by Maya Motayne
Brave. He had something to make him brave.
He walked to the far side of his room where the chest he’d kept on the ship was left in the corner. “Abrir,” he said. At his word, the lock clicked open. Alfie stared at its contents.
Within it was every book, talisman, and trinket Alfie had acquired while away from home.
The last three months of his grief kept in a box.
Alfie pulled a stub of a violet candle out of the chest. A woman in a marketplace in the winter kingdom of Uppskala had sold it to him and told him that he must burn it at midnight under a waxing moon to speak with a lost loved one. He’d been so desperate that he did for a week before tossing it in the chest, never to be used again. Then he decided to stop looking for things that might call his brother back and start seeking whatever would give him the power to enter the void and find his brother, which led him to Rayan’s games.
Alfie had once drunkenly confided in one of the players about looking for magic that could pull propio from one body to another. Then he could take that criminal’s propio, open the void his brother had been spirited into, and go find him himself.
The man had simply said, “Well, if what you’re looking for even exists, I’d bet that type of spellwork was cooked up in Englass. Sounds a bit like their style, eh?”
That nameless man had lit a fire in Alfie’s mind. It was true. The last time bruxos dabbled in such foul spellwork, Alfie’s ancestors had been conquered. By Englass.
Englass believed magic belonged to Englassen nobility and no one else, which was why they’d developed siphoning spellwork to take magical energy from those of Castallan in order to give it to Englassen nobles. If the practice of moving propio magic from one body to the other was being studied somewhere, it had to be in Englass.
Back during enslavement, if a Castallano was discovered with a moving shadow, they were killed in fear of being able to resist the siphon spellwork.
Alfie would have been murdered before he could walk.
It was despicable for him, a Castallan prince, to even think of studying Englassen practices. Yet here he was. Alfie kneaded his temples with his fingers. Why was he still doing this? Still looking for solutions when, logically, there was no way anyone could be saved from what had happened to Dez. Still, even if his forays into the illegal led to nothing, every time he added an object to this chest, it was a way of saying, I’m still looking for you; I will always look for you.
He hoped that wherever his brother was, he knew that.
Alfie scoured the chest until his hand closed around something small, something to make him brave. He balanced it on his palm. It was a wooden dragon figurine on a gold chain. The dragon had once been a bright silver, but now the paint was chipping.
Dez had given it to him when he was eight years old and nightmares kept sending him crawling into Dez’s bed. Dez had told him to be brave, but Alfie had never felt very brave.
“Well, I made you something that’ll help you be brave always,” Dez had said.
Alfie perked up at that. “Really?”
“Really.” Dez reached into his pocket and opened his palm to show Alfie a silver dragon figurine. When Alfie reached to stroke its nose, the dragon nuzzled his knuckles.
“But how will it keep me brave?”
“Well,” Dez said. “If you want to be valiente, you need a dragon to protect your bravery for you. Keep it safe.” Alfie quirked an eyebrow. “Trust me. I’m going to open the dragon’s mouth and when I do, you give me your fiercest, bravest roar, all right? Just like a dragon.”
Alfie was skeptical, but if Dez was suggesting it, it was worth a try. Dez tapped the dragon’s nose and it stretched its small mouth open. Alfie roared his wildest roar. He laughed when Dez reared back, pretending that the roar had hit him like a physical force. Then Dez tapped the dragon’s snout again and it closed its mouth.
“We got it!” Dez said. “The dragon caught your bravery right in its mouth. Safe and sound.” The dragon stretched its jaws in a yawn on Dez’s palm. “Your bravery will always be here with the dragon. So you can stay brave all night, okay? No more nightmares.”
Dez tilted his open palm toward Alfie’s. The dragon ambled onto Alfie’s hand before curling into a sleepy spiral on his palm. In that moment, Alfie had felt invincible.
On the day Dez had disappeared, the dragon, too, fell still as death.
Alfie had hidden the dragon away because it hurt too much to see it. Tonight he pulled the chain over his neck and let the dragon fall against his chest. He was going to need every ounce of bravery he could muster, because he was going to have to become the king that Castallan needed and hope that Dez would forgive him.
