Page 18 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

The next morning, as the hike through Endrina resumed, I trailed behind the rest of the mercenaries, my body still sluggish from the effects of Malakai’s damn sedative. Each step felt heavier than the last, the jungle air thick, wrapping around me like a vice. I was slower than usual, my legs aching, my pride raw from the night before.

Much to my surprise, the little cat-like alebrije had stayed. When I woke, I found it curled up beside my head, its warm little body pressed into my neck, its purrs a soothing hum against my skin. As I stirred, it nuzzled against me as if to demand I stay still and rest longer.

Now, the creature darted between the trees, leaping over thick roots, disappearing into the underbrush only to come bounding back to me. It launched itself up onto my shoulder, perched there like a featherlight sentinel before springing off again to terrorize the others.

Elías let out a yelp when the little beast clawed its way up a tree, launched itself from the highest branch, and landed squarely on his head. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Nix, control your little gremlin!”

he shouted, swatting at the creature as it chirped in obvious amusement.

The alebrije bolted back toward me, darting behind my legs as if I could shield it from Elías’s wrath. It chittered again, and I could swear it was laughing.

“Behave yourself,”

I chided, but I couldn’t stop the small smirk that tugged at the corner of my mouth. When the alebrije peeked up at me, I gave it a little wink to let it know I wasn’t actually upset.

The mischievous thing flicked its bushy tail and leaped back into the trees, no doubt planning its next ambush.

The others had pulled ahead, moving at a faster pace through the thick jungle. I wasn’t as fortunate. My body still fought against me, my limbs aching, my stamina frayed. Every obstacle felt like a battle—fallen trees, tangled vines, uneven ground. My balance was off, my muscles still weak from months of confinement. I was getting stronger, but it was an agonizingly slow process. One that I tried not to let bother me as much as it did.

Without a word, Lian stepped in, helping me over the rough terrain. He didn’t hesitate when I needed a steadying hand. Didn’t sigh in exasperation when I struggled to lift myself over a particularly high root. He simply reached out, grasped my arm, and hauled me over without a second thought.

I had expected him to abandon me after what happened last night. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. If he had finally decided that keeping a girl like me alive wasn’t worth the risk.

But he hadn’t.

And that—that—spoke volumes about him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, tightening my grip on his forearm as he helped me over another fallen trunk.

“Thanks,”

I murmured, my voice quieter than I intended.

Lian just nodded, his usual quiet strength unwavering.

The sun had started to filter through the thick canopy overhead, slanting golden beams through the trees, casting dappled light on the jungle floor. Birds chattered above, and the distant sound of rushing water hinted at a nearby river.

I focused on those things. On the small, inconsequential details that kept my mind from turning inward.

Because if I let myself think too much, I might start questioning whether I truly belonged here at all.

Up ahead, the laughter and chatter of the others carried through the trees like birdsong, light and carefree.

But I barely heard it.

My focus was on the climb, on the uneven ground beneath my boots, the damp earth that hissed underfoot with every step.

Each stone I stepped over sent a twinge up my aching legs, each twisted root threatened to snag my feet and send me sprawling.

My body was still sluggish, my muscles sore from days of relentless travel and restless sleep.

A cluster of chechén trees lined the crest of the hill, their gnarled branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.

The dappled shadows they cast flickered over the delicate jacarandas below, their lavender blossoms swaying in the warm breeze.

The sun bore down on my skin like a hammer against steel, relentless and punishing.

Sweat pooled in the small of my back, soaking into my shirt, clinging to my body like a second skin.

I should have been grateful for the gentle wind that stirred through the trees, cooling the damp heat that coiled around my body. I should have found some comfort in the scent of fresh earth, of sun-warmed bark, and the sticky-sweet nectar of flowers that perfumed the jungle air.

But I couldn’t.

Not when Malakai was somewhere behind me. Not when I still felt the phantom prick of a needle in my neck.

I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

He had knocked me out last night, and though I understood why—understood that he had been protecting himself, his crew, even me—that did nothing to dull the sharp-edged fury twisting in my gut.

I’d given him no other choice. And I didn’t know if I could ever forgive myself for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Beneath the anger, buried so deep I barely dared acknowledge it, was something far worse.

Shame.

I had lost control. Lost myself. My emotions had run unchecked, reckless as a stampede across the praderas of Rojas. I had lashed out, wild and untethered, and Malakai had put me down like a rabid animal.

