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After supper, Gideon ordered everyone not on active guard duty to return their wagons. With Falak’s blessing, he instructed them to stay inside with their doors locked and barred. No one argued or resisted, perhaps because his orders made sense, or because fear made them compliant and tractable, or perhaps because of the mist in the air, the blustering winds, and the darkening skies. Rain was imminent, and was no longer a question of if but when.
Although Gideon had arranged a formal watch with assigned shifts and schedules, some members of our troupe, particularly those with children, took their own precautions. The Bianchi family had worked out their own familial sentry while their youngest children huddled with Camilla behind a barricaded door. One of the older Bianchi acrobats perched on the roof of her wagon like a raven, surveying her surroundings as our train bumped and jostled up the steep mountain path. Other families, ones who also had children in their folds, had instituted similar defenses. Most had nothing more than a few knives and impromptu clubs, but the firm set of their chins and the hard look in their eyes revealed their intent to fight and defend their livelihoods and loved ones.
As the last of the sunlight faded, and as the shadows of the Thaulgant Mountains thickened around us, Le Cirque de Merveilles Mécanique prepared for battle.
Perched atop Ynnua, Genevieve trotted beside me and Sher-sah. At Gideon’s request, we kept a position within the procession neither near the front nor close to the rear, where attack seemed most likely and imminent. I wore the leather knickers and slippers that helped me keep a firm grip on my mount, and Falak had lent me an oilskin cape that resisted the rain—mostly. The princess had traded her flashy show attire for a pair of dark trousers, a dark shirt and waistcoat, and a rain-impervious covering of her own.
“Is that my Thunder Cloak?” The dim light hid the fabric’s iridescent nacre, but the shape and form was unmistakable.
Genevieve nodded. “Svieta gave it to me right before we pulled out. Said she hasn’t perfected it, but it should work well enough, especially on a moonless night.” She pointed at the heavy clouds. “I might not be invisible, but she said it should shield me from Otokar’s scrying spells.”
A cold finger of dread traced the back of my neck, and I shivered. “If Otokar can scry you, perhaps Le Poing Fermé will do the same to find me.”
The princess shifted forward in her saddle, hunching lower, drawing her shoulders in tight. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I should have thought of it before.”
“Can we cut the cloak in half? It seems we both need its protection.”
I shook my head. “I’d never harm my cloak. It’s too precious.”
“I didn’t really mean it.”
I waved aside her apology. “I know. I understand what you meant, though. You can stretch the cloak quite a bit and the two of us could share it on occasion, perhaps, if we were in a desperate situation.” A drop of rain splattered on my nose, and I pulled my hood lower over my face. If the rain bothered Sher-sah, he made no complaint, and I wondered if wet weather affected his mechanical bits and pieces. “I’ve dealt with Le Poing Fermé before and lived to tell the tale. I’m not dismissing them, but the Kerch and her men are the more immediate threat. Let’s worry about surviving this passage first, and then I’ll worry about Le Poing Fermé.”
The rattle of the wagons, the sputter of their clockworks, the clop of Ynnua’s brass hooves, and Sher-sah’s subtle clicking and whirring as he trotted up the road filled the silence between the princess and me. The rain fell in steady splatters that muffled distant noises and seemed to make the world smaller and closer. The conditions were terrible for fighting, but perhaps the storm would keep the bandits away, deter them from prowling. Surely they’d prefer warm beds, dry clothes, and hot drinks on a night like this.
“I never told you how the cloak works. Not all of it anyway.” On this dark dangerous night when I was thousands of miles from home and the clouds were blotting out my ancestors’ constellations, speaking of my Thunder Cloak pained me like a strand of barbed wire cinching around my heart.
As though she sensed my heartache, my reluctance, and—to be honest—my resentment, the princess said nothing. She merely listened.
“To trigger the cloak’s invisibility powers, you have to button the clasp at the collar and speak my grandfather’s name aloud.”
She paused a beat before replying. “Trevelyan.”
I flinched, hearing such a beloved familial name on foreign lips. “How...?”
“I know the gods’ histories, Evie. My mother and grandfather ensured Tereza and I were thoroughly educated on the matter. My family was so, so envious of the Stormbournes, the last of an otherwise extinct species. And they were resentful. I understand why Tereza did what she did to me. To know that the kind of power your family has, that our family once had but lost, is just beyond her reach, as though she could stretch herself far enough, she might reach it, somehow.”
“It doesn’t make what she did to you justifiable.”
