I had been in Tlalocan, the paradise of the Blessed Drowned, only briefly, but this seemed very much like it. Verdant vegetation covering the land, flocks of white birds disturbed by our approach, and the small ponds we passed teemed with fish and newts. Acamapichtli grew ...
As I crossed into the courtyard that had been the centrepiece of Acamapichtli's power – albeit temporarily – I couldn't help but brace myself against protection spells, as if some kind of veil would still remain across the threshold. But nothing happened; I crossed easil...
Though Yayauhqui himself didn't look as though he had any intention of moving: he'd picked up ledgers from his merchant peers before leaving, and he was now sitting cross-legged with the papers spread in his lap, thoughtfully annotating them with a writing reed. It could h...
The river, dark and oily, licks at the ruin of your flesh—at your broken bones—and sings you to sleep in a soft, gentle language like a mother’s lullabies, whispering of rest and forgiveness, of a place where it is forever light, forever safe. You do not rest. You cannot forgive. You are not safe...
Earlier, she had looked preoccupied and uneasy, working the fingers of her good hand into the hollow of her crippled one, as she always did when worried—though she’d shaken her head when Madeleine had asked her what was wrong. Not trusting enough—Madeleine, remembering Oris, fought an urge to ask...