strangest thing…the thought fell out of my head.”
Rishi’s always distracted. She’s like a magpie, searching for
shiny, pretty things. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and goes
back down the table, making new friends.
When Rishi leaves, Agosto returns his attention to me. He leans
his face toward me with total interest.
“Go on,” he tells me. “I know there’s something you want to ask
me.”
There are tons of things I want to ask him. Like, where does this
food come from? Why do they all wear the same bracelets? Why does
Rodriga the salamander girl seem to hate me? Even as she tilts her
bowl of soup to her lips, her eyes never leave my face. What does
Agosto know of the Devourer?
He waves his hand and a second wooden goblet appears. The liquid
is dark and smells bittersweet, like berries gone too ripe. My tongue
is so parched, and my belly makes hungry noises. The journey is
catching up with me, pressing down on my shoulders with a terrible
ache. Why can’t I be like Rishi and Nova, happily eating and telling
stories about where we come from? They make the streets of Brooklyn
sound magical and wondrous. Why does it take being far away from home
to finally miss it?
I drink from the wooden goblet. I’ve tried wine once, on a dare
from Lula. It was Lady’s Alta Bruja wine and they were blessing a
newly married couple. Just like that time, this wine causes me to
scrunch up my face at the tartness. I look down the table to see if
Rishi or Nova want some, but they seem to already have their own
goblets, complete with rose petals floating atop the liquid.
Agosto finds my reaction to the wine amusing and laughs. I decide
I rather like his laugh and the way tufts of pollen float around him.
One gets stuck on his long lashes. I reach for it and free it. He
watches me. Blinks. His smile is a riddle. His face is a dream. I
can’t seem to take my hand away from his face. My fingers trace one of
his horns.
I jerk my hand back.
“It’s okay,” he tells me. “You’re curious.”
I fear I’ve turned as red as my wine. “Why aren’t you in the
Kingdom of Adas?”
He thinks on the question. Even his serious face is beautiful. He
looks into his goblet like he’s searching for the right answer. I
realize maybe that wasn’t the right thing to ask. In a world wholly
new to me, that seems to hold so many secrets, what is the right thing
to ask?
“We are exiles,” he whispers.
“Oh.” I bite my lip, searching for something to say. Then, because
my brain seems to be on delay, I settle for, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He takes a small drink. The red liquid stains his
lips. “It was long ago. We refused to bow to a vicious king, and so we
left. These lands have changed over time, and our meadow grows
smaller. But it is the only home we have. We’ve been here so long that
I don’t consider myself as coming from the Kingdom of Adas but from
here. Don’t you think it important to have a land to call your own?”
“I think so. My mother’s family were run out of their lands in
Spain and fled to Mexico. My dad’s ancestors were African slaves in
Ecuador. They went to Panama and then Puerto Rico. Somehow, my blood
comes from all over the world and settled in Brooklyn. Brooklyn is my
home.”
“Brook- lin ,” Agosto says. “I rather like that word.”
I laugh wholeheartedly, right from my belly. It’s such a good
feeling that I can’t remember why I don’t let myself do it more often.
“It’s so beautiful here.” I tilt my face to the light. I start to
feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I’m not sure what. I realize
my goblet is empty and I’m a little disappointed. But when I blink,
it’s full again.
“You say you’re traveling to the mountains?” Agosto asks. “I
should warn you. There are nasty giants in those parts. Oh, and do
avoid the Laguna Roja, unless you can breathe underwater. Los Lagos
might be home to me, but all places have their dangers.”
“Is the labyrinth dangerous?” I ask.
A sad smile tugs at his lips. He leans into his seat, a throne
suited for the Meadow King. “No good can come from that place.”
“Have you been there?” My heart shoots up to my throat.
“Long ago.” Agosto takes his goblet and drinks deep. His lips are
stained purple. “I was searching for someone. But the labyrinth has a
way of taking you in and never letting go. It is a dark place, a
damned place. I find it’s better to stay here, in the meadow, where I
can always find the light.”
“What if you didn’t have a choice?” I press on. “What if you had
to go back?”
The faun king laughs heartily. I love the sound of it. “Eat, now.
You must be famished.”
I am hungry. Who knows when we’ll have food again on the rest of
our journey? But there’s something wrong about the roasted chicken in
front of me-the skin is perfectly crispy. The potatoes are soft and
smothered in rosemary and sea salt. It’s just the way I like it. But
when I lean forward, I don’t smell the rich spices.
I smell dirt.
The magic within me stirs. I press my hand over my racing heart.
I’ve used more magic since we arrived than I have my whole life. I can
feel my power getting restless, as if it had a taste of freedom and it
won’t be caged again.
“Your power is calling to the meadow,” Agosto says.
How does he know that? “Do you have magic?”
He turns his head from side to side. “Once. It was taken from me.”
“By who?”
“My brother, the Bastard King of Adas. The last great thing I
could do for my people was find them a new home.” He pats my hand
gently with his. “There’s so much I wish I could do for them still-so
much I’m willing to do.”
I take Agosto’s hand and squeeze. I can’t imagine that an immortal
being such as him needs the comfort of a girl like me, but I know his
pain. The feeling stirs inside of me until I start to feel like I’ll
come undone.
“Excuse me,” I say, standing from the table.
“Wait.” Agosto takes my hand in his. Despite his calluses and
scars, his touch is surprisingly soft. For a moment, I pretend he’s
someone else. I look down the table, and the thought startles me so
that I pull away.
“I’m just getting a little warm in the sun,” I assure him.
He kisses the back of my hand. “Don’t go too far. It isn’t safe
out there.”
The sound of a snake hissing follows me as I walk away. When I
turn around, Rodriga is leaning over Agosto’s arm, vying for his
attention. She waves her arms in the air, but all he does is look into
his wine goblet.
I start to walk down the table to Nova, but he’s on his second
steak, and I’ve already forgotten what I wanted to ask him. Where are
my thoughts going? It’s like Rishi said. They fell out of her head.
I walk to the edge of the meadow to find some shade. My stomach
contracts painfully. I sit down and hit my head against the bark of
the tree. Can it be that I’ve resisted my magic for so long that I
simply just can’t recognize the difference between a stomachache and
my own power?
“Lula,” I say. “I really need you to come back.”
It isn’t Lula who appears. It’s my mother. Right in the middle of
the field. Her hair is still haloed by bright-red flowers that match
her lips. Her white dress is stained with dirt.
I jump up to my feet. I need to run to her. I need her to forgive
me. Need her to tell me I’m going the right way. I need my mom.