Because that’s what I was, wasn’t I?

A thing to be contained. Controlled.

I clenched my jaw and fixed my gaze forward, forcing my feet to keep moving.

The group had been hiking for hours when Malakai finally drifted through the trees, moving toward me and Lian with that effortless, predatory grace of his.

The alebrije, who had been trotting faithfully by my side, immediately perked up and darted past my legs, its little paws barely making a sound as it scrambled up Malakai’s pant leg. With the ease of familiarity, it clambered onto his shoulder and curled itself around the curve of his neck, nuzzling into him like it belonged there.

Malakai barely reacted, save for the slight quirk of his lips as he scratched the creature beneath its chin.

Of course, it liked him. Shameless little thing.

I forced my gaze forward, refusing to look at him, refusing to let him see the war waging inside me. Next to me, Lian shifted, clearly uncomfortable. He could feel the tension between us as thick as the jungle heat.

Malakai, adjusting the alebrije on his shoulder, cleared his throat.

"Lian, go check on the others. I’ll help Nix.”

I flicked him a sharp glance that said, ‘Don’t you dare leave me with him.’

Lian hesitated. Just for a breath. His sharp blue eyes flicked between me and Malakai, catching the rigid set of my shoulders, the way my hands curled into fists at my sides.

But then he sighed, offering me a look of quiet apology before he hurried toward the front of the group.

Coward.

Malakai continued walking beside me, his silver hair catching in the warm jungle breeze, stray strands blowing across his sharp features. That damn scent of his—clean like spearmint and fresh-cut fir—crowded me, too close, too him.

I shot a glare at the alebrije perched smugly on his shoulder, the little traitor. It had abandoned me without hesitation, curling into Malakai’s neck like he was its rightful keeper. I took a deliberate step to the side, putting more space between us, hoping the distance might clear my head.

It didn’t.

I felt his gaze on me, steady, assessing. I didn’t look at him, but I knew what he saw—a girl too thin from months in a dungeon, hair unkempt and tangled, her pride crumbling like old stone but still trying to stand tall within the ruins. A soldier without a war. A broken blade.

He sighed through his nose, and I braced myself.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me, and I just wanted to say that I’m—”

I didn’t let him finish.

I stopped abruptly and turned to face him, hands clenched into the shoulder straps of my pack.

"Just stop it,”

I snapped.

Malakai blinked, startled by the force of my voice.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. Not you,”

I growled, my nails digging into my palms.

"In fact, what you did last night was probably the smartest thing you’ve done since we met. If you were really smart, you’d knock me out for the rest of this trip and be done with it.”

I came to an abrupt halt and stared him down. How dare he apologize to me! I expected him to reprimand me. To give me a warning. But an apology? It was foolishness.

“We are not on the same side, Malakai,”

I spat, the anger I felt toward myself spilling over.

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head, lowering himself slightly to meet my eye level. That infuriating habit of his. Like he thought if he got close enough, if he really looked, he might see something I wasn’t willing to show.

“Is that so?”

he asked, his voice utterly calm.

"Then why does it feel like we are?”

Idiot. He was going to get himself and his crew killed. And I’d be the one to do it.

“I’m not afraid of you,”

he said, quiet but firm.

My breath caught in my throat. Maybe he meant what he said. Maybe he really wasn’t afraid of me. But I was. And that was somehow worse.

His gaze flickered, tracing my face, lingering just a moment too long on my lips. His mouth parted as if he was about to say something more, but I wasn’t listening anymore—because suddenly, a thought struck me with the force of a gut punch.

Had I ever really looked at his lips before?

They looked softer than I would have expected. A warrior’s lips should have been chapped, rough, like the rest of him. But his—his looked . . . warm.

I recoiled from the thought, snapping my head to the side, forcing my attention elsewhere. Ridiculous. Such things were absurd. A Hada warrior like him wouldn’t look twice at me. Not even when I had been at my peak, strong and unbroken.

So foolish.

Malakai, oblivious to the chaos he had just sent through my brain, pressed on.

"Though, at times, you do worry me,”

he admitted, his voice still quiet, thoughtful.

"Which is why I reacted the way I did. And for that, I’m sorry.”

His eyes scanned me again, deliberate and considering, as if weighing the truth in my expression.

I swallowed against the sudden knot in my throat.

"I’m sorry too,”

I murmured, the words barely audible. A hollow ache yawned open inside me, deep and unrelenting.