“No. Not justifiable, but it was understandable. Every day growing up we were reminded of what we had, but had lost. Tereza took it harder than I did, but then, she is the empress.”
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.
Leaning down so the lion could see my gesture, I pointed at the rifleman. “Get him, Sher-sah.”
The lion leapt, and I held fast, clinging to his back and shoulders until my muscles and joints screamed, but my body’s protests were soon drowned out by the shrieks of Sher-sah’s first victim. My stomach turned over, and bile rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed my disgust. Getting mauled by a lion was a horrible way to die. I regretted the necessity of it while accepting that the brigands lived by a violent code, and when they attacked us, they were accepting these kinds of consequences. I might have to do worse for the sake of my people, some day.
As soon as the lion slowed, I slipped to the ground and snatched the rifle from the fallen man, ignoring the blood spattered on the stock and barrel. Whipping around, I caught Gideon’s opponent in my gun sights and pulled the trigger. Perhaps I should have hesitated, should have questioned my intentions, but the only instinct that drove me was the one demanding I protect Gideon.
Not that I should have worried. Making a shot with precise aim required either an innate talent or lots of practice. I had neither. A red bloom of blood stained the giant man’s shirt, proving I’d managed, at least, to nick his shoulder. My shot distracted him long enough for Gideon to step back and steady his aim, proving he harbored no reservations about the necessity of killing in this situation. Sephonie let loose a bolt with a sharp thwack! The giant clutched his chest over his heart, and blood poured between his fingers. He staggered, sank to his knees, and groaned. Moments later, he pitched to the ground face-first.
“Evie.” Gideon glared at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you’re all right.”
Sher-sah roared again, taking down another would-be attacker before he could fire on us.
“You promised you wouldn’t do anything reckless.”
“I also promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you if there was something I could do about it. I might not have my lightning, but Sher-sah is almost as good.”
His gaze shifted, and he studied the scene behind me, taking in the wreckage and chaos.He lowered his voice. “Where’s Karolina?”
“Invisible if she has any sense. She’s wearing my Thunder Cloak.”
He nodded. “Good. Now if only you had that much sense.”
“Don’t start with me—” A howl rose above the shouting and shooting, a cry both grievous and heartbreaking. Everyone seemed to pause and listen. “What was that?”
Gideon shook his head, and we both hurried forward, running toward the cry. Sher-sah flanked us, deterring interference.
As we reached the middle of the wagon train, I glanced overhead and caught a flash of red curls. Henri’s assistant, Jacqueline, had come running, too, taking an elevated route. She peered at us from her rooftop perch and pointed at an emerald-green wagon several yards down. “Camilla.”
A cold shiver raised gooseflesh along my arms and shoulders. Without waiting for Gideon’s response, I ordered Sher-sah to follow as I ran for the Bianchis’ collection of carts. The lion and I wheeled around the rear corner of Camilla’s wagon. The battered rear door stood ajar, obviously hacked open with something sharp and brutal. The Bianchi matriarch stood in the doorway, her face ashen, hands trembling as she clutched the wall for support. “I miei bambini,” she moaned. “Loro hanno preso I miei bambini.”
“They took the children,” Gideon translated before questioning Camilla. “Quale via?”
She raised a shaky, gnarled finger and pointed up the roadway to where the path disappeared into a narrow crevice between two towering rock walls.
“Of course they went that way,” I grumbled
“Stay here, Evie,” Gideon said. “Please.”
I tapped Sher-sah’s shoulder, and when the lion crouched, I swung myself onto his back. “Just try to stop me.”
“I’m the one who made the promise to protect this circus.”
I snarled at him, even though my heartbeat thundered in my ears and fear, like acid, burned in my veins. “You don’t get to be the only hero, Gideon.”
His eyes widened in obvious dismay. “You’re doing this because you want to be a hero?”
“No, I’m going after them because I swore this circus would come to no harm because of me. I’m going after them because I can, and it’s the right thing to do.” And I was convinced leaving Gideon to watch over the rest of the circus was also the right thing to do, too. I wrapped my hands in the lion’s reins and thumped my heel against his side as Gideon growled an indefinable sound of anger and exasperation. Sher-sah darted around the wagon and sprinted up the roadway, dodging bandits and circus members, including Falak, who waved his pistol overhead as we passed. Relief washed over me. I was glad to see he was still alive and unharmed.
“Where are you going?” he shouted.
I pointed at the crevice up the road. “After the Bianchi children.”
“Good luck,” he said as he turned and fired a shot toward a target on the opposite side of his wagon.
