“Will I have to wash those as well?” I asked as he started for Gepennio’s wagon.
“Someone else has that duty tonight, but you may rely on there being plenty for you to do in the morning.” He winked, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the crowd.
I groaned, fell against the grass, and studied the stars. A flock of wispy clouds shrouded the half-full moon. The Aeolus constellation winked at me from a slightly higher position than he had when I’d stared at him from the pirate’s wagon on my way to San Marena. What must my ancestors think of me, now?
A high-pitched tenor joined the band, singing in a foreign tongue. Although the meaning of the words eluded me, the tone sounded playful and animated. I sat up, fingers drumming on my knee in time with the beat, and I watched as individuals, especially the children, peeled away from the crowd and joined in the center of the wagon circle to dance. Linking hands, they stepped in a series of precise formations, sometimes stepping in close, sometimes spreading farther out. They let go and twirled around in pairs before coming together again as a group. More dancers joined until only a few outliers and I remained, observing, clapping, whistling and cheering.
I caught a glimpse of a dark-skinned young woman on Falak’s arm, her black curls swirling around her head like an ebony crown glowing in the torch and lantern lights. She stared up at him, grinning, admiration showing clearly on her face. I studied her closer, her features tickling something in my memory. A thought clicked into place, and I leaned back, peering at the mural on the wagon beside me. The figure balancing atop the tightrope closely resembled Falak’s dance partner. I examined the real-life girl again, picturing her in tights and striped skirts.
Melisandre, I presume. She looked like a doll, twirling in Falak’s embrace. I snorted and rose to my feet. No one would ever make that analogy of me. While Melisandre was obviously built for poise and balance, I was constructed from sturdier stock—made for controlling storms and wielding lightning. If I was jealous of her, it was only because she had a place, a home, and a purpose, and not because of the handsome young man dancing at her side. I had my own handsome young man...or, I did have one. I wouldn’t blame Gideon if he hated me for abandoning him, but I’d leave him a thousand times over if it kept him safe and alive.
Thoughts of Gideon chased away my good mood. I left the festivities, seeking solitude in which to brood. Winding my way through the wagons, I breached the exterior ring, and the music faded to a soft hum. In the distance, the humpback outline of a foreign mountain range rose like a great black wall, and I wondered if we would have to cross over them before reaching our next destination. A stiff breeze swept past, tossing loose strands of my hair about. The meadow grasses swayed, rustling against my shins. I closed my eyes and savored the fresh air, stillness, and quiet.
But a girl’s terrified shriek rose and shattered the night.
I spun around, eyes wide, searching for the source of the scream. Several yards away to my right, a massive shadow traced in moonlight roared and sprang forward. The girl screamed again. She stumbled, lost her balance, and fell to her rear. Reflexively, I reached for lightning, ready to illuminate the sky or attack if necessary. Instead, I found only the sensation of stepping off a cliff and falling into nothingness.
The beast lunged, trapping the girl between his forelegs. I raced toward the fight without a clue of what to do, but the urge to help, to try something, anything, compelled me. The beast’s oil and hot metal scent saturated the air as he raised a paw, starlight flickering on brass claws, and his victim shrieked as she scrambled to escape him. He slashed, batting her to the ground.
The beast—a lion?—roared again, and his victim rolled over, covering her head with her arms as he lunged down.
“No, Sher-sah!” Falak burst from the shadows before I’d reached the fight, and he threw himself at the lion as it attacked. Something squealed like rending metal, and I cried out, horrified at having witnessed Falak’s certain mauling. The ringmaster groaned and fell to his knees as the lion released him and froze, as still as a statue. My heart battered against my ribs as I scrambled to his side.
“Falak?” I grabbed his shoulder and peered in his face, although the pale moonlight had draped him in thick shadows.
He released a deep breath. “I’m okay.”
“But that thing nearly tore off your arm!”