"I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.”

Malakai exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing.

"I don’t believe for a second that you meant to do it in the first place,”

he said. His violet gaze still held me in place, dissecting, measuring.

I knew what he saw.

And I knew I fell short.

I shook my head as if I could shake off the gnawing guilt clawing at my chest, the lingering humiliation from last night still fresh and raw. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and pushed forward, resuming the hike, hoping movement would quiet the thoughts racing through my mind.

Malakai, of course, matched my pace effortlessly, his long strides making it look easy. He had an irritating way of moving, like he was never really walking, just floating along, unbothered, always one step ahead of everyone else.

“Besides what happened last night,”

he said, voice smooth as ever, “how are you doing today? How are your feet? Are the boots okay?”

I tilted my face toward the sun as it broke through the silver leaves of the cecropia trees, letting the warm rays wash over me. If I focused hard enough, I could almost imagine the light belonged to Tochlin, the Sun Mother herself, that she might lend me some of her strength.

I didn’t understand how Malakai could let things go so easily. It was infuriating. How I wished I knew his secret—how he could bury all his hurts and never revisit them. Maybe then I could do the same. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so raw all the time.

“I’m fine,”

I responded flatly, shifting my gaze to the uneven trail ahead.

Malakai snorted.

"You spent six months cooped up in a tiny cell, and you expect me to believe that?”

I chanced a glance at him, finding his lips curled into that devilish grin of his.

“Your point?”

I shot back, my voice dry.

I tried to keep my eyes from lingering on him, but it was difficult when he looked like that—all sun-kissed ochre skin glistening with sweat, his silver hair catching the light like spun moonlight, the slight curl at the edges dampened from the humidity. His shirt had come undone at the collar, the fabric clinging to his chest in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting, but was.

Absolutely ridiculous, I scolded myself.

Malakai, oblivious to my internal crisis, chuckled.

"All this walking must feel like hell to you. Are you getting blisters? We can slow the pace some more until you regain your strength.”

I bristled at the suggestion. Though well-intentioned, his words were an unwanted reminder of just how weak I was. And worse, he was right.

The heat was brutal, my clothes were drenched in sweat, and every step made my legs scream in protest. The desert of Rojas had a dry heat, sharp and biting, but this—the unrelenting humidity of the Endrina Jungle pressing against my skin, clinging to me like a second layer—was miserable. My hair was a tangled mess, my body ached in places I didn’t know could ache, and even though I’d just bathed the night before, I felt disgusting.

The last thing I needed was Malakai noticing any of it.

“I said I was fine,”

I repeated, forcing an airiness into my voice. To drive the point home, I gave him an overly sweet smile—the kind that was all teeth and no warmth. I even fluttered my lashes for good measure.

"See? So fine that I’m smiling.”

Malakai tossed his head back and laughed, the sound ringing through the trees. He laughed like he had all the time in the world, like this was the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen.

A flock of startled toucans erupted from their nests, squawking their disapproval as black plumes scattered into the air.

“Now I know you need a break,”

he said between chuckles.

"You’re acting delusional.”

Before I could react, he reached out and flicked the tip of my nose.

I swatted his hand away like an annoying fly.

"I don’t know how many other ways I can say it. I said that I’m fine. I’m all right. I’m good to go. What else do you want from me?”

Malakai ignored my protests entirely, his grin widening.

"I can tell you’re not. We’ve been slowing down ever since this morning, and I guarantee it’s not because of any one of us. You’re tired. Just admit it.”

“You’re infuriating,”

I growled. It was like he wanted to rile me up.

He smirked.

"I’ve been called worse than that, love. You’ll have to come up with something better.”

That damn word. Love. He wielded it like a weapon, a casual nickname meant to get under my skin. And worse, it worked.

Before I could snap at him for it, he suddenly brought his fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp whistle.

“Round it up, boys! We’re taking a break,”

he called out.

"The Nightshade needs to rest.”

I seethed.

"Can’t you go annoy someone else for a change?”

“Why would I do that?”

Malakai grinned down at me, completely unfazed.

"You’re my favorite person to annoy.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. He held my gaze, violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable, something that made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

It should have been irritation. Should have been.

But it wasn’t.

Elías crashed through the underbrush like a wild animal, a grin plastered across his face.

"Finally! Things were getting interesting over here. I was feeling so left out.”

