“I mean, I was supposed to wash some dishes, mend some clothes, and bide my time until we reached Varynga. Now, suddenly, I’m involved in a lion taming plot that requires me to become a thief.”
The princess chuckled. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
I squinted at her. “Not the words I would use.”
“Evie? Genevieve?” Falak’s voice rang across the clearing, and I flinched, reacting as though I’d been caught in the middle of planning a jewel heist. Oh, that’s right, I am planning a jewel heist—may my ancestors have mercy on my soul. “Isn’t it time for the two of you to get to work?”
I pushed myself to my feet and dusted debris from my rear as I turned to face the ringmaster, who held a coil of colorful rope that appeared to be made of braided ribbons. “We were getting some professional tips from Bashaya.”
He arched a single dark eyebrow and his nostrils flared. “Were you?”
Genevieve, who had risen to stand beside me, nodded. “We also wanted to pet her snake.”
I choked down a burst of laughter and feigned a coughing fit.
Falak narrowed his eyes at me. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret keeping the two of you together.”
“Don’t worry.” I patted the ringmaster’s shoulder as I strode past. “Genevieve is off to prance about on her pretty pony while I spend the evening trying to convince Sher-sah not to separate my head from my shoulders.”
The princess shot me a dirty look at my “prance about” comment, but she followed me away from Bashaya and her slithering companion. Falak fell into step beside us as we crossed the open wagon circle and headed toward the cart giving home to what must have been the world’s fiercest, and most likely only, mechanical lion. At the perimeter of our camp, Genevieve parted from our company. “Excuse me while I go prance about. I’ll try my very best not to break my neck while I’m prancing about. Forgive me if I die from a serious fall while I’m prancing about, upside down at full gallop on a pretend unicorn.” She continued her petulant mutterings as she strode away.
I gave Falak a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll apologize later.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Most performers have fragile egos, and that girl is a natural-born entertainer.”
“But not me?”
He shook his head. “You’re too plainspoken and frank.”
I rolled my eyes toward the heavens and gritted my teeth. Gideon had given my character a nearly identical evaluation not so long ago, and here was Falak, reiterating my shortcomings.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he said as if sensing my irritation. We had reached Sher-sah’s wagon, a colossal affair painted in red with the circus’s logo lettered in gold along the sides. As he had the night before, Falak unlatched a large side door and called for the lion. “Yours may not be the ideal qualities of an entertainer, but I’m sure you’d make a fierce queen.” His words stabbed a raw place in my heart, but I kept my face impassive, expressionless. “But if I can’t teach you how to be a performer, or how to fake it enough to convince our typical audience, I should retire now and go live as a hermit in the mountains.”
His humor softened my ire, and I chuckled. “That’ll never happen.”
“Which part? You being a performer, or me being a hermit?”
“Probably both. But I meant the hermit part. You couldn’t stand to be away from the spotlight. Adoration is your life’s blood, is it not?”
He winked. “Know me so well, already, do you?”
“An educated guess.”
Sher-sah appeared in the wagon’s doorway, and he gave a massive yawn before shaking his head like a cat shaking off drowsiness from a nap. The blades of his mane clinked together like wind chimes, and I couldn’t help smiling. He really was a beautiful beast, even if he could bite me in half in a blink. Holding out my open palm, I let him sniff me. He nuzzled my fingers, and I stroked his sleek jaw.
“Come.” Falak flicked his fingers at the lion. He stepped back, leaving an open space between himself and the wagon. “Sher-sah, come.”
With a subtle whirring and clicking of machinery, the lion shifted. As graceful as any household cat, he leapt from the doorway and landed on the ground with a light touch that belied his immense size and weight. He prowled a circle around me, snuffing, huffing, breathing me in as if learning my scent. After completing a thorough examination, the cat stretched—rear end high, tail extended, head low to the ground. He raised up and dropped his haunches, sitting up, chest puffed out as proudly as any king of the jungle—a thoroughly mechanical jungle made of brass, copper, and iron, of course.
Falak bent low for a bow, stood up, and presented his colorful rope to the lion, who sniffed inquisitively at the ringmaster’s offering.
“Now...” Falak jerked his chin toward me. “Offer him a bow.”
I blinked at him. “Bow to a lion?”
“Don’t offend him. He’s very proud. That’s lesson number one.”
“Don’t offend the lion. Got it.” I crossed my feet, bent my knees, and bowed low enough to scrape my knuckles on the ground. “It’s an honor, King Lion.”
“Don’t get smart. He doesn’t like sarcasm.”
“Lesson two?” I asked.
“Perhaps you should have brought ink and paper so you could take notes.”
I scowled at the ringmaster. “Don’t get smart. I don’t like sarcasm, either.”
“But you don’t have fangs.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” I pointed at Falak’s multicolored cord. “What have you got there?”
“A harness, I hope. If his majesty allows it.” Carefully, Falak twined the ribbons around Sher-sah’s tree-trunk neck below his bristling mane. “He’d never allow a full bridle or a bit, but this is a bit of decorative finery I had Camilla devise. He likes pretty things.”
The lion did, in fact, seem to approve of his new accessory and preened as Sher-sah fastened it in place with a series of loops and knots. Before he handed over the rope, Falak produced another gift, a pair of leather gloves, and presented them to me. “I’m not completely cavalier with your safety, you know. Those should help protect you from any, um, sharp encounters.”
With a thick swallow, I accepted the gloves and Sher-sah’s beribboned leads. Falak stepped back to allow the lion and me room to get acquainted. There, in the open space beyond Sher-sah’s wagon, in the faded distant light of the torches surrounding Genevieve’s riding ring, the lion and I established a loose friendship based on tentative respect. I respected his size and strength, and he respected Falak’s assertion that I was trustworthy, enough so that the massive king of all the circus beasts deigned to let me climb onto his back and sit astride. Standing on all four feet, Sher-sah’s shoulders rose as high as my chin, and when I rode him, my feet dangled several feet above the ground.
I clutched the rope around his neck until my knuckles turned white. “Maybe I should have a saddle, too?”
