Young Jaguar, The by Zoe Saadia

the noble
outline of the high cheekbones, the large oval eyes enormous and wide-open, the
generous mouth gaping. It was difficult to stay focused, his head spinning, the
left side of his face numb and on fire. He touched it with his palm, wincing at
the pain in his elbow. It was sticky and warm.
    The second girl, plumed and round-faced began saying
something, her voice loud and high-pitched. She seemed to be screaming.
    “Stop it!” said Chictli sharply, and the noise died
away.
    Another girl winced and brought her palm to her
mouth. There were three of them outside as far as he could judge. Their faces
kept swimming in the semidarkness and he could not tell for sure.
    The princess peered at him, leaning forward, her
large troubled eyes narrowing as if trying to think hard. He knew he had to say
something, something that had better make sense.
    He could think of nothing. He wished his ears would
stop ringing. It was really annoying, that continuous high-pitched sound inside
his head. It disrupted his ability to think.
    Then came another sound seeping through the opening,
muffled but persistent. Someone was banging on the wooden screen somewhere
inside the room.
    Chictli straightened abruptly, her frown deepening.
    “Please,” he whispered when she began to turn away,
his lips swollen and awash with pain.
    “Quick, get behind that podium!”
    She pushed him roughly when he was not quick enough
getting onto his feet, his whole body feeling as if it had been beaten and
dragged through the streets full of small gravel.
    Head reeling, he stumbled toward the podium with a
large golden statue, her push almost sending him sprawling.
    “One word about any of this and I will have you two
flayed!” she said to her maids as the banging on her door became more
persistent. He could imagine them shivering. It was easy to believe her threats;
he didn’t doubt her himself. 
    Would she be tempted to give him away once again?
    A shiver cascaded down his spine as he crouched
behind the gleaming mass of gold, sucking the blood off his split upper lip.
Well, at least this time she would not be lying. He had broken into the
Palace’s grounds, and he had tried to find her.
     
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    Sakuna rocked back and forth, crouching upon the
comfortable mats of her sleeping quarters. She felt she had been there for
days, maybe moons, huddled in the relative safety of her inner rooms, waiting
for him to return.
    He should have been back by now. He should have come
to comfort her. She had to talk to him, to tell him what had transpired, to
warn him, to make sure he was safe and unharmed, to feel his protective arms around
her. She needed him so much, and he was not coming.
    She glanced up at the night sky reflecting outside
the high opening in the wall. The moon shone bright and indifferent. It hadn’t
moved since she’d consulted it last. It was not even midnight. She’d felt it
had to be near dawn.
    Why does it take him so long to come home?
    Nopalli had said they were receiving delegations all
day long. But couldn’t they halt this activity for the duration of the night?
The Tepanec warriors were so fond of their precious night’s sleep. Tecpatl
always preached on that subject, amused with her tendency to stay awake until
after midnight. So where, in the name of the Great Spirits, was he wandering
now, when she needed him most? Those delegations of people streaming into Azcapotzalco
from all over the Great Lake, eager to pay their respects to its new Emperor,
didn’t they need to rest, too?
    The thought about the delegation brought back her
conversation with Nopalli. Then came the rest of that evening. A new outburst
of tears threatened to take her. She fought it off, afraid to lose control once
again, afraid of the violent trembling that would follow.
    Stop thinking about that, she ordered
herself, clenching her teeth . Let him come home first. Then all will be
well. He would know what to do.
    Would he? Would he do what his