He locked the chest with a word of magic and crawled into bed. On his bedside table sat a long-necked bottle. Alfie took a swig of the sleeping tonic and chased it with a swig from a bottle of tequila, hoping it would calm him and let him rest easy. The combination left him woozy and heavy-limbed. He held the dragon until, at last, sleep took him.
It was only when sleep whistled its first notes through him that he realized he’d seen one of the faces in the thief’s journal somewhere—on a wanted poster.
7
The Bet
If Finn had a peso for every time she woke up with a sack over her head, she wouldn’t need to do the things that led to her waking up with a sack over her head.
She’d jolted awake in an alley wearing a cloak that wasn’t hers with her hands and ankles tied together like a trussed-up turkey. She’d expected to see the boy in the fox mask, but instead she woke to the sight of a man she’d never met, a burlap sack in his meaty hand. When she bucked and fought in his arms, he laughed and said, “What? Got plans for the night? You’ll have to reschedule. You’re expected at family dinner.”
Finn froze in his arms. She had no family. Not unless he counted Ignacio. A shiver flitted up her spine. Did this have to do with him? Then the man’s fist came down against her temple and there was only darkness.
She woke, for the second time that night, as her center of gravity shifted. She squirmed in the meaty arms that held her, and was dropped into the chair with a plop. The sack was wrenched off her head, pulling a few strands of her hair with it.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark cellar, she trained her expression into one of confidence, as if she were lounging on a throne instead of tied to an uncomfortable stool in a cellar where no one could hear her scream. Her shadow flared out around her, like the wings of a great bird.
“If it isn’t the Face Thief,” a voice called from the darkness before her. A woman stepped forward and sat in the empty, high-backed chair a few paces ahead of Finn. Her grin revealed a row of yellowed teeth. Finn had a feeling that this wasn’t the place where business began, but where it ended with screams and blood.
Beside the woman’s feet was a bucket. Her shadow curled around it, predatory. “I’ve heard of you, the famous face-changing thief making a name for herself in my city. I’d hoped we’d cross paths at some point, but not under such, let’s say, unpleasant circumstances.”
“Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”
The woman gave a laugh. “It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t know me.” She leaned forward, her voice tapering down into a whisper, as if they were exchanging secrets. “Someone who doesn’t know how afraid they should be when they wake up in this cellar.”
Finn glowered at her, a mask to hide the pounding of her heart. “I only know people who are worth knowing. Sorry you didn’t make the maldito cut.”
“Let’s get to the reason we’re here, shall we? I’m Kol. Surely you’ve heard my name. Maybe even seen my work?”
Finn stilled in her chair. She’d only been in the city for the past month, but even she’d heard of Kol and her deadly gang, known as la Familia. Still, Finn wouldn’t let the fear show on her face. Kol was a big dog and Finn had every intention of teaching her to sit.
“Now, before I ask you to return the bo
oks you stole from a game my men were poised to win, I’d like to show you what happened to the last pendejo to deny me what I asked for.”
Kol leaned over in her chair and reached into the bucket with one hand, then pulled out a decapitated head by its mop of dark hair. Blood dropped from the open neck, and the man’s tongue slipped out of his dead mouth. Finn’s stomach roiled and pitched.
“Now that you know the stakes, that’s enough of that!” Kol dropped the head back into the bucket. Finn heard the sound of flesh slapping against something wet and willed herself not to vomit. Kol held up her hands and a woman appeared from behind her to wipe them with a handkerchief. “Thank you, Mija.”
“My pleasure, Madre,” the woman said obediently, then retreated back into the shadows.
Finn heard Kol’s minions shifting in the dark around her—well-muscled men and women trained to snap necks first and ask questions second. “You’re disgusting,” Finn said to her.
“No, I’m impatient.” Kol tapped the bucket with her foot. “And greedy when it comes to what’s mine. Those books were already guaranteed to a buyer for a hefty price, worth more than your life.” She looked Finn up and down. “Twice over. Now, tell me where you hid them.”
