“Of course I can. It’s not the first time I’ve survived on my own. I have to find my thunder, and I can’t risk losing you and Gideon while I do it.”
“Maybe Otokar can help you. Did you ever ask him?”
I paused as her suggestion triggered a thought. Vanessa had said Le Poing Fermé was using its power to inhibit my connection to the thunder, but perhaps another Magician could reverse whatever they had done.
Speaking of Otokar worked like a spell because he threw open the door and strode into our sitting room, followed by two sturdy groomsmen carrying Gideon’s limp body between them. Tears burned in my throat, but I swallowed them and hurried to his side. “How is he?” I asked.
“Well enough, considering.” Otokar pointed to Gideon’s dark doorway. “Put him in there. Remove his weapons and strip his clothes.” The groomsmen nodded and trundled Gideon into his bedroom. “He has several bad burns I must treat to prevent infection. I do not know the state of his internal injuries, but I will do my best for him.” The Magician squeezed my arm. “Fear not, my lady. Your guardian shall be restored to you as good as new.”
I met the Magician’s dark eyes. “He’s more than my guardian.”
He nodded. “That is obvious to anyone who has seen the two of you together.”
“As long as I’m powerless, I’m a danger to him—to all of you. Vanessa said Le Poing Fermé was the source of my problems. They’ve done something to weaken my connections to the storms. If they’re using Magic, is that something you can counteract?”
A muscle flinched beneath Otokar’s eye. Tight lines formed around his mouth. “Le Poing Fermé is the most powerful Magical cabal in all of the Continent. Perhaps in all the world. What you are asking of me, of one lone man, is highly unlikely.” He narrowed his gaze and stared into me the way he had the day I first met him—as if he could see my soul. “I am strong, yes? I am powerful. But I am one man, and I do not wish to bring the wrath of Le Poing Fermé upon me or my lady. I can do many things, but defeating their Magic is beyond me. The only ones who might have the strength and numbers to do what you ask is the Council of Magic.”
“Council of Magic? I don’t know what you mean.”
“The governing body over all Magicians.”
I hadn’t been aware that such a thing existed. “Where do I find them?”
He shook his head. “You only find them if they want you to find them. To request an audience, you must ask a Magician to intercede on your behalf, and even then, they still might refuse. I am sorry I cannot do more for you, Evie. I can heal Gideon, though. And that is what you should let me do.”
“You could contact the Council on my behalf.”
Otokar shook his head. “Evie, you do not understand what you ask. A cabal as powerful as Le Poing Fermé does not exist without strong support in the Council—likely Thibodaux’s influence runs deep and wide. Even if I made introductions for you, I am certain you would find mostly hard hearts and deaf ears. As I said, interfering with Le Poing Fermé could make my lady, and her throne, a target. That is not a risk I am willing to take without a very compelling motive.”
I understood what he was implying: he believed involving himself in my situation wasn’t a good enough reason to risk endangering Tereza, and I couldn’t blame him. His only duty was to protect her and her throne. I swallowed, easing the burning in my throat. Some of my discomfort came from the damage inflicted by the smoke and fire, but fear and desperation had caused the worst of it. I scowled but nodded. “Do what you can for Gideon, please. I’ll take care of myself.”
I stopped long enough to grab my Thunder Cloak before heading out the door. Marlis hurried behind me. “You’re going to walk away from him? From us?”
“It’s for his own good.” I refused to look at her. “Yours, too. You’ll see to his care. You’ll make sure he’s well, won’t you?”
“Evie, please don’t go.”
The tears in her voice wrenched my heart, but I shook off my grief and picked up my pace. Don’t feel it. Harden yourself. Do what’s best for them, no matter what. When I reached the stairway leading to the main floor—to the exits, to escape—I allowed myself one look at Marlis’s desperate face as she lingered in the hallway. “When he wakes up, tell Gideon I’ve gone to see the circus.”
“Circus?” Her face crumpled, showing her confusion.
I nodded and turned toward the stairs. “He’ll know what it means.”
BOOK TWO
THE TAMING OF LIONS
Chapter 10
Undetected, unscathed, and without further interference from Le Poing Fermé, Adaleiz and I reached the periphery of Le Cirque de Merveilles Mécanique in time to witness a small group of laborers disassembling the main tent. In the light of a circle of lanterns and blazing torches, they removed the exterior skirting, folding the massive swath of striped fabric as they untied it from its frame. Besides the workers and a few performers strolling to and from their wagons, the field was empty. The circus’s spectators had departed long ago, and only the detritus from their visit—ticket stubs, wrinkled handbills, spilled popcorn, and confetti—swirled about like tiny circus tumbleweeds.
A sudden gust of wind grabbed a loose fold of fabric and ripped it away as the workers reached to untie the next section. The tent whipped and snapped. A tall, slim figure darted in, shouting commands as he grabbed the loose ends. Falak, in his jodhpurs and white shirt, strained to keep the striped bundle under control as the winds lashed at him. More men fell in beside him, grabbing armfuls of the loose skirting as fast as the wind could unspool it.
Falak cried out in a foreign tongue—an obvious curse. I slid from Adaleiz’s saddle and, after tying her reins around the spoke of a massive wagon wheel, strode to his side and grabbed a bundle of skirting, balling it in my arms. “Brauchst du hilfe?” I asked. Can I help?
Falak flinched and gaped at me. “Evie? What’re you doing here?”
“I’ve come to see a man about a job.”
He arched a single black eyebrow. “A job?”
“I thought perhaps you could use a laborer.” I grinned, flashing my teeth and batting my lashes. “I’m good at laundry. Okay, at darning. I can wash dishes, too.”
He snorted and shoved his bundle of red and white stripes into my arms. “Keep this off the ground.”
Another gust of wind grabbed the tent skirting and blew it out like a sail, sudden and strong, nearly jerking me off my feet. I stumbled and grunted, but managed to keep myself upright. “What should I do with this?”
“Follow me.” He grabbed a loose corner beside me. “Stretch it out. Get it flat. We can’t fold it up with wrinkles.”
Working together, following Falak’s terse commands, the men and I stretched the tent material wide across the field, holding it taut despite the wind’s efforts to rip it from our grasp. Slowly, beginning from the skirting’s free edge, Falak and another man flipped and tucked the fabric in a series of precise folds. I gritted my teeth, and my arms strained from the effort of holding the heavy canvas off the ground while they worked their way toward me.
Falak met my gaze and nodded. I let go, and he folded the skirting, taking up the section I’d been preserving. My arm muscles sang in relief, and I stepped back, watching as the men continued their careful routine. The wind still ripped and roared around us, and the temperature dropped. Humidity flooded the air, promising rain.
“Hurry,” Falak said, panting. “Let’s get this in the wagon before the rain comes. You all know this routine. Move it along, my friends. Move it along.”
A man half Falaks’s height, but twice his width, stepped up and nudged his shoulder. He grunted out something I couldn’t understand, but Falak nodded, handed his section of the huge canvas to him, and turned away. He motioned to me. “Come Evie, let’s see if you really mean what you said when you asked for a job.”
I hurried to his side, jogging to keep up as he strode toward the mechanical animal menagerie. Say that three times fast without getting your tongue tied.
