoulders. The golden bands on his toned arms dug into his skin as he pulled a bow and
arrow from Capac’s side and turned to her. She averted her eyes just in time to avoid being caught staring.
“I need to hunt.” Kasik said. “Do you want to come, or can I trust you to stay here?”
Alone? she wanted to ask, but of course she would stay alone. It was only them for miles, it seemed, and though the clearing they were in appeared harmless enough, she suddenly wondered what other beasts were lurking in the dense dark beyond their small circle.
She hardly knew him, and yet she felt safer by his side. And in his arms. Nina tossed that thought away as if burned. “I’ll
stay here,” she almost shouted. In a softer voice, she added, “With Capac.”
Kasik’s eyes bounced between hers, and Nina got the feeling that he was deciding if he could trust her. When he nodded and
mumbled a quick “Be back soon,” she wondered how he had made the choice so easily.
For all he knew, she could have lied and taken off the moment he turned his back. Capac was still there, and he would make
a fantastic companion on the dark and lonely road. Big enough to scare off creatures and humans alike. But he couldn’t talk,
and he couldn’t navigate, and Nina didn’t know her way home.
And she had made a vow, one that weighed heavily on her shoulders now that her future had been realigned. Assigned. Trying to evade it in the acllahuasi had put her in solitary confinement for three days. Out here, trying to evade it might
get her killed.
She peered into the trees. There could be any number of things watching her. Hungry animals, curious creatures, vengeful spirits. The canopy of leaves soared high and thick enough to block
her view of the sky, and the underbrush obscured most of the ground.
Cold crept along her arms and trailed icy fingers down her spine. In the distance, a bird screeched. She jumped at the sound
and then laughed at herself. Capac licked his paws and ignored her entirely.
Nina wasn’t scared of the dark at home, but this dark was different. Thick and ominous and absolute. Out of sheer desperation,
she moved closer to Capac and slowly, warily pressed herself to his side. To her surprise, he turned and sniffed her temple,
his whiskers tickling her cheek.
It had never occurred to her to seek comfort.
With her family, it was freely given, as natural as breathing.
When she was frightened, her mamay stoked the fire and made her tea.
When she was sick, her tayta would spoil her with her favorite meals.
When she was lonely, Sacha would tell her secrets and make her laugh, reminding her that she was not alone.
Never in her life had she gone without it.
Even so, there were times when she felt invisible under the endless sky. Inconsequential while floating in the vast sea. She
had wondered if the gods could see her and if they cared to know her deepest desires. If there would ever be anyone besides
her family who saw her for who she truly was.
The kunay had seen something in her. The memory of his eyes filled her with dread, and now she wished for nothing more than to be forgotten, to be able
to quietly return home and be free of the expectations placed upon her. A wife. How preposterous, and even more so that the emperor had supposedly chosen her by name. All her thoughts and plans of escape
dissolved into the dark before her very eyes.
A twig snapped nearby. Nina jerked her head toward the sound and narrowed her eyes into the darkness. Behind her, Capac had
gone utterly still, which concerned Nina more than anything. Were achipuma trained to kill? Or would he slink into the night
to save his own skin and leave her defenseless?
Perhaps Kasik should have left a weapon. She didn’t even think to ask.
The dark was playing tricks on her eyes. Everything seemed to move and shift and reach out, and she held in a scream as a
shape floated closer and closer. Nina pressed her back against Capac, grateful he had stayed to witness her death, at the
very least, since he didn’t seem willing to be of any help.
What did it say about her that she sighed with relief upon seeing a flash of Kasik’s face through a solitary shaft of moonlight?
“You scared me,” she said, a hand to her heart to steady it. “I can’t see anything out here.”
Kasik dropped a bundle at her feet and then unslung the bow from his back. It was quiet enough that she could hear every movement and each of her own breaths. “Will you start a fire while I prepare the meat?”
Nina pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know how to start a fire, not like this. At home,
she would have used a silver bowl to gather the sun’s heat, and the fire would burn for many weeks. If it began to go out,
they would easily light it again. If there was another way to do it, she didn’t know of it.
Kasik didn’t wait for an answer before moving off to the side, a small blade curled tight in one hand and his kills in the
other. Nina stood and squinted at the ground. They would need tinder, that much she knew, but it was all wet and squishy.
In her ayllu, they stored their fire materials in a watertight space. Everything was planned for and controlled. All this
was so far out of her realm of knowledge that it made her embarrassed to think that she had ever thought she wanted or could
handle adventure.
The past fortnight was enough of an adventure to last a lifetime.
There was a light touch on her shoulder. Nina stiffened against the familiar press of his hand. How was he always so warm?
“Come,” Kasik said, voice soft. “Let me show you.”
Nina breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, he had known she was struggling without her having to say, and it meant more to her
than she was willing to consider right then.
“The rain has been heavy, but there is brush thick enough that the water doesn’t penetrate completely.” He crouched at the
base of a bush and stuck his arm in up to his shoulder. When he brought it back out, his hand was full of twigs and dried
grass. “See?” he said, handing her one bundle after another until her arms were full and he led them back to their small campsite.
Nina watched as he arranged the tinder just so and rubbed a long, thin stick between his hands, back and forth, from top to bottom. Just when it seemed like nothing was happening, he blew lightly on the bundle. Her eyes widened when the small embers ignited with his breath.
“Now you try,” he said, handing her the stick. She copied his stance, one foot as an anchor on a larger piece of wood on the
ground, hands flat and rubbing together quickly. The muscles in her arms began to burn.
“You have to move down the stick.” Suddenly he was behind her, and his arms were around her, hands on top of hers as he guided
them down. Warmth bloomed in her chest and crawled up her neck. His mouth was close enough to her face that she could feel
his breath with each exhale.
“I am moving down the stick,” she said. “It’s not—” A thin line of smoke appeared, distracting Nina from the rest of her thought
and the pressure of his body against hers. “Look,” she said surprised. She bent down to blow on the embers and watched with
awe as they briefly flared.
“Good,” Kasik complimented. “Now do it again.”
So, she did, a few more times before the embers caught fully and flared to life. Kasik had moved to her side, their shoulders
pressed together, his comforting warmth seeping into her as the fire grew and lit their faces. Nina snuck a glance at Kasik.
In this light, he looked less burdened, and somehow younger. As if the breadth of responsibility cut away at him and there,
in that moment, the orange glow softened his harsher features. She remembered what he said about expectations and gilded cages
and wondered if she had judged him too harshly.
Perhaps, like her, he was simply trying to navigate the limited choices he had. Perhaps they had much in common.
Nina was loathe to admit it, but she was desperate not to be alone.
“Before, you asked if there was only one.” Kasik lifted his eyes to where Capac lay sprawled on his back, paws in the air without a care in the world.
“There were two, but Illari was taken by bandits on the road. She was carrying a bag of provisions for you. Extra clothing and tea. Master Wara said it was essential that you take it every morning.”
He sounded amused while he said it, but Nina was surprised to realize that, in the chaos of Kasik’s arrival that morning,
the acllas had forgotten to serve it to her. She was glad for it. The tea Nina and her family often drank at home was made
from Mamacoca leaves that were a beautiful bright green and made her feel more connected to the land and to herself. More
grounded.