“Save it, champion,” she hisses the term like an insult. “If I know one thing, it’s that you’re not here to protect me. All youglory-seeking fools never are. It was my dumb mistake to keep you close in Lima, but everything is different now. If you want to keep playing the hero, then go on your quest, but I won’t.”
“Gods, what is your problem?” I ask without thinking, losing any sense of controlled composure I had.
“Oh, champion, wait until you realize I am the problem,” she says with a sharp grin and those dead eyes. “Go and be the Guardians’ Hero. You should be thankful I won’t get in your way.”
“I can’t,” I blurt out. I want to deny everything she says with vicious insults back, but Ineedher. My mother’s warning flashes through my mind, but there’s no use for it now. I have no other choice.
“Why? The hero’s duty is to retrieve the Sun Staff and save the empire, is it not? Tell them I died, go to your cursed island, and claim your fame. I don’t plan to ever return.”
“I can’t get to the island by myself,” I whisper. “I need you.”
Please. Please, understand what I’m saying.
“Don’t tell me the Guardians’ Hero is too scared to travel alone?” Her words are an insult, but her tone doesn’t reflect it. It’s hesitant and prying, like she’s asking me to explain.
I have no other choice, but I still hold out for seconds that feel like hours. I watch her brows furrow. She’s about to ask something else when I force it out of me.
“I’m not a mimic,” I rush out.
I can’t explain the sensations I’ve felt since the Sun Staff awakened, or the voices of our Guardians in my ears, or the wind pushing me toward her. I can’t explain my burning need to see her looking okay, no longer ashen with purple bruises beneath her eyes. I can’t explain that, because none of it is the mimicry I need to raise the island.
“That’s impossible. The army screens for it. You tested for Feline mimicry.”
“That must have been based on my genetics, not my abilities,” I answer truthfully. I remember the screening day and how I didn’t feel a single thing.
“Oh, mother would’ve loved this,” the princess replies, under her breath, like it isn’t for me to hear.
“You won’t tell her?” The question is genuine, but the way the princess throws her head back and laughs makes me feel like a naive idiot.
“I won’t do anything for her or the empire ever again.” Her words ring true, but I can’t get myself to believe them.
“You will be Inka someday–”
“Not all of us feel beholden to our fates. I refuse.” The princess’s words are a slap to the face.
Fate finally favors me, and the princess, someone who has had everything, always, wants to throw that fate away.
She gets up as if to leave, but immediately loses her composure and begins throwing up, falling to her knees again. My heart sinks. Her hair is whiter than I thought possible. It’s wiry and frizzed to the point of crooked waves.
“What do you need to regenerate your samay?” I ask. No one knows how the princess can perform unlimited mimicry, but I’ve heard theories. There must be something I can find to help.
“Fuck you,” the princess says, spitting out bile.
Gods be damned, what is her problem?
Mare steps out of my embrace to glare at her, then stomps the ground. “You can’t speak to her like that! It’s rude," he shouts. Thunder punctuates his words and distracts both the princess and me from his chivalry. I hear a slight sigh from her as my eyes turn to the sky, but I can’t dwell on it too long.
A cloud covers the sun and throws us into shadow. It’s about to pour. The humidity in the air spikes, and I smell the difference. In Lima, it always smells of the sea. Here, the dryand wet seasons are so distinct, I can tell when it’s going to be a violent downpour from the scent of the air alone.
It’s a couple of weeks before the Winter Solstice, and the wet season should be over, but the occasional rains can still happen.
And if it can rain, it can flood.
“We need to find shelter,” I say. The princess glares at me, and my face gets hot from her attention.
I expect her to fight, but she looks off into the distance and says, “You’re right.”
Those aren’t fighting words, and my coiled body is disappointed. We begin to walk in a silence that not even Mare breaks. I don’t trust myself to speak for fear of starting something better off left for later. My lack of mimicry, our quest to Lake Titicaca, and why everyone thinks I’m so undeserving of the title that belongs to me.
