Indeed.

“How can I believe it? How is it even possible?”

Do you feel it? The lightning? Can you hear the thunder when you listen? I mean really listen?

Concentrating, I reached again. In the distance I felt it, a crackle of electricity, a rumble that sounded much like Sher-sah when he was happy to see me. I gasped, and tears rose in my eyes. It had been so long. Too long.

Now, Evelyn, do you believe?

Instead of responding, I stretched my will farther and drew the thunder closer. High above our camp, a streak of lightning speared the sky. I sobbed and looked at Gideon, expecting him to share in my joy. Instead, his expression was half awe and half something else. Fear?

He offered a weak and unconvincing smile. “It’s all true, then, isn’t it?”

I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head and attempted another smile, but he didn’t fool me. Something was bothering him, and I suspected I knew the cause of it.

In the moments before things went so wrong with the Kerch and her men, I’d assumed Gideon would be angry with me for running after the Bianchi children on my own. His worst fears had come true: I’d been shot, and he hadn’t been able to protect me. I’d died, or come close enough to it to count, anyway. If I put myself in his place, I would’ve had a hard time coping. I might’ve been viciously angry, both at the Thaulgant Brigands and the bullheaded young woman who so often acted without thinking things through.

The danger we had faced before crossing the Thaulgant Mountains had always been beyond my control, but this...this situation could have been prevented, possibly, if I’d taken a moment to accept Gideon’s counsel and advice. We were both so desperate to save each other, to protect each other, that we were completely willing to sacrifice ourselves.

Before I’d survived Lord Daeg’s treacherous scheme to steal my birthright, I hadn’t cared much about how my actions affected Gideon. In the months that had passed since the night we escaped Daeg’s estate, my feelings for Gideon had changed—from distrust and loathing to something resembling affection and respect. Possibly love. If he felt something similar for me, my recklessness had undoubtedly hurt him.

No simple apology would make up for that.

Truthfully, though, if I had it to do all over again, I would most likely make the same choices. The children were safe. The Brigands were defeated. I called that a success.

Isn’t that what queens do? I thought. Don’t we make the hard choices?

“We’ll talk later,” I said.

Gideon’s only response was a brief nod before he looked away and pulled his hand free from mine. If the others noticed his chilly demeanor, they refrained from commenting. Carefully, I shifted, readjusting my position. Svieta said something, and Genevieve translated. “Be careful. You don’t want to pull your stitches.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m trying to get comfortable while you tell me more about what happened. How bad was the fight? Was anyone else hurt?”

My companions glanced at each other before turning away, setting their gazes anywhere but on me. Dread crept over me like a hot, sickly fever. “Tell me.”

“Stefan,” whispered the princess.

“What about him?”

She swallowed and rubbed her wrist across her eyes. “He took a bullet. We didn’t find him until it was already too late.”

Bitterness and sour acid surged up my throat. I turned aside and sucked several deep breaths, willing my stomach to settle. “Who else?”

She shook her head. “There were a few other wounds. Some other bumps, scrapes and bruises, but the only casualty was Stefan. And, well...you.”

Whether my heart was man-made or not—a situation I was still unwilling to fully accept—I felt Stefan’s death the same way I’d always felt grief, like a fierce cramp in my chest, a cold hollow in my belly, a howling wind in my head. “Did he have family?”

Falak scrubbed his jaw, scraping his palm across the dark bristles sprouting there. “He had a mother he sent money to. I’m not sure if there was anyone else.”

His death wasn’t completely my fault, but I felt guilty, and talking about him pained my already aching heart. I switched to what I hoped was a less troublesome subject. “What about the wagons. Are they ruined?”

The ringmaster shook his head. “Most of the wagons suffered nothing more than cosmetic harm or some damage to their clockworks that Svieta has been able to fix with the supplies from her wagon. They’ll need paint and maybe a few repairs to their frames, replacements to several doors and windows—that sort of thing. Melisandre’s wagon has a bent axel. We’ve been able to tow it, so we can make repairs once we reach Barsava.”

“And the animals?”

“They’re all well enough, but it seems the bandits might have gotten away with the peacock. Either that, or he ran off to escape all the excitement. It wouldn’t be the first time we lost him. He was a contrary bastard anyway. I’m sure he won’t be missed.”

“What about Sher-sah?”

“Your lion is fine, other than a few dents, dings, and one bullet hole that probably came from the Kerch’s gun. He’ll be very glad to see you again. We almost had to make room for him in here. He didn’t want to leave your side.”

I chuckled, imagining the huge mechanical cat trying to squeeze into Falak’s close quarters. Sometime in the past few days, Sher-sah had become something more than a charming mechanical oddity. When it came time to separate from the circus, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about leaving him.

“Where are we now?” Falak’s wagon had survived the Brigands’ attack without sustaining serious damage to the interior. The small window over the bed revealed a clear, starry night.

“Camped in a meadow in the foothills of the Thaulgants.” Falak rose. His joints popped as he stretched his arms, fingertips brushing the arching ceiling overhead. “As soon as the last bandit rode away, we patched ourselves up and limped through the pass. We’ll reach the outskirts of Barsava tomorrow afternoon, most likely.”

“I don’t think I’ll be ready to ride Sher-sah in the show by then.”

The ringmaster sighed. “I don’t suspect you will.” He patted Genevieve’s shoulder. “That means the princess must make sure her performance is exceptionally amazing.”

I glanced at the worn and weary-looking princess standing at the foot of the bed. Her dark hair hung in a straggling braid down her back, and she wore wrinkled trousers and an even more wrinkled shirt beneath my Thunder Cloak. The spirit inside me stirred as if he too recognized the cloak and wanted it in his possession as much as I did.

“Thank you for everything.” I stared at my lap and struggled, yet again, to keep my tears from falling. “For saving my life, for watching over me, for taking me in and giving me a home, even if it was just for a little while.” I glanced up and met Svieta’s dark eyes. Perhaps she couldn’t understand my words, but I hoped she could read the gratitude on my face. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. If there’s ever a way I can repay you”—I turned my attention to Falak—“and if I’m ever in a position to grant you a favor, you’ll only have to ask. Anything that is within my power to give, it will be yours.”

The ringmaster lowered his chin and shifted into casual bow. “Coming from the Queen of Inselgrau, a favor is a mighty reward.”

“I’m no queen. Not yet.”

He waved a hand overhead. “You have command of the skies again, my lady. It seems as though anything is possible, now.”

With that he turned and walked out the door, taking Svieta and Genevieve with him. I snatched Gideon’s wrist before he could follow them out. “Stay.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

Carefully, I scooted closer to the wall, making room beside me. I patted the mattress. “Sit.”

Gideon complied with my request and sat beside me on Falak’s bed. The princess, the ringmaster, and the tinkerer had looked exhausted, but my guardian looked devastated. As though he’d broken into pieces and had been hastily patched together. His short hair was ruffled. His burn marks seemed redder than usual. His beard had grown from a shadow to thick scruff. I wanted to touch him, rub my fingers across the beard and the scars and smooth his hair.

Instead, I fisted my hands in my lap. “I don’t know where to start. I would apologize, but it only would be partially genuine.”

His gray eyes flashed as his head jerked up. The muscles around his mouth tightened, but he said nothing.

“I am sorry, Gideon. Sorry for acting so rashly, for not putting myself in your place for a moment and considering things from your point of view before I jumped into action. When we left Inselgrau, that was my first taste of independence. It was the first time I was truly able to make choices for myself, and that is a heady and intoxicating thing. It also means I’m responsible for the consequences of my decisions.”

He shifted and opened his mouth to say something, but I waved, cutting him off. “Let me finish.”