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Lightning, espionage, and magic—Inselgrau's fate lies in the hands of one thunder goddess with a heart of iron, one exiled spy, and one Magician haunted by chronic pain.
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CHAPTER 1
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For nearly two weeks, the Fantazikes had moored their armada in an empty field on the outskirts of Petragrad, a large port city crouching along the banks of the Batiysk Sea. Their airships creaked and groaned, iridescent balloons undulating in stiff winds like dancers stepping in time to a waltz. Lightning squirmed, hot and electric in the leaden sky, and the tang of ozone mingled with salty sea air.
With my hands raised, eyes closed, and senses tuned to every subtlety of the storm, I stood among the armada and directed a grand orchestra of booming thunder, crackling lightning, and howling winds—something I’d never believed myself capable of doing only a few weeks before. But Justina, the Fantazikes’ matriarch, had upheld her offer to help me train and develop my powers. Her rigorous drills combined with guidance from my grandfather’s spirit had helped me overcome my previous shortcomings.
The thunder and I were a duet, harmonious and synchronized. Let Le Poing Fermé come for me, now.
But gaining control of my powers and fighting Le Poing Fermé were only minor ordeals compared to the impossible task of reclaiming the Inselgrish throne. Like a fledgling learning to fly, I needed to swallow my fears and jump off my safe little branch. I only hoped I could flap my wings fast enough to keep from crashing.
“Still no word from Gideon?” I asked the Fantazikes’ matriarch as she hobbled to my side. “I should’ve received his report by now.”
“I’m sure he is safe.” Justina stared into the turbulent sky, and the winds played with the loose strands of her white hair like children winding a maypole. “That young man of yours is quite capable.”
I scrubbed my face as though I could wipe away my worries and fears. “Capable is an understatement when it comes to Gideon. Doesn’t mean I don’t regret sending him away or that I don’t fear for him while he’s gone.”
“It is the obligation of a queen to make those difficult choices and suck on her regrets like sour grapes. Or you could flee now, call your guardian back, and run to the far corners of the continent together. Travel to Zhuyueguo and hide in a small village. Get married, change your name, make babies.”
“A few months ago, I would have seriously considered that option.” Well, except for the making babies part.
“What made you change your mind?”
I smiled, took her hand, and kissed her wrinkled knuckles. “You, my lady. You care for your people and protect them from being corrupted by selfish forces. They have thrived under your leadership. I care for the people of Inselgrau in the same way and want to see them flourish.”
I had always loved the citizens of my country, but in a detached, theoretical way. I had been complacent and spoiled, relying on my father to bear the burden of caring for our people. In his absence, there had been a void of power and too many people with self-interested motivations vying to fill it. Inselgrau deserved a leader who cared for its people more than herself.
I didn’t know if I was that person, but I wanted to be.
For the first time in months, I started to believe I could be.
“You’ve taught me how to tame the thunder, Justina. Perhaps you’ll return to Inselgrau with me and teach me how to tame a country.”
She threw back her head and hacked a toothless cackle. “There is not enough gold in the world, my girl, to pay for such a lesson. It is either something you have in your blood, or not.”
“Do you think it’s in my blood?”
She shrugged her thin, hunched shoulders and cinched her shawl around her neck, warding off the breeze. “Are you asking me to tell you your fortune?”
Magic and Magicians were real, and I could make lightning bow to my will with a thought. So perhaps it wasn’t so strange that Justina could see into the future, even if it was only through a hazy window. “No, I don’t think it would help.”
She cackled again. “Fate is no rigid road, paved in unmoving stones. It is more like a river with strong currents. But rivers can be dammed. Trenches can be dug to re-direct their movement. I can tell you what I see for you in the future, Evie, but you have enough will to force the river to flow any way you want it to go and that is what matters most.”