The thief swallowed thickly. “I don’t have them.”
Kol tilted her head, her frighteningly cordial smile wavering. “Don’t lie, muchacha.”
“I’m not,” Finn growled, her cheeks warming. She’d rather lie and say she’d sold them than admit the truth. “They were stolen from me.”
A silence stretched through the cellar. Kol stared at her blank-faced before throwing her head back in an uproarious laugh that stretched long and wide like an accordion.
She waved her hands, a signal to her minions that they too could laugh. Then the entire cellar boomed with their guffaws. Finn scowled, her jaw tense.
“Some thief you are! And to think I was the slightest bit threatened by you.” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “With you stealing some of my business and all.”
“Just let me go and you and your thick-necked goons can laugh all night long.”
Kol raised a single hand and her minions fell silent. “I don’t think so. You see, you still owe me for those books. And you’ll be paying off that debt by working for me.” She spread her arms wide as if inviting Finn to embrace her. “Welcome to la Familia, Mija.”
Finn’s stomach tightened. The last time she was made someone’s daughter, things didn’t go too well.
After her parents died and Ignacio had taken her as his ward, she’d spent years working with him in circuses all over Castallan. He had a charm that was palpable, hypnotic, making him a talented ringmaster. Ignacio loved the attention, loved to watch people lean forward and heed his words, his commands. She’d grown up working odd jobs at the circuses while he performed, but they never stayed with one show for long. As soon as Finn began to make friends, to fit within the fabric of a mismatched circus family, Ignacio would demand that they leave. It took years for her to realize he didn’t want to leave because he was restless. He made them leave because he didn’t like to watch her make friends, to see her want to be with anyone but him.
He’d always hated when she left his side without express permission. On most days, she’d been afraid to test him, to show even an ounce of independence. But in her more rebellious moments she’d disobeyed and accepted the beatings, if only to spite him, to prove that she was strong enough to take it. On one such day, she’d disappeared for hours to explore the city their circus was visiting.
When she’d returned, Ignacio closed the distance between them and clapped a hand across her face, jerking her neck with the strength of the slap. When she only stared at him, her cheek stinging, her chin high, and her chest rising and falling with bottled anger, he smiled down at her.
“I’m not angry,” he said, his hands finding her shoulders. “I knew you would come back. You always do. Because you know, just as I know, that no one else will have you, that your place is here with me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead then, his hand mussing her hair. “Forever.”
That final word poured through her, cold and fast, like an eel slithering through icy water. He’d said it to her before, but on that night, his words smothered her with panic. Would this be her life, forever? That was the night she’d escaped, the night she’d made him feel as powerless as he’d made her feel before running for the dock and sneaking onto the first ship she saw. She would not be pulled into another family again. She wouldn’t let Kol secure a new collar around her throat and jerk her into line. She would die first.
“I’m not joining you,” Finn snarled.
“You took what was mine, Face Thief. And a thief who gets her own supply stolen off her . . .” Kol made a clucking sound with her tongue. “That’s not a thief at all. That’s a pretender. You’re lucky I’m even offering you a chance to learn from a real thief. I expect you to join ranks without a fuss. But I’m prepared for a fuss. You know of my propio, girl. Save yourself the trouble.”
She knew fighting was a waste of strength. Kol had a monstrous propio—with a look she could stifle anyone’s magic at the drop of a hat. There was no chance of getting out of here alive. But Finn never did anything quietly. She sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
“So, what say you?” Kol asked, leaning forward in her chair.
Finn jutted her tied hands upward. Thin shards of rock shot up from the ground to cut through the rope binding her wrists together. She pulled her hands apart.
Kol’s minions rushed out of the shadows to grab her. Her ankles still bound, she pummeled one with a volley of rock she pulled from the cellar ground. She encased her fist with stone and punched the next one squarely in the nose. But then, in one terrifying moment, it all stopped. Her hold on the earth was severed, the rock falling from her fist in sad fragments. Kol’s minions converged on her in the space of a breath. The last thing she saw before a meaty fist pounded into her jaw was Kol’s smiling face. That’s how easy it was for her to rob Finn of every ounce of magic that ran through her veins. Just a moment, a look.