His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he skidded to a stop between me and Malakai, immediately catching onto the tension in the air. Because of course he did. He lived for this kind of thing.

I huffed, already regretting what I was about to do.

"Elías, please tell Malakai I’m fine. You’re the Curador here. Surely you’re the authority when it comes to injuries and exhaustion,”

I said, gesturing to myself like ‘see? perfectly intact.’

Elías cocked his head, lips curling into a slow, knowing grin as he gave me a once-over.

"Oh, yes, she’s looking absolutely wonderful,”

he purred, dragging out the words as he not-so-subtly elbowed Malakai in the ribs.

Malakai shoved him away with a laugh, rolling his shoulders.

"Down, boy,”

he said, but the amusement in his voice was unmistakable.

Elías waggled his eyebrows.

"Can’t help it, Mal. A breathtaking woman standing before me, sweat-drenched, radiating that feral charm—”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands, feeling my face burn.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, Elías.”

Elías gasped dramatically and sidled up beside me, his smirk practically roguish.

"No? Do you want to know what is on my mind?”

“Pass,”

I said, swatting at him before he could get any ideas. But then I felt it—Lian’s gaze on me, cautious and lingering. I turned my head just in time to catch him looking away, pretending to be wholly invested in reorganizing his pack.

Goddess help me, if those two didn’t make a move soon, I was going to trap them in a cave together until they figured out their nonsense.

Further ahead, Dom and Kerun had already dropped their packs and claimed a fallen log, settling into the break without complaint. Kerun, ever the restless one, had started stacking smooth stones on top of one another, creating a precarious little tower that immediately caught the alebrije’s attention. With a chirp, the creature leapt from Malakai’s shoulder and scurried toward him, knocking the whole stack over with a flick of its tail.

With the alebrije occupied, I turned back to Elías, who was still loitering like a fly buzzing too close to my ear. Inspiration struck.

“Heavens,”

I gasped, clutching my chest like a scandalized noblewoman.

"Did you see that? I think Lian just cut his hand on one of those spiked trees.”

“What?!”

Elías whirled toward Lian so fast I thought he might sprain something.

"Li-Li, are you okay? What happened?”

His voice was frantic as he rushed to Lian’s side, hands already reaching to use his Curador magic.

Lian blinked in confusion.

"What are you—?”

I smirked in satisfaction as Elías fussed over him, inspecting his hands, his arms, practically his entire being for any sign of injury.

A low chuckle made me glance back at Malakai. He was watching me, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, his violet eyes gleaming with quiet approval.

“What?”

I asked, fighting my own grin.

“I thought I told you not to meddle,”

Malakai said, popping a guava fruit into his mouth.

“It was either this or tying them together with their faces pressed together,”

I said, laughing as Elías continued to hover, fussing like a worried mother hen.

"Look at them,”

I added as I tilted my head as I watched the pair in absolute confusion.

"They’re literally the only people who don’t know how the other feels.”

“Exactly.”

Malakai bit into his fruit, chewing thoughtfully before gesturing to a tree stump. “Sit.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, already bristling at the command.

"No thanks, I’ll stand.”

I expected him to push back, to keep insisting, but instead, he just smirked, slow and lazy, like he already knew how this game would end.

"Whatever you say, mu?eca.”

My breath caught. The way he said it—smooth, teasing, rolling off his tongue like a secret—made something coil in my stomach.

He patted his pockets, found a spearmint leaf, and popped it between his teeth, all while his eyes dragged over me from head to toe in quiet assessment.

It should have irritated me. Instead, a thrill raced up my spine.

What is wrong with me?

I stuck my tongue out at Malakai, expecting him to scoff or roll his eyes like Dom or Mistress Aze would have, but instead, he grinned and stuck his tongue right back at me. The absurdity of it—two grown warriors, covered in sweat and grime, playing like children in the middle of a jungle—sent laughter bursting from my lips before I could stop it.

Malakai’s eyes widened slightly, as if caught off guard by the sound, but then his grin grew wider, and he chuckled along with me, low and rich like a song I wanted to hear again.

A few feet away, Elías was still hovering over Lian, completely ignoring Lian’s protests that he was fine. At the sound of my laughter, Elías paused, glanced over at Malakai and me, then turned back to Lian with a knowing smirk. Lian frowned and nudged him hard with his elbow, his expression clearly saying, ‘mind your own business.’

