“Where are you going?” Gideon asked as I headed for the exterior of the circus’s encampment.
A hot, dry lump had risen in my throat, preventing me from answering. As if sensing my distress, he said nothing more, but he grabbed my hand and threaded his fingers between mine. We squeezed between two wagons and stepped into the open field on the other side. Looking left, I found nothing out of the ordinary. But when I looked right, the lump in my throat gave way to a sob. My knees buckled. Gideon caught me and held me steady until I recovered enough to stumble to Sher-sah’s side.
Svieta knelt on the ground beside the lion, stroking his huge paw. At least one of them had managed to survive Le Poing Fermé’s attack. Svieta was certainly the more valuable of the two, but seeing her well and unharmed did little to lessen the dread chilling my blood.
Sher-sah lay in on his side, unmoving. Too still. Too quiet. Dropping to my knees, I draped myself over his cold brass body and listened, pressing my ear against his side. Nothing answered—no echo of breath, no subtle purr. Devoid of spirit, he was a lifeless, empty statue. He’d never really been alive; so how could he be dead? My heavy heart twisted, straining against its confinement. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I studied Svieta’s somber expression. Her attention was focused on the lion, but she muttered something in a low voice that sounded stressed and tired.
“She says you shouldn’t grieve him too much,” Falak said. Only then did I realize the ringmaster had followed us. “He had two lives. That’s more than most of us get.”
“But he gave one of them up protecting me.” I sniffled and rubbed my nose across my shirt cuff. Gideon crouched beside me and stroked my back. “That’s not a debt I’ll easily forget. I owe so many. The list keeps getting longer.”
Falak asked something in Svieta’s language. The old woman replied. “I asked if she could fix him, bring him back to life. She said she wasn’t sure. Finding Sher-sah’s particular spirit again might be beyond her abilities.”
A tiny spark of hope flared to life inside me. I sat up and wiped my face. “But will she try?”
Falak translated my question. The tinkerer met my stare and held it for a moment. Briefly, she nodded before muttering something else.
“She says she will, but she makes no promises.”
I took Gideon’s hand. “I’ve made a lot of bets today, and most of them paid off.” I stroked his knuckles and looked at him through my lashes. “I wonder if I’d be pressing my luck if I made a couple more.”
He bent and pressed a kiss to my fingers. He tugged me to my feet and folded his arms around me. “A couple more?” he asked.
I nodded against his chest. His arms were warm, and the beat of his heart beneath my ear was steady and reassuring. If he’d let me, I could stay wrapped up in him forever. “Three more, in fact.”
“We’ve come this far with only a few casualties, but it could have been so much worse. What more can you ask for?”
I paused, considering those same casualties: Gideon’s fiery near-death experience, losing Stefan in the fight with the Brigands, taking a bullet to my chest and getting a new heart driven by my grandfather’s spirit, and losing Sher-sah.... Perhaps he was right. What more could I ask for? What else could I risk?
I bit my lip and held my breath.
Gideon exhaled. “I can feel the gears spinning in your head. Let’s hear it. What are your last three wagers of the day?”
“The first is that I bet Svieta will fix Sher-sah as good as new. Second, I bet Genevieve gets away from Otokar and returns to the circus in time to perform tomorrow night.”
He chuckled, and it reverberated under my ear, reminding me of Sher-sah’s purr. “Those sound reasonable. What’s the third?”
I sagged against him, letting my legs go limp. “I bet I fall asleep tonight way before you do.”
Gideon barked a sharp laugh, swooped me up in his arms, and carried me into the heart of the circus’s camp. “I don’t know about the first two, but I think your odds are good. The last bet, though, you’ve already won.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m not closing my eyes again until we’re safely aboard the Tippany’s airship.” He set me on my feet at the steps of the costumes wagon. “Get inside before Falak catches up to you. I’m sure he has a million more questions. I’ll do my best to intercept them.”
I leaned in and hugged him again. “Good night, Gideon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He cupped my chin, raised my face, and pressed his lips against mine for a sweet, brief kiss. “Good night, my Lady of Thunder. I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.”
Epilogue
The Charosvardo’s huge, silver balloon undulated in the evening breeze. The Tippany’s airship hung close to the earth at the edge of the circus camp in an open space between the wagons and a border of trees several dozen yards beyond. Niffin had tied the ship off with long ropes that he’d knotted around the largest trees at the edge of those woods. A long ramp extended from the hold, and Gideon had volunteered to coerce Wallah and Adaleiz into climbing aboard while I made my goodbyes.
I stood with Falak, Svieta, and Genevieve outside the rear door of Falak’s wagon. These were my final farewells of the evening, and they were undoubtedly the hardest. To her dismay, I had hugged the stiff and standoffish Z’arta until she gave in and hugged me back. I’d shaken hands with Gepennio, who sent me away with a bag full of rolls and anise cookies. I’d knelt and kissed Camilla’s bejeweled hand, and I’d briefly kissed both of Bashaya’s cheeks, darting in to avoid offending her snake.
I squeezed Genevieve’s shoulders and struggled to hold back my tears. “You were brilliant, princess. The crowd adored you.” I glanced at Falak, who watched us with a haughty smile full of self-satisfaction. “Falak has a new sensation on his hands. You’ll be in demand all around the world, soon enough.”
The princess’s eyes watered, and she tugged me in for a fierce hug. She released me, shrugged off the Thunder Cloak, and shoved it at me. “It’s time for you to have this back.”
“I already mourned its loss. It’s yours now. You’ll need it to keep Otokar off your trail.”
She scowled. “It’ll take more than an invisibility cloak for that. I’ll have to face my sister at some point, if I ever want her to stop chasing me.”
“Do you think she’ll let you go?”
Shrugging, she shook her head. “I can only hope.”
“You’ll always be welcome under my roof.” I winced. “Just give me a little time to rebuild one.”
Genevieve smiled and backed away. “I’m not the Empress of Bonhemm, Evie, but I am your friend. If you need me, I’ll come. Even if all I can offer is a little moral support.”
Falak stepped up to take her place and released a mischievous grin. “I wish I could say I was sorry to see you go.”
I laughed. “I wish I could say I was sorry to leave.” I was sorry, but he already knew that.
He glanced at the airship bobbing in the breeze. Gideon had wrestled Adaleiz aboard, and Niffin was attempting to entice Wallah to climb the ramp. His sister, Melainy, stood above them, leaning over the deck railing as she peered down at the two young men. Even from this distance I could see the wry twist of her lips and her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Beside her stood another young woman—Malita. She giggled as Niffin cursed and threw up his hands when Wallah jerked free and trotted away. My heart soared, seeing her smile.
How I’ve missed her.