He chuckled, but it ended in a groan. “I have one to spare, don’t worry.”
“What?” I began, but Falak turned to the lion.
“Back off, Sher-sah,” he said. The creature’s giant shadow shifted and backed away with preternatural grace and a subtle clicking of gears. The figure at the lion’s feet whimpered, but rolled to her knees and scrambled away from us. Although the darkness concealed her face, something about her seemed familiar.
Falak swayed. I steadied him as he rose to his feet. “I’m okay, Evie. It’s not as bad as you think.”
A small crowd had arrived bearing lanterns, and the light revealed the truth. His shirtsleeve had been torn away, exposing the gleam of brass that was a bit crumpled and mangled, but still recognizably shaped like a young man’s arm.
My mouth fell open, and I nearly swooned. Someone in the crowd snickered, jolting me from my stupor. “Would someone please explain?”
“Svieta,” Falak said, “see to Sher-sah and meet me in my wagon.” A stout, middle-aged woman with thick gray hair twisted into a bun separated from the crowd, responding to Falak’s request with a silent bow. “You.” He pointed to the lion’s victim. He crooked his finger and issued an order in Bonhemmish. The stranger, in a hooded cloak that cast deep shadows on her face, dipped her head in acknowledgement.
Limping forward, Falak proved he’d injured more than his arm.
“Where are we going?” I asked, giving him my shoulder for support. He leaned on me, although I suspected he regretted needing my help. The stranger followed us without resistance or hesitation, and I wondered what Falak had said to gain her obedience.
“I have questions for our visitor. You’ll have questions for me. It could make for a long night, and I’d rather sit down while we sort out the details.”
“But—”
“No buts. Get me to my wagon and we’ll talk.”
I swallowed my protests and held him steady as he directed me to his wagon, which turned out to be an austere compartment paneled in dark wood. A carpet woven in gold and burgundy patterns covered the floor, and a heavy desk sat against one wall, ledger books stacked on every corner. Instead of taking the padded chair at his desk, he crumpled onto the bed arranged at the end of the room.
When I was certain he wouldn’t pass out, I turned to face the girl who had silently followed us in from the meadow. My mouth fell open again as surprise washed over me in a hot, prickling wave. “Karolina?”
A wry smile crossed her lips. She dropped her hood and bent in a brief and lazy curtsey. “Lady Thunder.”
“What are you doing here?” I studied the princess, looking for signs that she’d been hurt or mistreated in any way. Other than the dust and wrinkles marring her black slacks and long cloak, and the strands of hair that had escaped from her braid, she appeared as lovely and well-kept as the first night I met her. I eyed her cloak again, studying the embroidery embellishing the neckline and hood. Otokar’s robes had featured a similar collection of shapes and symbols. “Does your sister know where you are?” I motioned to her attire. “Does Otokar?”
“Stop,” Falak demanded in Dreutchish. He grimaced and tugged off a glove with his teeth. He worked at the buttons at his collar. “Explain.”
I pursed my lips and flung my hand out, gesturing to the wayward princess. “Falak Savin, it’s to my great consternation that I present to you Princess Karolina, sister of Křisnová Tereza Jagiellon—Empress of Bonhemm.”
Blood rushed into Falak’s cheeks, coloring his face a deep maroon. “What in the bloody Shadowlands?”
“As you’ll recall, she went missing from the castle several days before. Apparently, you’ve been harboring a stowaway.”
Karolina rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t hiding. I’ve been following at a distance.”
“Then what were you doing prowling around the outskirts tonight?”
She wagged a shoulder. “Got curious. Wanted to see the dancing.”
“It doesn’t matter what you were doing.” Falak was nearly frothing at the mouth. “You’re going home before the empress brings her royal guard down on my head. I won’t be blamed for kidnapping her sister.”
She straightened her spine, stiffened her jaw, and folded her arms over her chest. “You won’t do any such thing. I am a princess, and no one tells me what to do.”