I quickly sobered, suddenly hyper-aware of myself. Of how easy it had been to let my guard down. Of how dangerous that was.

“You should eat something,”

Malakai said, breaking the silence as he turned his gaze toward the trees, scanning the branches overhead. A slow, pleased smile spread across his lips, and then, with a graceful leap, he plucked a round, plump fruit from the boughs.

A mango.

He turned back to me, holding it out. “Here.”

I hesitated before taking it, turning it over in my hands. Its smooth, dappled green-red skin felt cool against my fingers. I had eaten mango before—perfectly sliced and arranged on a silver plate in the palace courtyard, chilled just right and served with a silver fork.

I had never eaten one like this—raw, unprepared, straight from the tree.

But something inside me—the part that had laughed with Malakai just moments ago, the part that was starting to want to be playful, despite every lesson Mother had beaten into me—wanted to try.

So I did.

I bit straight into it.

The moment my teeth broke the skin, my tongue was assaulted by a bitter, peppery sourness so sharp it made my eyes water. I gagged, coughing as I spat the piece onto the ground, my whole face contorting in disgust.

Malakai roared with laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. Then, the bastard fell onto his back like this was the funniest thing he’d ever seen in his immortal life.

I wiped my tongue against the back of my hand and scowled at him.

"What’s wrong with it?”

I held up the offending fruit like it had betrayed me.

Malakai tried to catch his breath, his shoulders still shaking with amusement.

"You have to cut it open first, mu?eca,”

he choked out between laughs.

Heat pricked my cheeks, part embarrassment, part annoyance.

"I knew that,”

I muttered, reaching for the paring knife I’d stolen.

I didn’t actually know how to cut a mango, but it couldn’t be that hard. I’d seen servants do it a thousand times in the palace.

I stabbed the knife straight into the center of the fruit.

Juice exploded from the wound, squirting onto my face and dribbling down my fingers in thick, sticky rivulets. I froze, stunned, as a droplet slid down the bridge of my nose.

Malakai howled with laughter all over again.

I turned my glare on him, cheeks burning hotter than the sun overhead.

"Oh, shut up.”

“It’s—”

he wheezed, sitting up and wiping at his eyes.

"It’s not a fish, Nix. You don’t have to gut it.”

I scowled, but before I could protest, he plucked the ruined fruit from my hands and drew his own knife, slicing into it with practiced ease. His fingers worked quickly, cutting it into halves, then into a neat crosshatch pattern before flipping one of the halves inside out, exposing the golden cubes of flesh.

He held it up, his violet eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Now this is how you eat a mango.”

I crossed my arms.

"I said, ‘I know’ already,” I lied.

“Of course you do.”

His grin softened into something quieter, something warmer. Then, to my absolute horror, he lifted the mango toward my face.

I blinked. Once. Twice. My brain flatlined.

"What . . . are you doing?”

“Feeding you,”

he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Completely unbothered.

“Why?”

His violet eyes danced.

"Because you skipped dinner last night. And you look like you might pass out. So, unless you’d prefer I carry you to Elías and let him shove a tonic down your throat, this is the better option.”

He meant for me to eat straight from his hands.

Absolutely not.

My pride snarled like a cornered beast. I was not about to let this smug, insufferably attractive Hada hand-feed me like I was some dainty royal who needed to be coddled.

I glared at the mango. It glistened with juice, sweet and sticky and far too intimate.

His hand stayed exactly where it was, unmoving. Waiting.

“You’re ridiculous,”

I muttered.

“And yet,”

he drawled, “you haven’t pulled away.”

I wanted to. Las Madres, how I wanted to. But my stomach betrayed me with a growl that echoed between us like a traitorous drumbeat.

Malakai smirked, but his voice softened.

"Just take the bite.”

And there was something about the way he said it—low, coaxing, like he wasn’t asking for compliance, but trust.

I hated him a little for that.

Slowly, carefully, I leaned in. My lips brushed the fruit as I took a bite, careful not to let my mouth graze his fingers.

The mango was sweet. His eyes were sweeter.

And I was in so much trouble.

A startled moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

Malakai went completely still.

My breath hitched, the moment stretching taut between us. The air shifted—dense, charged, humming with something I didn’t dare name.

I swallowed hard, my tongue darting out to catch a stray droplet of mango juice from my lower lip.

His gaze followed the movement like a predator tracking prey.

Something dark flickered in his eyes. Not hunger. Not exactly. Something deeper. More dangerous.

