I stepped wrong and stumbled, falling against Mika. He snorted his displeasure. “What do you know about that?”
“The castle has ears, Evie. And not everything is always at it seems. Especially not when it comes to my sister.”
“What do you mean?”
Karolina didn’t answer, and my prodding and pleading landed on deaf ears. I gave up my inquisition, and neither of us spoke until we spotted the flickering lights of the torches burning in the circus’s camp. “I won’t go back to Prigha,” the princess said. “If you try to make me, I’ll run away again.”
Dismissing her defiance as an act of adolescent rebellion would have been easy, but that explanation didn’t sit well with me. Beneath her petulance and sarcasm, I sensed an undercurrent of something that seemed a lot like fear. “You keep saying that, but you won’t tell me why. If you’re in danger—”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“No. You don’t. But I might be more inclined to help you if you did.”
“I already told you, I don’t need your help.”
“You think you don’t, but yes, you do. And you’re going to get it whether you like it or not. Or until you tell me the real reason you’re running away.” My concern for her might have appeared selfless and noble, but, truthfully, I was protecting my interests. Whatever secrets she was hiding might have had the potential to harm Marlis and Gideon. One way or another, she would have to tell me the truth. Reclaiming my powers meant nothing compared to ensuring the safety of the people I cared about most. “Promise me you’re not running away from something ridiculous.”
She sniffed. “Like what?”
“A broken heart.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Are Marlis and Gideon in danger?”
“Like you care. You ran away. You left them behind so you could find your ridiculous Fantazikes.”
Heat bloomed into my face, revealing my guilt. My embarrassment. My shame. “I was more of a danger to them if I stayed.”
“So, you walked out?”
I shook my head. “You don’t know what happened. You were gone before the attack.”
She froze. “What attack?”
Quickly, I summarized the story for her, starting with the awkward dinner and ending with Vanessa’s fiery attack in the labyrinth and Gideon’s injuries. The princess’s eyes went big and round as I talked. “I left him there with Otokar. He promised to try his best to heal him. It was Gideon’s only chance.”
“Do you think—” She stopped. “Will he be all right?”
“I thought he would be. Or that he stood a better chance of recovering if I left him with Otokar, but if you ran away from the castle, Gideon and his sister may be in danger after all.” Coldness stirred in my blood. I’d accused the princess of not thinking things through before she ran away, but I was also guilty of acting on impulsive urges.
“In danger from my sister? I think not. Gideon and Marlis have nothing she wants. But if Le Poing Fermé wants them badly enough, I’m not sure Tereza will have the backbone to stand up to them.”
I’d feared the same thing, but staying in Prigha would have brought them certain danger. Running was my only hope for drawing Le Poing Fermé away. I figured my plan was equally as likely to be successful as it was to fail, and that was no comfort at all.
We hiked the perimeter of the wagon train until we reached the massive set of carts where Svieta stored her mechanical menagerie. The animals’ wagons were nearly as big as the cars on a steam train. Adaleiz’s pale nose poked out from one cart’s rear window, and her nostrils flared as she scented the air. After unlatching the clasp, I hauled the double doors open, and a clockwork creature from somewhere in the gloom clacked and whirred before falling silent. Without asking, Karolina helped me unload the ramp and position it so Mika could climb aboard, and the docile horse trotted in without complaint.
After feeding the horses several fistfuls of grain and checking their water supply, we closed the wagon doors and wished them good night. “You can sleep with me in the costumes wagon,” I said, “but it’s a tight fit. Still, I guess it’s better than sleeping with a lion.”
Karolina snorted. “I just hope you don’t snore.”
Chapter 13
The next morning, I woke up alone. The remnants of Karolina’s sleeping pallet—her blankets and pillow—were folded neatly, suggesting she’d awoken before me and left the wagon rather than being stolen away during the night by bandits or a wayward mechanical lion. Maybe she went to check on Mika.
Before I could verify my hypothesis, a shout went up outside. More excited voices joined in, and I tugged on my boots and scurried through the wagon’s rear door the same moment Mika galloped through the clearing at the center of the wagon circle. On his back stood Karolina, fully erect, as straight and proud as an ancient oak. She wore a bright-red tutu and striped stockings. Someone’s been raiding the costume supply.
Falak, in an unbuttoned shirt, leaned through his wagon’s doorway, watching. Suspenders dangled loose against his thighs, and his dark hair stood up in cowlicks. Svieta had either fixed his arm or come up with a replacement during the night because the ringmaster gripped either side of his doorway with two gloved hands. He held his mouth in a harsh line, but his eyes were glued on Karolina.
Several other circus members stood outside their wagons in various states of dress, and they shouted encouragement or warnings as the princess galloped by them. Karolina ignored the audience, and her intense focus showed in the hard set of her jaw and steady stare. The morning light caught the beading on her dazzling waistcoat and threw out tiny prisms of color, giving her an aura of magic and myth.
Without warning or a gesture revealing her intent, she dropped into her saddle, sitting astride. With a powerful twist, she rolled from her seat, both legs on one side, coming down like an arrow near Mika’s galloping hooves. Karolina’s feet hit the ground for an instant before she vaulted up, throwing herself over her horse’s back. She touched down on Mika’s other side, toes briefly brushing the dirt before she launched herself into the saddle again.
As he blew past me like a four-legged cyclone, I realized Mika wore a modified saddle. Instead of a horn, a thick wooden dowel rose from the pommel. Extra hand grips and stirrups had been stitched to the front and back of the saddle skirt on both sides. The princess must have had it custom-made—I’d certainly never seen anything like it.
As he buttoned up his shirt, Falak climbed down from his wagon and strode to the center of the clearing. He said nothing, but simply raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. Karolina slowed before reining Mika to a stop several feet in front of the young ringmaster. She didn’t dismount, but held her seat and waited.
Silently, Falak sauntered around the horse, sliding his suspenders into place on his shoulders. His gaze slipped over the saddle, scrutinizing every detail. He stopped in front of Mika’s head and looked up at Karolina. “I’d ask you what you thought you were doing, but I think it’s obvious.”
“Your circus needs a trick rider, ringmaster.”
“It’s a mechanical circus, if you hadn’t noticed, princess. No live animals.” He stepped back, studying the rider and her mount again. “Pull off the same tricks on the unicorn, though, and you’ve got yourself a job.”
I flinched. So did Karolina. “Unicorn?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“Her name is Ynnua, and she’s every bit as capable as your horse.”
Karolina’s face crumpled, angry lines forming on her brow and around her mouth. “Mika and I have trained for months. He knows every cue, every command. I can’t replicate that with a machine.”