A blush crawled up my neck and settled in my cheeks. “I already promised you my loyalty, Justina.” The Fantazikes’ matriarch hadn’t taken me in and trained me out of the pure goodness of her heart. In return for her hospitality, we’d made more than a few deals guaranteeing the long-term safety of her clan—deals that would forever render me, Evelyn Stormbourne, patron queen of the Fantazikes. “You don’t have to win my favor with excessive flattery. Save that for when I’m actually wearing a crown.”
With a swipe of my hand, the lightning calmed and the bruised skies healed, giving way to a late afternoon sky full of chalky clouds and milky light. The Fantazikes’ airships settled. Their captains capered across their decks, hurrying to stow their lightning rigs. I had been useful to them, and therefore not unwelcome, but their latest fair had come to an end. They had packed up their booths, boxing rings, trinkets, and decorations in preparation for the journey to their next destination.
I hadn’t planned on moving along with them and neither had they invited me.
When Gideon had left for Inselgrau, he’d vowed to send notice of his safe arrival. He was supposed to have dispatched a report on the state of my former kingdom. He was also supposed to have named the place and time where we’d convene to discuss what actions to take next. Yet, it had been four weeks and I’d heard nothing from him. We’d made no contingency plans because he’d insisted we wouldn’t need them. Contingency plans meant preparing for failure, and I never would’ve worked up the courage to begin if I’d allowed myself to anticipated defeat.
For the umpteenth time that day, I stared at the road leading from Petragrad, hoping to spot a messenger riding out from the local church, bringing me Gideon’s correspondence.
Justina squeezed my shoulder. “Come, girl. You’ll have supper with my kin tonight.”
I nodded, unable to speak past the swollen lump in my throat. Where are you, Gideon? Please be all right.
***
Justina’s family occupied the largest ship in the Fantazikes’ fleet, and I sat among them at a crowded dinner table in the ship’s massive galley. Their voices bounced back and forth, talking over, around, and through each other in a dozen different languages. They passed bottles of wine. Dishes smelling of garlic, paprika, curry, and basil zoomed from person to person. I took enough from each bowl to be polite and forced myself to chew and swallow, but my worry for Gideon had filled my stomach with a ball of ice. At Justina’s request, Malita and Niffin had also joined us, and Malita noticed my thin appetite and sour mood.
“It is good, Evie.” She nudged my elbow. “Eat.”
I raked my fork through a pile of yellow rice dotted with pepper flakes and crushed nuts. “I’m not very hungry.”
“Worried?” She snagged a roll from a basket passing over our heads and split it open. Steam escaped in thin, curling clouds.
I nodded and passed the butter crock.
“We go see the kareeyatids tonight, yes?” Malita asked. “Maybe they have his note.”
“That was the plan. You’ll come with me?”
Eyebrow arched, she gave me a tart look, an obvious pronouncement about the idiocy of my question.
“I didn’t want to presume.”
“I do not know presume.” In a short time, the Fantazikes’ legendary language skills had rubbed off on my friend. She now spoke passable Inselgrish along with a smattering of other Continental languages. Her mind was sharp, an asset an aspiring queen should seize for her own benefit, but Malita had her own burdens to sort through, and I hesitated to add mine to her collection.
“I hoped you would go with me,” I said, “but it’s a long ride. Maybe you have something else you need to do instead.”
“I need to go.” Her gaze shifted to Niffin, and she frowned. “I need to breathe.”
Smothering a snicker, I stuffed a mound of rice in my mouth. In only a few months, Malita and Niffin had become like an old couple settled in their ways. They were loving and sweet, except when they bickered. Which was often. “What if Niffin insists on coming with us?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and scowled. “Do not tell him.”
I coughed, almost choking on my rice. “Okay.” I cleared my throat and swallowed a sip of wine. “Meet me outside the Charosvardo after supper. We’ll ride into the city together.”
