“Have you ever heard the story of the lost Pleiad?” Montes’s fingers are gathering the material of my shirt, lifting it as he talks. I narrow my gaze on him. “If you’re about to lie to me …” Montes has developed a bad habit of teasing me. Apparently I’m gullible. Considering, however, I’m also violent, he never takes it too far. He laughs. “Nire bihotza, I’m not. This is true. Apparently there are seven stars—Seven Sisters—but you can only see six of them in the night sky. The seventh is ‘lost’.” We’re both quiet for a moment while I ponder his words. The night air stirs my hair. Mine and the
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