Xibalba’s eyes, twin pools of shadow, widened. “You would listen?”
“You’re brooding again,” Catrina said without turning around. “It clouds the hall. I can feel the chill from here.” el libro de la vida catrina y xibalba
Ever since their bet over Manolo, Joaquin, and Maria had ended—with Xibalba losing his realm of the Forgotten to the carefree, candle-loving memory of La Muerte—he had been restless. He was still a king, but a king without his cold, silent kingdom. He missed the echo of forgotten sighs. He missed the quiet dignity of oblivion. Xibalba’s eyes, twin pools of shadow, widened
Catrina walked to him and placed a delicate, bony finger under his chin, lifting his gaze to hers. I can feel the chill from here
Xibalba stepped out of a curl of black mist, his jeweled snake scepter clicking against the marigold-paved floor. “I am not brooding. I am thinking.”
And so it was written in a new page of The Book of Life : Not a story of a bet won or lost, but of a balance found. Every evening, the queen of the Remembered and the king of the Forgotten sat side-by-side. And in the space between a forgotten tear and a remembered laugh, they fell in love.
And he missed her arguing with him.