When he spoke again, his voice was rougher, lower, scraped raw.

"Good, huh?”

I nodded, not trusting my own voice.

His thumb dragged absently across the sticky edge of the mango skin, and I knew—knew—if I didn’t move away now, I’d do something stupid.

Like take another bite.

Like wonder what he tasted like.

I cleared my throat and quickly took the mango from his hands, retreating a step back.

“Fine. Maybe you were right,”

I muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

Malakai chuckled, but there was something new in the sound now. Something different.

“Mu?eca,”

he murmured as he licked the sticky juice from his fingers.

"I’m always right.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My thoughts were too tangled, my heart racing too fast.

Instead, I turned away and focused on eating my mango, pretending not to notice the way Malakai was still watching me.

The moment my marca seared against my skin, I knew something—or someone—was approaching. I barely had time to process the warmth before a shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see Dom storming toward us, his expression thunderous. His hazel eyes flicked from me to Malakai, narrowing sharply, like he’d just caught us committing some terrible crime.

His gaze landed on the mango in my hand—the mango I had just eaten from Malakai’s hands—and something ugly twisted in his face.

“Are you two done?”

he demanded, his voice tight, like he was holding something back.

Malakai raised a brow.

"We were just refueling.”

Dom scoffed.

"Yeah, well, you look done.”

His teeth ground together as his glare dropped back to the fruit, as if it had offended him.

"We have a lot of ground to cover if we want to get out of this jungle before hurricane season.”

Malakai blinked at him, then at me. His fingers flexed around the other half of the mango, and I swore I saw a faint flush creeping up the tan skin of his neck, like he’d just realized what Dom had walked in on.

He quickly wiped his hands off on his pants, then handed me the remaining fruit. The tips of his fingers brushed against mine, and my marca pulsed—not with warning, but with something else. Something warmer.

Malakai hesitated for half a breath longer than necessary before stepping away. “Alright,”

he called to the others.

"Pack up. We’re moving.”

The alebrije scampered back to my side, sniffing at the mango with a curiosity that made my lips twitch. I plucked a square of fruit from the grid and held it out. The little creature snatched it with glee, swallowing it whole before looking up at me for more, its fluffy tail swishing in excitement.

“Here,”

I murmured, setting the rest of the mango on the ground.

"Take the rest.”

Xixi—though I hadn’t quite settled on the name—let out a delighted chitter before digging in, its tiny nose dripping with sticky juice.

A chuckle came from my side, and I turned to find Lian watching me, amusement lighting his usually solemn features.

"You know,”

he said, stroking his chin in mock contemplation.

"You do have to name it now.”

I rolled my eyes as I shouldered my pack, already regretting my promise to name it if the creature stuck around.

"I was thinking of calling it Xixi.”

Lian raised a brow. “Not bad.”

“But I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl. Or if alebrijes have genders.”

Lian tilted his head.

"Why not just ask it?”

I blinked at him.

Right. I could do that.

A slow smile crept onto my lips as I crouched beside the little alebrije. It had nearly finished the mango, its whiskers sticky, its large blue eyes blinking up at me expectantly.

“What do you think, little one?”

I asked.

"Do you like the name Xixi? Is that okay?”

The alebrije’s eyes went comically wide, its entire body perking up before it leapt onto my shoulder, chittering excitedly in my ear.

I laughed, running a hand down its sleek fur.

"I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

Lian chuckled, glancing between me and the little creature.

"Looks like you’ve made a friend.”

My fingers stilled for a fraction of a second in Xixi’s fur.

A friend.

It wasn’t a word I was used to. Not in the palace. Not in the Red Tower.

But . . . I liked the sound of it.

Before I could dwell on the thought, my gaze drifted toward the front of the group, where Malakai had resumed his position as leader. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, strands clinging to the nape of his neck from sweat. His broad shoulders flexed as he adjusted the strap of his pack, the muscles in his arms shifting with ease.

My throat tightened.

I shouldn’t be looking at him like this.

I shouldn’t be feeling anything at all.

Especially not the strange, fluttering warmth that settled in my chest when I remembered the way he’d looked at me earlier. The way his lips had parted ever so slightly when I’d taken that first bite of mango. The way his fingers had lingered when he handed me the rest.

I shoved the thought aside, quickening my pace.

I had bigger things to worry about than the way Malakai made my marca burn in a way that had nothing to do with warning.