***
Adaleiz, my sweet gray mare, tramped a muffled clip-clop over the dusty trail leading from the Fantazikes’ fairgrounds. Malita shifted behind me, and the saddle creaked. She had threaded her thin brown arms around my waist, and her body heat soaked through my Thunder Cloak, a comfort against the chill night breeze blowing from the sea. She smelled like lilacs from the Tippany family’s homemade soap.
I savored the moment of quiet and the pleasure of my friend’s embrace. Before long, we’d likely be separated again, she on her own path and me on mine—unless I asked her to go with me to Inselgrau. Though I still wasn’t sure I should. “Have you decided on anything, yet?” I asked, patting her hand. “You and Niffin, I mean.”
They loved each other, obviously, but the stress of uncertainty strained their relationship. The Fantazikes had never let an outsider live among them, and Malita had told me she missed her family in Nri. Would she leave them to live in a faraway country, acting as an advisor to a foreign queen? It seemed unlikely.
“I will not ask him to leave his family for me.” She pressed her hand to her chest over her heart. “But I hurt when I think of my mother. My sister.”
“Homesick,” I said. “I know that feeling, and I don’t even have a home to long for.”
You have me, whispered a quiet voice in the back of my mind. My grandfather was silent for long stints, sleeping, perhaps, or whatever spirits did when they weren’t babbling in my ear, nagging me about the proper tone and posture for commanding storms. In the beginning, his ghostly presence had been strange, but I’d grown used to him. Now, I liked knowing I wasn’t entirely alone as far as family was concerned.
Indeed, I thought. I do have you, Grandfather, and I’m glad you’re here.
The dusty road turned to cobblestones, and both foot and carriage traffic multiplied as we entered Petragrad. Adaleiz’s hoofbeats blended with the traffic clatter, echoing off tall, brick buildings lining either side of the street. Flames flickered in the streetlamps, chasing away the evening gloom, and the city smelled of coal smoke, fish, and burning oil.
We followed the streets to the city’s center where Troitsky Zerkov, Trinity Church, stood with its three domed spires shaped like fat onions painted in bright patterns. After I’d tied Adaleiz’s reins to a nearby lamppost, Malita and I climbed the steps at the church’s rear entrance, and I banged on the door. When a red-robed kareeyatid answered, I crooked my knee in a brief curtsey. “Monahínja Vera?” I asked, naming the sister who’d promised to act as point-of-contact for Gideon’s messages, if and when he sent them.
When the priestess saw my face, her eyes blinked wide, and she grinned. “Zhdaht,” she said, holding up a finger—a command to wait, if I was interpreting her tone and body language correctly. She quietly closed the door, and Malita and I stood on the stoop together, waiting for her return. The church’s service entrance opened to an alley filled with empty crates, and I watched a rat creep out from one box and sniff the air before scampering away. Malita muttered something under her breath in a tone of disgust, but I didn’t ask her to interpret.
I began to wonder if we’d been forgotten when the door swung open again, and an older woman—Sister Vera, I presumed—stepped out. She clutched a folded bit of parchment tied in a string and sealed with a lump of beeswax. At the sight of it, my heartbeat surged, drumming an anxious rhythm.
“Evelyn, ja?” she asked in Dreutchish. When I nodded, she presented the parchment, and I tried not to snatch it from her fingers. “Gideon sent this for you. We received it yesterday afternoon, but we have not had time to send a messenger. I apologize, I know you must have been anxious to receive it.”
I curtsied and squeezed her hand, pressing a coin into her palm. “Thank you, sister. Your assistance is most appreciated.”
She nodded and retreated into the church’s dark interior, closing the door silently behind her. Malita and I remained on the stoop while I read Gideon’s message in the pale glow of the lantern hanging by the steps. “What does he say, Evie?”
“He says he’s well, but unable to meet me in person.” Frowning, I read ahead. “He’s got information that’s too dangerous to send in the open. He’s booked me passage on a ship leaving from Petragrad in two days, and he wants me to go incognito to—” My stomach dropped to my feet, and bitter acid rose in my throat. “H-he wants me to go to Steinerland. There’s someone there who’ll have more information for me. Someone he trusts.”
