“Osteregat'sya,” the shabby girl snarled as she gripped my upper arm, fingers gouging my flesh. Grime stained the knees of her knickers, and patches adorned her waistcoat. Her blond hair fell in tangles to her shoulders.
Malita shoved herself between us, putting me at her back, and I gaped at her uncharacteristic display of hostility. Snatching the urchin’s wrist, Malita squeezed until the girl’s eyes popped wide. She gasped and released my arm, but Malita held fast, applying steady force until the girl’s hand was bent back to the point of snapping.
“Otpusti menya, devushka,” the urchin growled, her eyes shooting daggers. Neither Malita nor I spoke much Varyngan, but sometimes actions were clearer than words, and this girl was clearly furious. Reaching for the thunder, I prepared for a fight as I searched the crowds for the urchin’s companions, but her gang was hanging back, watching, waiting....
The girl’s jaw muscle bulged as she ground her teeth. Malita released her, and she stumbled back. Giving us one last hateful glare, the urchin spat at our feet before sprinting away. I watched until the rest of her gang followed her, disappearing into the crowds of oblivious shoppers.
Staring with my mouth agape, I grabbed Malita’s hands. “I’ve never seen you do anything like that before.”
Her smile turned shy as her gaze fell to her feet. She shrugged one shoulder. “Niffin teaches me things—how to fight.” She looked up, a blaze burning in her eyes as she stabbed a finger to her chest. “I am no victim.”
Nodding, I pressed her knuckles to my chest over my heart that was still beating an uneasy pace. “You were amazing. Maybe I should ask Niffin for some lessons as well.”
Her gaze drifted over my shoulder, scanning the market behind me. “We should not stay long. That girl will not be happy with me.”
After waving off a pushy tinsmith and ignoring the flirtatious grins of young man trying to sell us a bouquet of daisies, Malita and I found a stall of ladies’ second-hand clothing. I turned my nose up at the petticoats and wide skirts, but her eyes went big and round when she found a plain muslin day-dress printed with yellow crocuses. It was perhaps a bit finer than something a working-class woman would wear on a regular day, but the smile on her face melted my heart. I plucked the necessary coins from my purse and passed them to Malita, but she waved me off and revealed her own small pouch of money. “I take care of myself.”
While we waited for the merchant to fold and tie-up the dress in brown paper and string, I surveyed our surroundings, looking for something more suitable to my tastes. “No dress for you, my lady?” the vendor asked.
I glanced at her, an older woman in starched gray wool. Shaking my head, I pointed toward another stall farther down the road. “I’m looking for something a bit more....”
“For boys,” Malita said, rolling her eyes. She thanked the merchant and tugged me toward the men’s clothing stall. “Come, come. Trousers for Evie. I know what you like.”
***
We had finished our soup and were starting on plates of roasted hen when Niffin showed up, plopping into his seat across from me in the inn’s dining room. Malita had assured me not to worry, not to give up dinner plans and go searching for him. My mind had invented a half-dozen scenarios all leading to his demise or imprisonment—it wouldn’t have been the first time a Fantazike in my company had wound up in jail. But he seemed unmolested, unperturbed, and almost unrecognizable as he tucked his napkin under his chin and raised his wine glass. “Cheers?” he asked, ignoring our gaping mouths.
Malita recovered first. Her hand shot out, fingers raking through his midnight-colored hair. Tinted spectacles, as I’d suggested, rode the bridge of his nose, concealing his eyes’ purple hue. He’d traded the Fantazikes’ standard homespun shirt, embroidered waistcoat, and knickers for black canvas trousers, a drop-sleeve calico shirt, and faded blue neckerchief.
“Who are you?” Truly, I mourned the loss of his crimson hair and regretted the need for his disguise. He was a rainbow reduced to shades of gray. “And what have you done with Niffin?”
The corner of his mouth curled up as he swallowed his wine. “I take that to mean you find my disguise acceptable.”
“More than.” I glanced at my own attire, tweed trousers and worn boots, and fingered my long brown braid. “Perhaps I should take some inspiration from you.”
