“Didn’t you see her when you visited the circus earlier in the week?”

“I did.” She swallowed, her throat working as if trying to force down a rock. “But I didn’t pay her much mind. Never thought I might have to ride her.”

“C’mon.” I gestured toward the ring with my chin. “Let’s go sit down and eat dinner. It’ll give you time to watch her and start getting used to the idea.” As if sitting astride a half-mechanical, half-Magical beast was something one could ever get used to. I might as well have suggested she try walking on water. “I barely know you, Karolina, but in our short, um, acquaintanceship, you’ve never struck me as the reluctant type.”

Her gaze jerked away from the glittering unicorn and shot to me. A weak smile played over her lips, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. “Tereza says I’m rash. Impetuous.”

“How about we call you...dauntless?”

Her smile returned, stronger this time. Some of her former pride appeared in the stubborn set of her jaw. “The crowds will have never seen anything like us. We’ll be magnificent.”

“You’ll need a stage name.” I crossed my feet at the ankles and eased down, balancing my tray in my lap. The princess slipped to the ground, setting her supper on the ground beside her. “If you gain as much fame as you hope, you can’t let people know who you really are. Not unless you want Tereza to find you right away.”

She scowled and shoved her spoon into her rice. “I know that.”

I picked up my own spoon and poked at my plate. One of the lumps did, indeed, appear to be a potato. I sighed, relieved to discover at least one familiar ingredient. “You need something glamourous. Mysterious.”

Karolina snorted. “Like what?”

“The Miraculous Mistress Acosta. The Enchanting Gertrude—”

She reached across and pinched my arm. “Give me something elegant, like Melisandre.”

“I’ll bet you my throne that’s not her real name, either.” I spooned up a potato and took a tentative bite. A pungent, unfamiliar, but not entirely unpleasant blend of herbs flavored the sauce. “How about....”

I scooped another spoonful for a second taste as I contemplated names from some of the many books I’d read over the years. “Gloriana? Nerissa? Sophia? Olivia? Angelique? Genevieve?”

“Genevieve.” She fluttered her lids bashfully, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. “I like Genevieve.”

“Then so shall you be.” I waved my hand as though I held a wand and daubed her with a bit of Magic dust. “Henceforth and from now on, you shall no longer be known as Karolina, princess of Prigha. You’ll be the, um, Astounding Genevieve and Ynnnua, her Miraculous Mechanical Unicorn.”

Her blush deepened. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I suspect Falak would say it’s show business.”

“I think....” She paused and swallowed “I think we shouldn’t use Karolina anymore. It’s probably safer if we all forget that name ever existed.”

I nodded and squezed her shoulder. New name, new identity—it seemed like a good idea.

After we finished our supper, I took our dirty dishes to Gepennio’s wagon while Karolina, or Genevieve, made friends with Ynnua and attempted to saddle her. By the time I returned, she’d managed to mount the mechanical creature, but the rider and horse had made no further progress. At the perimeter of the ring, standing between two torches, Svieta and one of her men watched the proceedings, arms folded over their chests, smirks clearly showing. The princess clicked her tongue, shook the reins, and kicked her heel into the unicorn’s haunch, but the beast only stood in place, still as a statue.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, shooting a hateful glare at the little round-bellied tinkerer. “Has she run out of fuel?”

Svieta threw her hands out at her sides, shrugged, and responded in another language. Whatever she’d said, Genevieve hadn’t understood it any better than me. The princess grunted and shook a fist at the tinker, which only made her laugh. After crossing the ring, I stopped at the unicorn’s side. Carefully, I set my palm against Ynnua’s jointed neck. Having expected cold hard metal, I flinched at the lifelike warmth radiating from her brass flesh. Inching forward, I eased around to her head and stroked a soft touch over her nose. The unicorn responded with a sigh that sounded as though it had come from somewhere far, far away.

“My goodness,” I crooned. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you?” Her great golden eyes rolled, and she whickered again. “I wonder if you’ve ever been ridden before.”