“Steinerland?” Malita recoiled, her dark eyes filling with horror. “Is that where...?”
“Indeed.” I stuffed Gideon’s note in my cloak pocket and tried to ignore the dread squirming like snakes in my gut. “It’s Lord Daeg’s stronghold.”
“What if Lord Daeg finds you?”
Descending the steps into the alley, I lead Malita back to my horse. “It’s too late for Daeg to transfer my birthright to his son like he’d planned. If he found me now, I’m not sure what he’d do. Try to force me to be his slave, maybe.” Or perhaps he’d simply kill me in a fit of jealous rage. Either way, Steinerland was the last place in the world I wanted to return to, but if I didn’t, I might never find my way back to Gideon, or to Inselgrau.
“Will you go?” Malita clutched my hand, staring at me with a puckered brow, her round face full of concern.
I nodded. “I don’t see how I have much of a choice.”
CHAPTER 2
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The late summer sun beat on my back and shoulders, raising sweat along my hairline. I abandoned the security of my Thunder Cloak, packing it away in my saddle bags and choosing, instead, to ride in only my muslin shirt and long indigo skirt—the customary attire I’d been wearing since joining the Fantazikes.
The Tippany family and I had said goodbye before, so this time we avoided making a fuss. In fact, their farewells were almost curt enough to sting. Puri handed me a bag of rolls and a hunk of cheese, gave me a brief hug, and disappeared into the Charisvardo’s cool interior. Melainey paused in her chores long enough to drop off packet of books from her personal collection. Emorelle watched with a detached gaze as Timony bowed and pressed a kiss to each of my cheeks. “I am certain we will see you again soon enough,” he said with a wink. Then he marched away, heading for the hold of his ship.
Emorelle patted my shoulder, but her expression seemed grim enough to raise hairs along my arms and neck. “Safe travels,” she said, her voice thin and brittle, and departed without a backward glance.
Niffin and Malita had made no appearance at all, and I left my horse near the Charisvardo’s starboard bow while I went looking for them. Oddly, I found them together, both packing another set of saddlebags strapped to a chestnut Rhemony, standing patiently outside Justina’s ship. Malita wore Fantazike attire as well, but while I preferred keeping my hair in a braid, she favored wearing a scarf wrapped around her close-cut curls, and today she had chosen a bright yellow one that complemented the ochre undertones in her brown skin.
“What are you two doing?” I asked, brow furrowed, hand on my hip.
Niffin’s mouth slit into a grim line. His broad-brimmed hat shaded his pale skin from the sun. “Coming with you.”
His words stunned me stupid. “Wait.... What?”
“Justina’s orders.” His nostrils flared. “Since there is now a treaty between the future queen of Inselgrau and the Fantazikes, she decided you needed an ambassador to go with you and make everything official. And, also, to help you keep your head attached to your shoulders long enough to reclaim your throne.”
I pointed at him. “And that ambassador is you?”
“Apparently.”
Huh. Now I understood the undercurrent of hostility swirling among the Tippany family. I swung my finger to Malita. “Did you have anything to with this?”
Her brown eyes flicked upward, and she stared innocently at the sky.
I huffed. “I don’t want to offend Justina, or imply that I’m not grateful, but I don’t want to start out on the wrong foot with you, Niffin. Your family, and your clan, have already given more than I could ask for. If you don’t want to come, I’ll talk to Justina—”
“No.” Niffin’s posture stiffened, and his violet eyes blazed with a cold, purple light. “If this is what Justina wants, then I will honor her orders.”
I returned his haughty gaze. “I won’t begin on the path to my throne by forcing people into my service or asking others to do it for me. Maybe my ancestors operated that way, but the old ways are dead, if you hadn’t noticed. If you come with me, you come of your own free will, or not at all.”
