The mountain road turned, and its incline steepened. Holding fast with my legs, I gripped Sher-sah and leaned forward, wrapping my fists in his reins. “I know you abhor a saddle, King Lion, but bareback riding in the rain is challenging the full extent of my skills.”
I pictured Mika and Adaleiz warm and dry in the menagerie wagon and envied them. Somewhere at the front of our procession, Gideon rode on Wallah. The rain had probably made him miserable, too, but at least he had a saddle and warm-blooded beast beneath him.
“Is there anything special you have to do to make Svieta’s cloaking spell work?”
“No.” Genevieve’s saddle creaked as she shifted again. “She only said I should keep it on at all times.”
As the night grew later, the strain of staying alert for signs of an attack wore on me. Rain had soaked me to the bone, and subtle shivers trembled through me from head to toe. My body screamed for a break, but I refused to admit weakness. If Genevieve and Gideon could outlast the night, so would I.
After hours of proceeding at a slow, torturous crawl into the mountains, the rain eased to a misty drizzle. The impenetrable darkness relented, fading from abyssal black to a sickly, dark gray. Dawn arrived, bringing with it a blessed shift change for those of us who had guarded the circus throughout the night. The troupe paused briefly for breakfast, and after I’d gulped a bowl of hot oats soaked in milk, Sher-sah and I returned to the menagerie cart with Genevieve and her unicorn to check on our horses and let them out for a bit of exercise.
Svieta was waiting for us when we arrived, and she wore an anxious expression. She clutched a small oil can and a chamois cloth, obviously eager to inspect and repair the unicorn and lion if necessary. I worried that our arduous night in the rain might’ve harmed their mechanics, and the tinkerer appeared to share my concerns. She issued a command, and the lion and unicorn scurried into the wagon as Mika and Adaleiz trotted out, both eager to stretch their legs.
“I feel dead on my feet,” I said. “I might pass out the minute I lie down.”
Genevieve groaned. “I might not even make it that long.”
We let the horses nibble at the sparse greenery sprigging up from our rocky surrounding, but the mountains favored granite walls over green meadows and leafy trees. Jagged knobs of rock jutted up from the roadside, leaving precious little room for the wagons to squeeze through. We had ascended high into the Thaulgant’s peaks, and a misstep would send the wagons and their inhabitants plummeting down steep hillsides and gullies. I peered up at the tallest summit, one Falak had called Dziadek, a local word meaning “grandfather.” Craggy, and snowcapped like an old man with white hair, the mountain had rightfully earned its name.
“Why would anyone want to live in these cold, raw rocks?” I muttered to myself.
“I don’t think anyone does.” Gideon drew up behind me on Wallah and dismounted. The rain had plastered his hair against his head, and his oilskin cloak hung from his shoulders in limp, damp folds as though admitting defeat. “The Kerch and her men take advantage of this location for their own ill-gotten gains, but I suspect they keep permanent living quarters somewhere else. Somewhere a lot more comfortable and inviting.”
“Speaking of comfortable and inviting, did Geppenio give you breakfast?”
He bobbed his head.
“How about Falak? Did he get you a place to bunk?”
“I’ll sleep when the mountains are behind us. If we maintain this pace, we’ll be on our way out by tomorrow morning, and going downhill, we’ll move twice as fast.”
“You can’t go that long without sleep, Gideon. Especially not while you’re still recovering.” The pale dawn light revealed dark circles under his eyes. His burn scars stood out vividly against his pallid complexion.
He pointed at the front of the wagon train. “I’m going to ride up top at the front with Henri. I’ll catch a catnap while he’s on lookout.” He nodded at Wallah, who had wandered over to the other two horses, joining them in search of weeds and stray stalks of grass. “Is there room for him in one of the carts? He could use a break.”
I studied the huge menagerie wagon where Mika and Adaleiz were stabled. “Why don’t the princess and I let our horses walk for a bit? They need the exercise.”
Before long, Falak issued the order for everyone to make ready for departure. Gideon escorted Genevieve and me to the costumes wagon. “Get some rest,” I said, pausing at the wagon’s threshold.
He touched his hand to his brow in a brief salute. “You too, m’lady.” He strode away, and I dreaded letting him out of my sight.
The moment my head hit my pillow, however, all my concerns drained away, and I fell into a deep, black abyss of sleep.
Shouts of alarm and shrill screams awoke me moments later, and I sat up as if someone had dashed cold water over my head. My heart pounded like waves pummeling a beach during a storm. Our wagon rammed against something and stuttered to a sudden, jarring halt. Bolts of fabric tumbled in an avalanche of textures and colors, and one of the costume racks fell over, nearly pinning me underneath.
“They’re here,” said Genevieve, who was already rolling out of her pallet and grabbing for her boots.
I shoved my feet into my own damp boots. My hands shook as I tied the laces. The bitter taste of adrenaline pooled on my tongue. “I was sure they would’ve waited until night.”
“Maybe they knew that’s what we expected, so they took us when we’d be less on guard.”
The princess and I threw open our wagon door and jumped to the ground and into a hurricane of confusion. Strange men and women and a fleet of horses surrounded us, yelling, fighting, shooting, hacking at wagon doors and windows. Most wagons in our train appeared to have survived the sudden stop, though all sat askew along the road, some mashed against each other at odd angles.
A Brigand who had been chopping at one of the supply wagons went down with a howl. The moment he hit the ground, Henri pounced on him, retrieving a silver knife from his victim’s ribs. He wore a quiver of arrows on his back, and had slung a bow crossway over his chest. Briefly his gaze met mine, and he nodded before disappearing around the corner of another wagon.
On impulse, I reached for my lightning, forgetting in that moment of desperation that my powers were hobbled. “Gah!”
“What is it?” The princess huddled close to our wagon, her face pale, eyes huge.
“I can’t get used to not having my lightning. I hate being helpless.”
“Now you know how the rest of us feel.”
I thrust my finger at her, pointing at the clasp at the neck of her cloak. “Use the cloak. Don’t let anyone see you. Do what you can to help.”
I turned and scurried toward the rear of the circus procession.
“Where are you going?” Genevieve yelled from behind me.
“To find Sher-sah. Right now, he’s the only weapon I’ve got.”
As if the lion had read my mind, he met me halfway. Svieta must have released him the moment our procession crashed to a stop. “Sher-sah!”
His head whipped toward me, and a low, fierce growl rumbled from somewhere deep inside his chest. He dropped a shoulder, and without a hesitation, I climbed onto his back. Each of my aching, tired muscles screamed in protest, but I gritted my teeth, focusing on the fight spilling out in a chaotic storm. “Find Gideon. He’ll be wherever the worst of the fighting is.”
The ear-shattering report of gunfire exploded somewhere at the head of the wagon procession, and a bone-wracking shriek raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Goose bumps spilled across my arms, and I whispered a quiet prayer. “Please let him be all right.”
The lion raced up the roadway, weaving in and out of wagons and groups of fighters. A few brave souls noticed us and made to attack, but a blistering roar from Sher-sah sent them reeling, scurrying to avoid his monstrous fangs. We arrived at the front of the wagon train at the same moment a Brigand was raising his rifle, aiming at Gideon’s unprotected back. Gideon’s attention was focused on the person before him, a huge giant of a man wielding a monstrous battle ax.