A memory emerged from the vault in my mind, and I remembered what Falak had asked of me in return for giving me a job. “Secrets.”

He nodded and squinted at Genevieve. “Indeed. And I rather suspect our dear princess is overflowing with an abundance of that particular resource.”

The princess glared at him, and the muscle in her jaw budged as she gritted her teeth.

“I’ll stand in the face of your sister’s army.” Falak prowled closer to Genevieve. “I’ll tell them I have no idea what happened to you, if you like. But, in return, I expect two things.” He stopped before her and leaned close until his nose was mere inches from hers. He raised one finger. “First, I expect you to do exactly as I say. You’ll take my orders and commands without question or complaint, and you’ll be ready to give a complete and profound performance with the unicorn by the time we reach Barsava.” Genevieve bit her lip and nodded. Falak raised another finger. “Second, I want you to tell me a secret—a very expensive secret. A secret so rich and decadent it costs you a bit of your soul to have to tell it to me. Anything less than that, and you can take your horse and leave this very moment.”

Genevieve swallowed and raised her chin. She bobbed her head, once, and lowered her gaze. “I’ll tell you, on one condition.”

“You’re in no position to demand conditions.”

Her shoulders flinched in a brief shrug. “The condition is: You have to believe me.”

He exhaled a quick, sharp breath. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one else has.”

“I’m not everyone else.”

Genevieve nodded again, and her throat worked as though dredging the words up from some deep place inside her. “My sister and I, as you know, are the descendants of the Lords of Ore.”

“That’s no secret,” Falak muttered. I pinched his shoulder. He scowled and rubbed his arm, but clamped his lips shut.

“The last of our ancestors to have any real powers—” She paused and gave Falak a wary look as if expecting another interruption. He motioned for her to continue. “The last in our family to have powers was our great-grandfather. He could manipulate silver, gold, lead, iron, copper, tin, any metal or mineral. Bonhemm was a rich country because of it.”

“We know this, princess.” He rolled a hand. “Get to the point.”

She squinted at him and scowled. “Since we’ve lost that ability, we’ve lost a source of easy income. We still have mines, but they aren’t as productive. Bonhemm’s coffers are greatly reduced. Tereza’s desperate to change that, desperate to reclaim our heritage, the birthright of our forefathers.”

“How desperate?” he asked.

Genevieve raised her shirttails and turned in a complete circle, exposing the pale flesh of her stomach and back. Puckered pink scars and dark marks marred her skin so that only a few small patches of healthy, unmarked tissue remained. An involuntary gasp escaped my throat. She pointed to a series of black marks over her ribs. “Tattoos, brands, cuttings.... Those are only the tortures that you can see.” She lowered her shirt. “You can’t see the number of times I’ve been near death from being forced to swallow all manner of poisons, potions, and treatments of Magical spells so dark and obscure that Otokar himself suffered in the execution of them. He’d risk his own life for her.”

My mouth fell open as wide as my jaw allowed. Disgust and horror rolled through my stomach like a pod of angry sea monsters, churning bile and acid until it rose in my throat. I had no words, though. No words to express my outrage and horror at all she’d been forced to suffer.

“They did this to you for what?” Falak asked. “To try to reawaken your powers?”

She nodded. “My sister and her Magician wouldn’t dare experiment on themselves, now, would they? They couldn’t afford the risk. But me...?” She slammed her eyes shut and shook her head viciously. Her throat worked like a water pump. Once she’d regained her composure, she opened her eyes. “I’m expendable. Tereza was the heir. I am the spare, but they spared me nothing.”

Falak had pressed his lips into a hard line, and deep lines scored his brow. His nostrils flared, working like an angry bull. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough. “I take it their experiments were fruitless.”

Genevieve laughed, but it was cold, hard, and ugly. “She’s gained nothing, and I lost nearly everything.”

“How?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve met monsters who wore masks of kindness and gentility before, but Tereza...” My mind spun, trying to rectify the princess’s confession with the beautiful empress who had extended such kindness to me. But Jackie and Ruelle Thibodaux had also worn masks of refinement to cover their depravity. Even Lord Daeg, to some, must have seemed a great and generous master.

“Her conviction, her belief in the righteousness of her cause, overrules any guilt or shame she might have. She’s so beautiful and generous because she’s utterly convinced she’s doing the right thing for our family and for the future of Bonhemm.”

“But she’s not sacrificing herself,” I said. “She’s sacrificing you—her own sister. She should be protecting you, but instead she’s destroying you for her own gains. How can she not see?”

She bared her teeth and snarled. “Not everyone can be so honorable as you, Evie. So upstanding, so self-sacrificing.”