He adjusted a buckle on the saddlebag’s flap, snugging it tight. “I understand, and I appreciate that you would give me that option, but I respect Justina’s authority, and I choose to obey her.”
“What about your family?” I glanced at the Charisvardo’s gleaming balloon and considered the household living beneath it. How it must have pained them to prepare for take-off, knowing they were leaving their son behind to venture into uncertain danger with me, an outsider and exile who’d, too often, found herself in the crosshairs of powerful enemies.
“If my journey with you is successful, they will be honored by my actions.” He set his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself up into the saddle.
“And if we’re unsuccessful?”
He held out a hand to Malita, and when she took it, he tugged her into the seat behind him. “If we are unsuccessful, I think my family’s honor will be the least of my worries.”
“Malita, are you sure you want to come with me?”
She glanced at me over Niffin’s shoulder. “What can I do? I cannot stay with them.” She pointed at the airships. “I cannot walk to Nri. I cannot get home alone.”
Unable to offer Malita an alternate solution, I set aside my qualms. I’d have plenty of time to worry about her while we traveled. “You know we’re taking a ship, right?”
Niffin patted his pocket. “Justina made sure I have the necessary supplies to perform my duties.” By supplies I assumed he meant money, which relieved me because I certainly had none to spare.
Mounted and ready, we waited at the field’s edge and watched as the Fantazikes lifted off, one by one, rising into the skies like shimmering silver fish gliding through a vast, blue ocean. We watched until they turned to distant dots in the sky, until the last speck of the armada disappeared and only the three of us remained. Adaleiz stamped a foot as if eager to get moving. Without a word, I pushed my heel against her side and clicked my tongue. Malita and Niffin’s horse matched Adaleiz’s stride and we sauntered away, leaving the emptied fairgrounds behind us.
Separated from the bustling, loud, and vivid Fantazike community for the first time in weeks, I felt alone and weighed down by trepidation. My heart seemed heavier than usual, as if filled with sand, but I kept my thoughts to myself, suspecting Niffin wouldn’t have much sympathy for my worries. He’d left his family before, tracking the bandits who’d kidnapped Malita from her village, but he’d known then he would eventually return to his clan.
This time there was no such guarantee.
Nothing I could say would make him feel better about our situation, so I sealed my lips and contemplated the long journey before us.
***
We reached Petregrad before noon and found the Burya, the small steamship on which Gideon had booked my passage. After purchasing Niffin’s and Malita’s fare, we led our horses away from the docks, heading into the heart of the city.
“So,” Niffin said. “We are to call you Liesl, now, if I overheard your conversation with the ship’s purser correctly?”
“If I’m going back to Steinerland, it’s best if I’m as invisible as possible. I have a feeling no one in Dreutch will be rolling out a welcome mat for Evelyn Stormbourne.” I glanced at Niffin’s distinctively colored eyes and thought of the crimson hair hiding beneath his broad-brimmed hat. The pedestrians around us noted him, ladies leaning close to whisper to each other behind their hands as they passed. Traveling with a Fantazike was like traveling beneath a spotlight, but how did I ask him to camouflage himself without wounding his pride?
“You must change more than your name,” said Malita, as if reading my mind. She gestured at my skirt and blouse and at her own distinctive attire. “Niffin and I will change, too, yes?”
“Buying a new outfit and accessories is on my long list of things to do today.” I pointed down the street at a tall marble building with a wide staircase leading to a pair of heavy, red doors—the Banka Mirovoy. “First, though, is to collect the funds Gideon arranged for me.” Although his note had told me which bank to visit, it hadn’t explained where he’d gotten the money. Either he didn’t want me to know, or he was protecting his source—possibly the same source I was on my way to meet in Steinerland. “Then lunch, then shopping.”
“Shopping?” Niffin said drolly, rolling his eyes as I tied Adaleiz’s reins to a hitching post outside the bank. “Not my favorite pastime.”
I gestured at his vividly colored eyes. “You’ll draw attention—you can’t help it.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you expect me to do?”
