Page 35

CHAPTER 35

Lalo

Lalo grabbed some blank parchment and a pencil and sat at the desk in the room of Carolina’s tía Morena. He sighed, glaring down at the empty page. How was one supposed to write a letter saying goodbye?

Carolina was right. He most likely wasn’t coming back from Devil’s Spine. Once they severed the ties to Tecuani, the power inside him would fade. Lalo’s soul would no longer be able to stay within the realm of the living because he had died. Maricela had killed him weeks ago.

Fernanda’s face came into mind. She’d always been so annoying to him growing up. Fernanda lived. She laughed. She had fun. He hated her for it after their parents were slain. He could never understand her carefree behavior when bills needed to be paid, a business needed to be run. How did she find time for friends and lovers when she had finishing school?

But now, facing the end, he wished he possessed a speck of her luster. He should have laughed more. Danced more. Hells below, he’d never even kissed anyone. Instead of turning his nose up at his sister, he should have learned from her.

But it was too late for that.

He bent over and began to write.

I am proud of you, dear sister. Proud that you have never dulled your shine. I’m sorry if I ever tried to convince you to be anyone but yourself. Because you are perfect. Smart, witty, fun. By birth, I am the big brother, but I look up to you. Please, do not let whatever happens to me take away the glistening spirit inside you. Remember me, of course, with fondness rather than sadness. I may have realized too late that I have not lived life to the fullest. At least I could watch you live yours.

I love you, Fernanda. Know that everything I have done, it has been because of my love for you.

He wiped at the tears falling from his eyes. He’d never been the type to cry, but it seemed in death, it was hard to hold in.

Thanks to Carolina, Fernanda would understand the feelings he could not express aloud. Lalo couldn’t help but smile whenever he thought of his “fiancée.” Carolina was stubborn, and irritating, and brilliant, and funny. And the way she had felt in his arms, that peck on the cheek she’d given him after they danced, brought a lump into his throat. He could only pray she survived this journey because the world would be darker without her in it.

He slipped another piece of parchment onto the desk and started to write a second letter.

When his name was signed, he dropped the charcoal pencil and eyed all that he’d written, satisfied.

A noise came from the hallway. Lalo shoved the letters inside the desk drawer and jumped to his feet, prepared to hide. Then he caught her scent. Her heart was racing.

The door slammed open, and Carolina rushed in. “Hurry!” she panted. “Put on your coat and sombrero!”

Lalo did what he was told.

“Have you packed?” she asked.

“Yes.” He pointed to a small satchel.

Carolina grabbed it and swung it over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Rafa has awakened. The messenger boy said he had to be restrained. My papá is dashing to the healers as we speak.”

Lalo cursed.

She offered her hand. He took it, ignoring how her soft yet callused skin felt in his.

Lalo stopped. “The daggers!”

“I’ve got them. Vámonos.”