“She hasn’t.” Falak appeared at the edge of the ring like a wraith. “Or at least she hasn’t in a very long time.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Then we’ll have to start at the beginning.” I motioned for Genevieve to give me the reins. She scowled until her bottom lip poked out, but she relinquished her control. Slipping the leads over the unicorn’s neck, I gathered the lines in one fist and gave them a gentle tug while clicking my tongue. “Come, m’lady. Let’s walk, shall we?”

Tentatively, Ynnua started forward, one hesitant step after another. Genevieve clenched her hands around the extended pommel on her saddle and gritted her teeth. On her own horse, the princess rode like a dream of beauty and grace, but on the unicorn’s back, she looked like a frightened child who had never sat astride before. “Relax,” I hissed. “You know how to ride. Let her know you know what you’re doing. Don’t let her sense your anxiety.”

“Sense my anxiety?” Genevieve scoffed. “It’s a machine.”

I studied Ynnua’s big golden eye and the way her head bobbed in time with her steps—the flick of her tail and the heaving of her sides that seemed almost like breathing. “I wouldn’t be so sure. There’s more to this circus and its people than what they’ve let us see.”

Genevieve’s grasp on the pommel eased. “If she’s not merely a machine, what is she?”

“I don’t know, but I’d certainly like to find out.” The secret of the animals, of Falak’s arm and his wounds, of his family’s history and origins, swirled about like a mysterious fog, permeating every thread and filament of the circus. The desire of wanting to know everything grated like a gnawing hunger. I lowered my voice so only she could hear. “The ringmaster holds on to his secrets as though they were golden coins. I’m not sure he’ll tell us unless we give him something valuable in return.”

“I don’t have anything he wants,” she said.

“Neither do I. But when I do....” When I did, Falak would drown under the flood of questions I was itching to ask him.

We ambled around the ring until Genevieve’s anxiousness eased and her posture relaxed. We continued until the unicorn’s reluctance faded and she plodded along dutifully. I slipped the reins over her neck and handed them to the princess. Stepping aside, I let the two go on alone, and they continued their slow, steady pace.

Falak joined me at the perimeter of the ring. Night had fallen, but the torchlight provided more than enough illumination to reveal the exasperation on his face. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

He flung a hand out toward the unicorn and rider. “At this pace, they’ll never be ready for a show by the time we reach Barsava.”

I sucked my teeth, making a reproachful sound. “It’s too soon to judge, ringmaster. Have a little faith.”

“Faith is expensive, and rarely worth the cost.”

I said nothing because he was right, and I couldn’t disagree.

Chapter 14

A week after their initial meeting, the princess and her unicorn had made peace with each other. I stood beside Falak outside another impromptu riding ring somewhere along the road to Barsava, watching the rider and her mount trot around with surefooted determination. The princess had managed a few simple tricks: riding while standing on Ynnua’s back; performing a brief but unsteady handstand in the saddle, but nothing like the vaulting routine she’d demonstrated the morning of her impromptu audition.

Her efforts had attracted other onlookers, including Camilla Bianchi, who stood in the shadows with her little granddaughter, or great-granddaughter, perhaps. Their eyes followed horse and rider around and around the ring, and the little girl applauded each of the princess’s meager successes.

Falak shifted his weight as he studied Genevieve’s performance. “It’s not nothing, but it’s also not enough. The audience will demand a refund if this is all she has to give them.”

“It’s only been a week,” I said. “They’ve come far in such a short time.”

He clicked his tongue. “Not far enough.”

“It’s not something they can hurry. She fell last night and was lucky she didn’t break anything. Ynnua is very skittish.”

A muscle flexed in Falak’s jaw as he gritted his teeth.

I studied him from the corner of my eye while pretending to focus on the princess. “Tell me how that can be.”

“How what can be?”

“How can a mechanical horse be skittish? That’s not clockwork, that’s emotion, personality, feelings. I know there’s more to these animals than meets the eye.”