I marched up the bank’s wide stairs, and a doorman swung open one heavy red door for me while my companions waited on the sidewalk. Pausing, I glanced back at Niffin. “Have you ever considered the aesthetic possibilities of shaded spectacles?”
I ignored Niffin’s haughty snort and crossed the bank’s threshold into the cool, quiet interior. My skirts swished across the black-and-white tiled floor, and I pinned my gaze straight ahead, ignoring the inquisitive and arrogant looks from my fellow bank patrons. My attire was appropriate, but humble, and compared to the bank’s customary clientele in their expensive gowns and fine hats, I looked like a wren among peacocks.
After a brief exchange with a short, bald bookkeeper with a drooping mustache, I exited with a pouch of coins large enough to strain my skirt pockets and make my head spin. I wondered how Gideon had arranged to give me such a large sum of money. Who was our mysterious benefactor? Or had Gideon robbed someone for my benefit? I pushed the unlikely and unsavory thought aside. When it came to my stalwart protector, there had always been more to him than he was willing to let me see.
Once a spy, always a spy....
Gideon was like the wooden nesting dolls popular among Varyngan children. Every time I removed one of his outer layers, I found there were still many more yet to be revealed.
CHAPTER 3
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With funds securely in hand, Niffin, Malita, and I followed directions the bank’s bookkeeper had given me when I’d asked him to recommend a reasonably priced inn. After handing off our horses to a stable boy, we set our saddlebags in our rooms, me in my own and Malita and Niffin sharing another, and met in the inn’s dining room for a quick lunch of thin pancakes with sour cream, pickled cucumbers and tomatoes, and fish seasoned with dill.
“What I’ve seen the average worker wearing on the streets of Petregrad,” I said, “is not so different from what I’ve seen the workers in Lord Daeg’s castle wearing. I think blending in as common folk is the best way to hide in plain sight.” Glancing at my distinctive, scarlet-haired companion, I frowned. “I’m happy to go into Steinerland alone, if abandoning your customs makes you uncomfortable, Niffin.”
He finished chewing, swallowed, and touched his napkin to his lips before answering. “I would not have you go alone. I would not be doing my job if I did. And the Fantazikes are more experienced with disguises than you think.”
“And you?” I met Malita’s gaze. “If you want, we’ll find a safe place for you to wait while I meet with Gideon’s contact.”
She flashed a smile and shrugged. “Where you and Niffin go, I go.”
After enquiring from the innkeeper about where to find local shops and markets selling the things we needed, Niffin left Malita and me on our own, promising to meet later for supper. We followed him outside and watched him disappear into the throngs of heavy traffic trundling along Petragrad’s sidewalks. “I hope he knows what he’s doing,” I said, my brows furrowing in doubt.
Malita flapped her hand in Niffin’s general direction. “He can care for himself. No worries.”
Frowning, I threw one last, doubtful look down the sidewalk. “We’ll have more fun without him anyway.” I turned the opposite direction and recalled the innkeeper’s directions as we weaved through the crowds, my fingers firmly laced through Malita’s to avoid being separated.
Several blocks later, we turned into an open-air market where merchants had laid out their wares—everything from cooking pots, teakettles, and horse tack to fruits, vegetables, and flowers. Vendors shouted, hawking their goods, their voices blending into a discordant jangle. Smells of cooking food, warm bodies, machine oil, and manure combined into a hostile, urban stench. I resisted the urge to pinch my nose as we pushed deeper into the market.
A clutch of dirty children in ragged clothes rushed past us, and the largest one, a girl not much younger than me, plowed into my shoulder. Stumbling, I yelped, and Malita clutched me against her side, holding me steady while I fisted my coin purse in my pocket. Niffin and the bank’s bookkeeper both had warned me about pickpockets.
“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.
My world was a smaller place without him.
—-END OF SPECIAL SNEAK PREVIEW—-
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