He shrugged, dismissing my concerns, and poked his fork at the potatoes on his plate. “Do not take this the wrong way, Evie, but I think you will easily blend in among the masses as long as you keep your Thunder Cloak hidden.”
I thought of my magical family heirloom, folded away in my saddlebags. No, I usually wasn’t the kind of young woman who attracted attention, and I hoped that meant I could travel through Steinerland like a mouse crawling through shadows, unseen and undetected. “Run into any trouble?” I asked, cutting into a slice of chicken.
“None at all. How about you?” Glancing up, he caught the uneasy look flashing across Malita’s face and paused, fork hovering over his plate. Her shoulders drew towards her ears as she sank in her seat. Perhaps she had learned some fighting techniques from Niffin, but she’d never make a good liar.
He set down his fork and covered her hand with his. “What happened, àyànfe mi?”
“Don’t be modest.” I nudged her elbow. “Tell him.”
Speaking in her own language, she gave him what I presumed was a summary of our trip to the market. Niffin’s attention shifted to me when she finished speaking. “I am glad things turned out all right,” he said. “Though, I think it is a good thing we ship out tomorrow. I do not know why, Evie, but it seems you have a knack for attracting problems.”
His words made me flinch, but I couldn’t disagree. “Get used to it, my friends. I’m afraid my inclination for trouble will only get worse before it gets better, which is why I think it might be a good idea for you to teach me the moves you’ve been teaching Malita.”
He arched a newly blackened eyebrow at me. “You’re sure?”
“There’s a small garden behind our rooms.” I pointed toward the windows facing the rear of the inn. “We’ll meet there after dark.”
***
Interior lights gleamed through the inn’s windows, shedding a dim glow on the flowering shrubs enclosing the lawn. Gas lanterns hung in the garden’s darkest corners in anticipation of nighttime visitors. Only a thin sliver of moon perched in the sky, but Malita, Niffin, and I didn’t need much light, and the less noticeable we were, the better.
Niffin laced his hands behind him and paced back and forth across the grass. “Your powers are more suited for warfare and battles, but sometimes you will find yourself in situations where lightning is not so convenient.”
“I wouldn’t have used it in the market today unless things got desperate.” I raised my knee and pointed at my boot. “It’s why I carry one of Gideon’s knives.”
“But do you know how to use it?”
“He’s shown me some things, yes.” I cut my gaze to Malita who stood at the garden’s edge. She had folded her arms over her chest and wore a solemn expression. “But Malita incapacitated that girl with a simple move. That’s the sort of thing I want to learn. I don’t want to always attack. I also want to know how to defend.”
Niffin stopped pacing and faced me. “I am glad to hear you say so.” Spreading his feet, he bent his knees and motioned for me to do the same. “There is no need to learn how to fight if you can stop one before it begins.”
Stopping a fight before it begins. I wondered if that was a philosophy I could apply in my approach to reclaiming the throne.
Only time will tell.
The lantern lights illuminated Niffin’s cagey grin as he shifted and prowled behind me. He smelled slightly caustic—likely from his hair dye. “Let us begin with a lesson in how to escape your attacker’s hold.” His forearm snaked around my waist, holding me firmly against his chest as his other arm threaded around my neck. Even though I trusted him, my pulse raced. “Don’t panic, Evie,” he whispered in my ear, chuckling. “I promise not to hurt you.”
Late into the night we trained, Niffin clasping me in various holds and instructing me how to escape them. Sometimes, when I was too exhausted to continue, he asked Malita to take my place so I could watch her and mimic her actions. I performed the same maneuvers over and over until I could execute them without pause or hesitation. By the time I begged for a break, I was sweaty and my arms ached, but my blood zinged with the thrill of accomplishment.
“We will continue to practice,” he said. “These moves must become instinctual to be truly effective. Once you have perfected what I taught you, I will show you more techniques.” He patted my shoulder. “But tonight, you have made a very good start.”
We tiptoed to our rooms, careful not to wake the inn’s other patrons. I thought of Gideon while I washed up and slid into bed, wishing he’d been there to practice with us. He would have approved of Niffin’s training and of anything I could do to improve my chances of survival. It was in quiet moments like this, while I waited for sleep to take me, that I missed him most.
