book title

The cloak swirled in a blast of smoke, and in a blink, Jai had disappeared to the roar of applause. But even as the crowd dispersed into the churn of the square, Emara’s ears buzzed.

Everard’s words echoed through her spinning mind: Focus on Shadmundar. He is the thread that will guide you.

The image of the small black cat slamming into the floor burned into her mind, and her heart pounded in her chest. Shadmundar had said he was over a hundred years old. Of course, it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. But Jai seemed so different from the jaded, wise cat she’d known. Could they possibly be one and the same? Or had Jai simply stolen the name from him, as he’d probably stolen so many other things?

Then again… her thoughts flashed to a midnight conversation in the quiet of the darkness with the cat curled against her. I tried to steal from a magus, and Everard cursed me…

A whirl of dizziness swept through Emara, and she staggered to one side, her breath caught in her throat.

A hand squeezed around her elbow. “While I know my show often weakens the knees, I’d appreciate it if I didn’t have to carry you through the city again.”

Emara slowly turned to where Jai stood with a bandana tied around his dark hair, a false beard, and a beige robe replacing his gaudy clothes. Besides his waggish gaze, he looked almost nothing like the street showman she’d just applauded. Even his rings and bangles were gone.

“Shadmundar… where did you come up with that name?”

“You like it?” He puffed out his chest in a grand pose. “It’s just a stretch of my surname, Shadmund. The magi always have those long names, so I had to give it a little something extra. Sounds like a magus though, don’t you think?”

Emara turned her gaze away, her stomach flopping. Could this really be Shadmundar? The same Shadmundar that would save her in another century? Not once, or twice, but three times. Only for another magus to break his body on the bloody floor of a palace. She wiped at her damp eyes with a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions under control.

Jai’s arched brows rose, a bruise ringing one of his eyes from Red Vest’s punch the day before. “I must say though, this is the first time I think anyone has been moved to tears by my miracles.”

Emara half-heartedly slapped him on the shoulder. He was so alive here, so happy… so human. She thought of the ragged, one-eyed cat she’d tried to rescue from the war-torn streets of Faveno—his snide remarks, his tired, almost resigned manner, and his constant, reassuring presence by her side.

She turned again and looked at Jai, hard this time. Though his amber-brown eyes were crinkled in a smile, there was a spark of concern beneath his dark brows. Still, even as she stared, she could find nothing of the wisdom of her Shad, none of the uncanny insight. Then again, he was still just a boy…

Jai swept the beard away and turned his face as if to give her a better look. “Ah, are you another adoring fan of the lost magus, Shadmundar, now?” He flashed a smug grin. “I must warn you, you’re one of many.”

Emara shook her head. Impossible. She couldn’t for one moment imagine this boy was one and the same as Everard’s legendary spy and servant. There had to be a mistake. And yet… as much as she wanted to deny it, her bones knew it was true. “I’m sorry, you just… remind me of someone I once knew.”

Jai’s gaze darted to something behind her, and he put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her across the still crowded square. “Yes, as fascinating as I’m sure he is, let’s walk and talk, shall we? Best not to linger in one place too long. Don’t you know it’s bad luck?”

A smile curved Emara’s lips. “Don’t want to be around when your adoring fans discover their purses are a touch too light?”

Jai wove her arm in his, leaning close as if they’d known one another forever. “Well, it certainly looks like someone has woken up and gained a personality. Have you remembered how you appeared on the dock yet, mystery-girl?”

“A trickster like yourself should know we false magi mustn’t reveal our secrets so lightly.” They turned onto another street full of clay pots, plates, and other earthenware painted with detailed portraits and intricate nature scenes. “Unless the great Shadmundar is looking for more tricks to steal?”

Jai placed a hand on his chest, feigning injury. “You wound me.” He shouldered through a throng of people haggling over an ornate jug.

Emara resisted the urge to grab his hand and send a coil of healing yanaa through him, if only in jest. “I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“And you, now that you’ve recovered? What will you do next?”

Emara looked at him sideways in surprise. After all he’d done for her, she’d been expecting him to call in the favor, not ask after her own plans. “I… must find the magus, Bellaphia.”

“And how do you propose to do that? The magi hardly ever reveal themselves to anyone, except the one that lives in the palace.”

Emara’s attention sharpened, a premonition stirring in her gut. “And who is that?”