“I didn’t mean—”

She slashed a hand through the air, cutting me off. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want apologies or excuses. And sure as the Shadowlands, I don’t want your pity.” She stiffened her spine and raised her chin. “I got away from there. I made a plan, and I escaped. You can send me packing, Falak. But I’ll be damned if I go back to the castle with my sister and her vile sorcerer.”

The ringmaster snarled. “Let her bring her armies. You belong to this circus now, Genevieve. You’re ours, and we don’t easily let go of what belongs to us.”

The princess raised a hand to her mouth. Tears rose in her eyes, trembling there without spilling. “You...” She gasped. “You believe me?”

“Who would make up such a lie?”

“I’ve been accused of it before.”

Falak sneered. “I told you I’m not like everyone else.” He threw his shoulders back and looked down his nose at us. “I think we’ve all had enough for one night. Get to bed, ladies. You have a long day of work and practice before you tomorrow. I might be sympathetic to your situation, but I don’t give charity.”

With that he collected his lantern, spun on his heel, and strode away. Svieta, still clutching my cloak like a beloved pet, grabbed the other lantern and trotted after him. Saying nothing, I looked at Genevieve and studied her, searching for a clue about what reaction she wanted from me. She’d bared her emotions to the same extent as someone who had opened their skin, exposing nerves, veins, and muscle. She was undoubtedly raw and hurting, and any further interaction with her would require finesse. Like a wounded animal, she returned my stare with a harsh gaze, as if waiting for me to make the wrong move so she could attack.

I was smarter than that, though. Instead of saying anything, I simply nodded.

She narrowed her eyes into a wary expression, but she nodded back.

I mimicked Falak’s decisive departure, spinning on my heel and striding toward the costumes wagon. Moments later, she climbed the stairs behind me, and we fell into our beds without another word.

Genevieve dozed off right away. The hours of work and practice followed by a kidnapping, a harrowing confession, and the emotional release of being believed must have taken a toll on her. In the silence of our little room, I listened to the rhythm of her heavy breathing as my thoughts drifted to Gideon and Marlis. I’d left them, trusting in the safety and protection of Prigha’s castle and its inhabitants. After Genevieve’s revelations, however, my confidence in their security had dissolved. Would Tereza use them as leverage to reclaim her sister if she suspected I was complicit in the princess’s escape?

My heart ached as though some invisible fist had clenched around it and squeezed. Was this what it would be like to be queen—having few options, most of them being bad, but having to choose one anyway while hoping for the fewest casualties? A little voice whispered in my ear, condemning me for leaving Gideon and Marlis behind to save myself, but my father’s words drowned it out. “A ruler cannot afford to doubt herself,” he’d said. “She must be decisive, always. She must choose a path and commit to making it work.”

I’d chosen this path, and regardless of my worries for Gideon and Marlis, I had to make it work.

But that’s so much easier said than done.

Chapter 18

Genevieve had already dressed and left our wagon by the time I awoke the next morning. After collecting a bucket of water from the cook wagon, I met the princess at the back door of the menagerie cart that Adaleiz and Mika were now calling home. Dark, puffy bruises underscored her eyes, and sweat dampened her shirt collar. Mika stood beside her, sides heaving. “You went riding?” I asked.

She nodded. “I woke early and couldn’t get back to sleep. Besides, Mika needed the exercise.”

I unlatched the wagon door and Adaleiz scampered out, eager to stretch her legs and nibble at a patch of roadside grass. Inside the cart, I poured water into the horses’ pails and opened a bag of feed, though if Adaleiz wanted to graze, I’d let her. The roughage was better for her than grain alone.

“If we really are going to be on the road long-term,” I said, “we’ll need to figure out a way to feed them better. They need hay.”

“And fresh air and sunlight.”

We had made a regular routine of letting them out to graze in the evenings, but leaving them out all night risked attracting predators and thieves. The time I might have spent with Adaleiz was now dedicated to Sher-sah. Again, I wondered how something as simple as catching a ride with a circus to Varynga had become so complicated so quickly.

We let the horses wander as long as possible, but when Gepennio’s cook wagon shuddered to life, we hurried to put Adaleiz and Mika away. The rest of the morning we worked and washed in silence. If the princess wanted to discuss the previous night’s revelations, I was open to talking, but I left it to her to bring it up. As the day passed, however, she never mentioned her sister or Otokar. Not that I blamed her. Yesterday she’d opened a wound that would undoubtedly be slow to heal.

That night, at dinner, Genevieve and I joined Bashaya and her snake. Without prompting from me, the princess greeted the snake charmer and they fell into a conversation of quiet mutterings, which I presumed was about our discovery of the emerald ring.