Read Online The Shattered Mountain by Rae Carson - Free Book Online Page B

cheap either. I think that’s why he got it. He didn’t actually
     like the idea of me using it. He just wanted to show off his wealth at a time when all the village children
     were practicing with their slings.”
    Reynaldo studies her thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but . . .”
    Mara raises an eyebrow at him. “A dead priest, no less.”
    His gaze is slightly shifted, as if he can’t quite bring himself to look her in the
     eye. It’s the scar on the corner of her eyelid he’s avoiding, the one her father gave
     her when she was ten years old. “But he was not a good man, was he?” he says.
    “No, he was not.”
    Reynaldo winds up with his sling and throws. His loosed pebble arcs toward the pinecone,
     but drops too soon and thunks against the boulder instead. “One time my má was sick,”
     he says, seeming not to notice how badly he just missed. “Bad sick. And your pá rode
     hard all night to get to our farmstead in time to sit the death watch. He tended her
     himself. Forced her to sip her tea, changed out wet cloths for her forehead. And come
     morning, her fever broke and she was fine.”
    Mara clenches her jaw, not sure how to respond. Yes, her father was known for acts
     of tremendous kindness. She came to see them as pretense. Little deceptions meant
     to cover up the truth of their lives.
    But hearing Reynaldo talk about it, she can’t help but wonder if they were genuine
     after all. In the same way that the best lies have an element of truth, maybe evil
     is made all the more powerful when it is accompanied by the startling presence of
     grace. She says, “He was a good man too. In some ways. That’s what made him so terrifying.”
    Reynaldo stares openly now, as if seeing her scar for the first time. Mara always
     thought it made her look perpetually sad, or at least tired. Until Julio assured her
     it gave her a sultry air, like she had just been thoroughly kissed. What does Reynaldo
     see?
    “Mara!” someone calls out. “Come quick!” The voice is edged with panic.
    She sprints back toward the campsite without a moment’s hesitation, Reynaldo at her
     heels.
    The children are gathered around something. Mara leaps over the fire pit and elbows
     them out of the way, demanding, “What is it? What’s wro . . .”
    It’s Julio. He has fallen over, and his cheek grinds into the earth as he gasps for
     breath. Beside him, a wooden bowl lies overturned in a tiny, muddy puddle of sage
     tea.
    Mara drops to the ground beside him. “Julio?” She places her fingertips at his neck
     and is relieved to find a weak, scattered pulse.
    “He started shaking,” Alessa says, tears in her voice. “Then he dropped his bowl and
     fell over, but he wouldn’t stop twitching, and then—” Someone shushes her.
    Julio’s eyelids flutter open. “Mara,” he whispers. “My Mara.”
    “Is it the pain? I’ll make you some more tea. We need to make sure you’re getting
     enough to drink. Then I’ll—”
    His hand traps hers, brings it against his chest with surprising strength. His skin
     is as hot and dry as the desert sun. “No. Just . . . sit with me, please.”
    She blinks rapidly. “Don’t you dare give up. Don’t you dare .”
    He sighs. “Promise me you’ll—”
    “Yes. Adán. I know. But you have to promise not to give up.”
    Julio tries to speak but can’t. He takes a few breaths. Tries again. “Not him. You. Promise me you won’t hate the world.”
    She shakes her head. “I . . . Oh, Julio.”
    He smiles. “You burn so bright, Mara.”
    He’s too weak to say anything else. They sit there for a moment, staring into each
     other’s eyes. She doesn’t see the Julio in front of her—only the Julio from the meadow,
     carefree and confident, full of exuberant words and all kinds of plans. Her only plan,
     her only hope, was him .
    Then his hand drops away, plops onto the ground where it lies limply. His head rolls
     to the side. The light fades from his