“I think they call him Everard. He lives in the palace as an advisor to the Heirs and the Queen on behalf of the magi. Occasionally one of his brothers or sisters will show up with him, but it’s a rare occurrence.”

Certainty settled into Emara’s bones, the rightness of it bringing a wave of relief. Yes. If she could just talk to Everard, he’d be able to clarify what she was supposed to do. She lifted her chin, her back straightening and a grin lighting her face.

“The palace, then? Which way is it?” She craned her neck, trying to peer through the line of buildings toward the rosy spires she knew loomed somewhere above them. “If I go now, I can—”

“Wait a minute.” Jai pulled on her arm, tugging her into a side alley so he could look her in the eye. “What makes you think the high magus, favored advisor of the Heirs, will even talk to you? They don’t just let people in off the street.” He folded his arms and leaned against the alley wall. “Unless you have some gifts he might be interested in?”

Emara mimicked his posture, folding her own arms. “And what if I do? Where would I go?”

“I can get you there.” Jai splayed his hands with a practiced grin. “After all, we did rescue you from the docks yesterday, feed, and shelter you. What’s one more little jaunt to the palace? I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Ah there it was—a debt come due. At least, she could pay it now rather than let it hang over her head for days on end. Annoyance narrowed Emara’s eyes. “Why don’t you just speak plainly, Shadmundar the great. What do you want?”

He brushed off the dust from his shabby cloak. “I’m just saying, I can work from the goodness of my heart only so much. What’s in it for me?”

Emara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course. Anisa might be fond of her cousin, but she’d been wrong about him too. Jai was the type that did nothing for nothing. Rescuing her had been a calculated move—an investment based on the possibility that, if she had the gifts Manju claimed, she might be valuable.

The thought brought a sour taste to her mouth, but she swallowed it down. After all, she couldn’t really blame him. People did what they needed to get by in this world, and with his band of misfits, he had a half dozen extra mouths to feed. At least he was predictable.

That made him less dangerous.

“I have no coin, but I do have a gift I know Everard would be interested in. If I can see him, perhaps there might be a reward in it for you.”

Then it was Jai’s turn to roll his eyes. “Skies, you think yourself of great importance for an amnesiac abandoned on the docks. Either that, or you’ve got a bad case of mislaid optimism. Everard’s not exactly renowned for being friendly, you know.” A coin appeared once again between his fingers, dancing along his knuckles. “He’s powerful, dangerous, and I hear he can actually be rather cruel and ornery. Even if he does see you, if you’re asking for something for nothing… again, I have great doubts you’ll even get a copper for your thoughts.”

Emara sighed. While Jai’s smug face was incredibly annoying, he wasn’t wrong. Although Everard and a few of his kin had helped the Heirs, the magi in general weren’t to be trusted. Ivanora was proof enough of that.

Emara wound one of her dark curls around a finger. “Fine. How much coin do you require for your assistance?”

Jai shrugged as if it were of no importance. “I could hardly ask coin of a girl who has none. Perhaps I could merely bargain a favor or two? In exchange for services rendered?”

Emara’s shoulders relaxed, an unseen burden lifted. Jai was a thief, but apparently he wasn’t a greedy extortionist. Even though he was obviously dishonest and annoying, there was something about his easy confidence that she couldn’t help but like. She held up a hand and counted on her fingers.

“One for saving me from the dock, one for sheltering me for the night, and one for taking me to the magus.” She flourished a hand in mock imitation of his Shadmundar act. “I, the great Emara Rao, shall grant you three favors of your choosing.”

The coin disappeared up his sleeve, and Jai held out a hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, mystery-girl.”

Emara eyed his long, tapered fingers and wondered just how many tricks he had hidden between them. Was it wise to make a deal with a swindler? Then again, she’d trusted Shad, and weren’t they one and the same? But even if they were, one hundred years was long enough to change anyone. Magus, cat, or human. For better or for worse.

She slid her hand through his to squeeze his forearm. “Can I trust a trickster?”

He held her gaze with a dangerous smile. “You tell me.”

She grinned, cocking her head ever so slightly at the evasion. It was a good reminder. Of course, no one was completely trustworthy. But it was rare for someone, especially a self-proclaimed trickster, to admit to it so readily. Did that make him more dependable? Or less?

She sent a sliver of yanaa through him to ease the bruise on his face. No yanaa answered back, and if he noticed, he didn’t show it. Yaya had once said the secret to working with others was to only give them the smallest pieces of trust and go from there. She could do that.