The lion surged ahead, and we left the skirmish behind. Except for the occasional pop of gunfire, the roar of battle faded away. Perhaps I’d acted rashly, going off alone, but knowing Gideon, he’d be fast on my trail once he retrieved his horse. If he caught up with me, I’d welcome his help, but the Bianchi children couldn’t afford hesitation. Their kidnapper’s trail was still warm, and I had to find it before it faded.
When we reached the crevice, Sher-sah’s pace slowed. Steep and narrow rock walls blocked the sunlight, casting deep shadows, and each sound, each footstep reverberated, turning the solitary Sher-sah into an army of invisible lions. If I’d been on my horse, I would’ve reined back, slowing our pace, quieting the horse’s steps so I could listen for the kidnapper’s presence. The lion required no such allowances. He’d downed Genevieve’s abductors without my assistance, and I trusted him to do the same for the Bianchi boy and girl.
I should have learned their names. The acrobats had kept their offspring close and often secluded. Although their faces were familiar, I’d never learned more about them. My own problems had been too immediate and pressing to worry about making the acquaintance of each circus member. I regretted my myopic focus, but listing my shortcomings wouldn’t help Camilla’s grandchildren now.
A far-off wail, so quiet it barely rose above the clamor of Sher-sah’s footsteps, echoed through the narrow canyon. It sounded like the cry of a young child. “Hear that?” I asked.
But the cat had superior hearing and was already running again, racing around each sharp curve with deadly speed. I gritted my teeth and prayed for the strength to hold on a bit longer.
The road widened, the gloom faded, and the improved light revealed a scene so surprising and terrible that my mind scrambled to understand it.
There, in a spot where the pathway was wide enough to encompass the Brigands’ superior numbers, stood one of the highwayman, dismounted from his horse. He clutched two wriggling, crying, frightened children in his arms. At his back stood a dozen-or-so men and women, all bearing weapons, all with the stances and sneering, snarling expressions of vicious fighters. They wore an eclectic mixture of styles and fabrics, fashions and accessories they must have claimed from countless victims.
One of the Brigands, a woman, gave me a fierce grimace, revealing a gold tooth. She wore a black top hat and a pale-green silk tunic over black trousers.
The Kerch herself, I presumed.
She held a pistol, a huge brass thing that looked as though it could take down an elephant. She pointed the gun at me and winked as Sher-sah slowed to a halt. “Nett von Ihnen, uns zu verbinden, Stormbourne.” Nice of you to join us, Stormbourne.
She had spoken in Dreutchish and knew my name. My stomach dropped to my feet. “H-how...?”
She flicked her wrist, jiggling her gun in a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, m’lady,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, “Le Poing Fermé has told me all about you.”
The contents of my stomach surged up my throat. Breath turned to dust on my tongue. “Wha—” The words lodged in my dry throat. I swallowed and tried again. “What do you know about Le Poing Fermé?”
If I were riding Adaleiz, I would have tugged her reins, encouraging her to step back and put distance between me and the rough-and-tumble group before us. Sher-sah, however, refused a saddle and bridle. Instead, he and I relied on voice cues, gestures, and intuition. Wishing he could read my mind, I patted his neck and tightened my legs around him, signaling him to wait for my lead. I needed him to play along but also prepare for attack. No matter what happened to me, the Bianchis deserved every chance for rescue.
Again, the Kerch gestured with her gun. A black braid threaded with silver hairs trailed over her shoulder. Gold-rimmed spectacles balanced atop her long, thin nose. “You do not get to ask those kinds of questions, m’lady.” Her thick accent made her words difficult to decipher. “You only get to follow orders, and if you are polite about it, I will make certain my troop treat you kindly.”
Her “troop” stared at me, some with anger, some with hunger. None inspired belief in their capacity for kindness. “And if I’m not polite?”
She swung the gun barrel around and aimed it at the children. “These two will pay for your rudeness.”
“What do you want?”
She raised a shoulder and dropped it. “I want you. For the children.”
“Fine. It’s a deal.” No doubts, not a single hesitation entered my thoughts—not because I was noble or brave, but because Le Poing Fermé, and especially Jackie Faercourt, needed me. It was the same need that saved me when he sent Vanessa to Prigha Castle. He had prohibited her from killing me then, and the Kerch must have been similarly forbidden. So long as I remained alive and uninjured, I could find a way to escape. I’d done it before. Surely I could do it again.
