“I might be spoiled,” she said without a backward glance, “but I’m not an idiot.”
***
The princess’s hands were not as delicate as I’d presumed. Possibly her years of riding and working with her horse had toughened her. Whatever the reason, she managed to keep up with me through the day, scrubbing pots in hot water and caustic soap without pleading for a break. She set her jaw, furrowed her brow, and focused on her work, shutting out all my attempts at friendly conversation, answering only when she deemed it necessary.
After stopping for a brief lunch break, we returned to the costumes wagon, and Z’arta greeted us with another pile of freshly laundered items requiring mending. “You ever used a needle before?” I asked when I caught Karolina studying the prickling pincushion.
She glanced up at me, her dark eyes full of arrogance. “Who do you think made my saddle?”
My eyebrows arched high. “You did that?”
“Tereza refused to order one for me.” She shrugged. “I met in secret with a saddle maker from the city. He taught me, let me use his tools.”
I held up a thin linen camisole. A loose bit of lace dangled from its neckline. “This is a bit more delicate than leather crafting.”
She snatched the camisole from me and scowled. “I think I can handle it.”
***
When the circus stopped for the night, having wound itself in its protective circle, Falak greeted us in the supper line. He bowed low, doffing his little cap before rising to his full height again. “Get your supper and take it outside the circle near the animal menagerie’s wagons. Some of the men are setting up a practice arena for you. Ynnua will be there, ready to go.”
Grinning, he backed toward the clearing at the center of the ring. “Don’t make her wait too long for you. Ynnua hates waiting.” He turned and sauntered away, leaving Karolina and I to stare at each other dumbly.
“He speaks of the creatures as though they’re something more than machines,” she said.
I nodded, watching Falak disappear into the growing crowd. Bashaya had emerged from her wagon, and she caught me staring. She flashed a toothy grin as her brass snake slithered around her neck and shoulders. “I’m not convinced they are merely machines.” The line inched forward, and we scooted closer to Gepennio’s serving window. “I think there’s a bit of Magical enchantment involved.”
Karolina stiffened. “I’ve never cared much for Magic.”
“Neither have I. My experiences with Magic have mostly been unpleasant. That probably has more to do with the Magicians themselves, rather than the forces they control. Otokar’s not so bad, though.”
The line shifted again, and the cook’s evening assistant passed us trays loaded with a plate of rice doused in fragrant gravy concealing lumps that were probably meat or vegetables, though it was hard to know for certain. Gepennio had also made more of the rolls and the ket tea he’d served the night before. We took our trays and trudged away from the hubbub, heading for the exterior of the wagon circle and, presumably, to the mechanical unicorn awaiting Karolina in an impromptu riding ring.
Indeed, Falak’s men had staked out a circle in an open patch of low grass beside the road. A sharp sound cut through the night, like the whinny of a perturbed horse, except this cry was hollow and full of echoes. Svieta was leading a glorious brass horse from one of the huge menagerie wagons, and firelight from the torches reflected over her gleaming haunches. Her single golden horn glowed as though it were, in fact, touched by Magic.
Karolina stopped in her tracks beside me. Her mouth hung slightly open as her gaze roamed over the beast prancing on metallic hooves. Svieta led the unicorn toward the center of the torch ring, and her tail, made of very fine cable or wire, tinkled like wind chimes as she flicked it back and forth. A quiet whirr of gears underscored each of her steps.
“H-he wants me to ride that?” The princess clutched her tray until her knuckles showed white beneath her skin.
“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.