She flailed back and forth between the henchmen, who landed kicks and punches on every spot they could reach. There must’ve been ten of them waiting in the shadows. One unbearable kick to her ribs doubled her over. She watched blood dribble out of her nose and onto the floor.
“Put her down,” she heard Kol say. “Some children just need discipline is all.”
A broad-shouldered woman shoved her to the ground, right into the puddle of blood from her nose. She forced Finn onto her stomach and pegged her face to the dirt with a foot on her cheek.
Finn panted, taking in dirt with each breath. Her whole body rang with pain. Kol grinned down at her from her seat as if Finn were an honored guest.
“After all that excitement, you know what I’m in the mood for,” Kol said, cocking her head as if she were mulling it over. “Sancocho.”
Finn froze on the ground, the thud of her heart suddenly louder.
“What was that one pub in the Brim called, the one with the stew everyone talks about? The famous sancocho?”
“The Apple Core Pub and Inn,” a voice behind Finn supplied.
A cold pit knotted her stomach. Kol knew where she lived. She must’ve been watching her for a while. Fear wound around her neck like a vise, choking her from the inside out.
“There is nowhere you can go where we won’t follow, Face Thief. You’ve got two options: join la Familia or die where you stand.”
“No,” Finn said, her voice splintering.
“‘No’ is not one of the two options.”
“I want a third.”
“I want what I’m owed. I want your loyalty, or I want your blood spilled at my feet.”
“Pick something you want, and I’ll steal it. Something of equal value for what you lost.” Finn’s voice was thin and rough, desperation leaking through the fissures and crevices. She hated the sound. “Anything. If I c
an’t get it done, then I’ll work for you.”
Kol cocked her head sideways. “And exactly what do I get out of this when I already have you right where I want you?”
“Everyone knows you like a good gamble, Kol,” she said. “Give me another chance to win my life back, and it’ll be that much sweeter when you take it from me.”
Silence stretched between them. Finn could taste blood pooling in her mouth.
“Sit her up,” Kol said.
They wrenched Finn back up and put her on her knees. Someone pinned her arms painfully behind her, nearly elbow to elbow. Kol stood from her chair and made her way to Finn. She gripped Finn roughly by the chin, running her callused thumb over the line of her jaw. Kol’s shadow surged toward Finn, like a beast closing in on its dinner.
Finn refused to give Kol the satisfaction of looking at her smug face. Instead she stared at the tattoo on the inside of Kol’s wrist—a bull with flared nostrils, its horns angled as if they might poke through Kol’s skin. Finn longed to take her dagger and shove it through the bull’s face until the tip of her blade wriggled out the other side.
“What did you do, hmm?” Kol asked. “What did you do that would make you never want to see your own face again? What made you bury it under all this magic?”
Even with a split lip and an eye swelling shut, Finn couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “I was born with a face like yours, but the gods were merciful enough to give me the power to hide it.”
Kol’s lip quirked. “Oh, I’m ugly. That’s the truth. And my propio, just as ugly. Underneath it all your face might be bonita, but with a gift like that, inside you must be as ugly as me. We’re a pair, I think.”
Finn hocked a loogie, slow and deliberate, and spat in her face. It dribbled down Kol’s cheek. Kol’s smile didn’t falter. She pressed her thumb on Finn’s lips, like a seal on a letter.
“I’ve dealt with much worse than a little spit, muchacha. When you join me, you’ll learn as much,” Kol said. Her minions laughed at that. Finn’s lips curled back until Kol’s rough thumb was pressed against the flat ridge of her teeth instead of the soft of her lips. Kol pulled her thumb away slowly, as if Finn were no danger to her at all. The realization stung her. She really was no danger to Kol. Kol had blocked her stone carving, and her henchmen had Finn on her knees.
