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She lowered her hand, her brow pinched with confusion. “What, then?”
“Nero wasn’t stabbed by his guard,” Jacob said. “Some say he committed suicide after the senate declared him a public enemy.”
Her brow pinched further.
“Mr. Roth knows history. He taught it in college. Why would he get it wrong?” he asked her, but he already knew the answer.
“I . . . I don’t know,” Angélica answered in a confused tone.
“So unlike him to be wrong about such a detail. Then I realized his speech wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for you.”
He turned completely around to face her, his emotions conflicted still. She was beautiful. Intelligent. She knew him better than anyone. And that made her betrayal sting all the more. She’d been his Malintzin, his interpreter of American culture, technology, and corruption. He’d turned her into his most capable ally and confidante. They were lovers. He’d given her a gift he’d shared with no one else. The gift of eternal youth. And it still hadn’t been enough to secure her loyalty.
“Jacob, you’re frightening me.”
“Am I? Is it fear or guilt that you feel, Angélica?”
She winced.
“I ordered you to take Mr. Roth to the dungeon with the other prisoners. I was curious what he would say to you when the two of you were alone. So I used a glyph and turned myself invisible and followed you. I followed you.” He held up his hands, as if to take her face between his palms.
Angélica dropped to her knees in front of him. “Forgive me! I beg you! Forgive me!”
He grabbed her head between his palms, pressing against her temples, trying to tame the vengeful wrath that scorched inside his chest. “What have I not given you? You’ve had treasures beyond counting! I gave you your own island, your own resorts, your own power! Was it because I held back my magic? Because I didn’t want you to pay the price that I had to in order to learn it? Was that why you betrayed me?”
She was sobbing uncontrollably now, tears rushing down her cheeks. He released her and stepped back, struggling against the dueling desires to comfort her and kill her.
“Please! Please! Spare me!”
“I cannot spare you!” he shouted at her. “Not after this betrayal. Not with what you know. You doubt that I will win? Even now? Because . . . because Mr. Roth somehow convinced you that I have the brain of a young man?”
She slumped down onto her hands and knees on the circular platform. She choked and sobbed, her entire body trembling with fear.
“And you gave him darts,” Jacob said incredulously. “You gave him . . . darts.” He shook his head, grunting with the absurdity of it. Had she really thought that it would help Mr. Roth escape? Such a pitiful weapon against all the vast resources and power he controlled.
“Pleeease,” she groaned, her head shaking back and forth.
He looked at her, trying to harden himself and regain his feelings of contempt. If he did not destroy her, then he would lose all respect among the jaguar priests.
“You knew that I was not a merciful man. If you wanted mercy, you should have worshipped Kukulkán instead. Not the god of the night sky. The god of divination. The god of temptation. You were going to be my queen. Now I must find another.”
“Make me your servant, then,” Angélica pleaded, gazing up at him with tear-streaked eyes. “Make me the lowest of your creatures. I will do anything . . .”
He was tempted. All the years he’d invested in her . . .
He’d be throwing away a great treasure. Could he cling on to Angélica still? But why should he? She was a cursed treasure.
It felt like his world was unraveling in front of him. Mr. Roth could have been lying about the lights blinking on at the monuments, but if it were true . . .
What if Mr. Roth was right about the prophecy too? What if the Dresden Codex really did herald the return of Kukulkán? No, he wouldn’t think like that. He couldn’t let himself. He had to break the past to create his own future.
Breaking her neck would be too easy. Her torment would be over too quickly. No, he wanted her to suffer, just as he was suffering. Why not give her some false hope before she died?
“I will let the gods of death decide your fate,” Jacob said ruthlessly. “If you leave this cenote alive, then that means even they do not want you. The gods of Xibalba are known for their cunning and treachery, after all. This is your chance, Angélica. Run.”
“Is there nothing I can—?”
“Run!” His voice echoed across the curved stone walls of the cenote. The waters rippled.