As if sensing my surrender, Sher-sah let out a low, soft growl. He stepped back a pace. I patted him again, stroking his shoulder.
The Kerch narrowed her eyes at the lion. “You must call off your beast. Send him away.”
Slowly, I slid from the lion’s back, but kept one hand on his side, over his ribs—or where his ribs should have been if he were flesh and bone. “That may be easier said than done. This beast has a mind of his own, and he’s very protective.”
Sher-sah growled, emphasizing my point. Several Brigands behind the Kerch shifted, shuffling their feet, giving each other uneasy looks. Perhaps they had mistaken me for an easy target—a spoiled, soft, defenseless young woman. Apparently when Le Poing Fermé had scryed my location, they hadn’t realized Sher-sah was part of the bargain.
The Kerch raised her huge pistol and thumbed the hammer. “The lion will not be a problem.”
“Do you think a bullet is enough to stop him?” A hint of humor flavored my words. “He’s mechanical. You can’t kill him.” Because he’s already dead.
“Put enough bullets in the right places, and anything can be brought down.”
Her point was a feasible one, not that she needed to know that. I arched an eyebrow and sneered. “You’re sure about that? You’re sure you can put him down before he puts you down?”
I raised both hands shoulder high, palms forward, fingers splayed in a gesture of surrender. Stepping away from the lion, I made my movements slow and deliberate, both for his sake and the Kerch’s. “I’ll come willingly. No one has to get hurt. Let the children go, and I’ll leave with you in peace.”
She turned to the man holding the Bianchi children and said something in a low, harsh tone. He nodded, lowered onto one knee, and set the children on their feet, but kept them close. Their struggles had eased as fear and uncertainty took over. The little girl held herself rigid, although her eyes were huge and round. The boy, obviously a bit younger than his sister, sniffed as tears streamed down his cheeks. Both had pinned their attention on me.
I slipped forward another step. “Sher-sah, take the children to Camilla. Protect them as if they were your own cubs.”
“Slowly.” The Kerch motioned me forward with a waggle of her gun.
Although I’d made up my mind to give myself up to the Kerch and her Brigands, each step forward fell heavier and heavier as though I were trudging through mud. Gideon’s going to be so, so angry about this. I hadn’t thought of him until that moment, and the fact that he hadn’t already appeared surprised me. When I left the circus train, I’d been certain he would follow as fast as he could.
When only a few yards remained between me and the Thaulgant Brigands, I stopped. “Now, let the children go.”
The Kerch tilted her head and squinted at me. Her glasses magnified her eyes so that she looked almost insectile, like a moth in her green silk tunic. “I think I have changed my mind. I have not gotten this far in life by letting potential profit walk away, and these little darlings could bring me a great deal of income.”
She jerked her head and shouted something in a foreign tongue. Her men responded by hurrying to surround me. They hadn’t gone far when a gunshot from somewhere behind me sent everyone skittering, including the man who had been holding the Bianchi children. He left them standing together as he backed away. Another shot threw up a spurt of dust at the feet of the thief standing closest to me.
Sher-sah roared.
The Bianchi children screamed, and then....
They disappeared.
My mind blanked at the improbability, but understanding soon clicked into place. My Thunder Cloak! The children’s sudden disappearance meant the princess had somehow followed me here.
“Get the kids and run, Genevieve!” I lurched toward Sher-sah, stumbling over my own feet. When I recovered my balance, I flung myself at him, running as fast as I could.
Another gun, most likely the Kerch’s pistol, answered the first shooter with big explosive booms that pounded against my eardrums. Everything swirled into a chaos of gunshots, yelling, and children’s screams. Over the pandemonium, a voice rang out, calling my name.
I glanced away from Sher-sah’s side and saw Gideon mounted atop a rearing Wallah. “Get out of here, Evie!” He leveled his crossbow and let off a bolt. Beside him, standing with his legs braced wide apart, Falak shot into the crowd with his ancient pistol.
The lion hunched, lowering his shoulder so I could mount. I raised a foot, preparing to throw my leg across the lion’s back, but an explosion of fire, heat, and pain tore through my chest with enough force and violence to toss me aside like an old used rag.
I hit the dirt rolling head over heels and gasped for a breath that refused to come. My chest burned as if an oil lantern had exploded inside me and the fire consumed my air.
“Evie!” Gideon screamed my name, but I was too breathless, too overwhelmed by a blaze of agony, to respond.
The gunfire diminished. So did the murky sunlight.
My pulse thumped in my ears, but it also faded.
And then...
Then...
Nothing.
