“We are the danger beyond the wall, Princess. At least some of us.”
“You? How is that possible?” She pulled a face like she’d bitten into a sour papaya. “Most people worship them, you, and would look forward to a return of the Keepers’ magic. Your people could stop marsh fever and bring rain to states in drought. In every story I tell, the Keepers are the heroes.”
“We’re not infallible or altruistic,” he explained carefully. “Our magic makes us treacherous. There are some who use their power for personal gain and to exert control over non-magic-wielders.”
“Exert control . . .” Her head tilted to the side, seeming to mull over his words. “Like slaves?”
“In the most extreme cases with the very strongest of our Mages,” said Jacaré, looking at one Keeper who had the ability. But Leão was sound asleep. “Yes, they could completely control four or five people, and exert milder control over a larger group.”
The girl laughed, but it sounded like more of a groan. “You think I can stop all of this from happening?”
“When we crossed the wall a few weeks ago, I could feel the barrier’s weakness. There are places where it’s thin, where someone or something from either side could push through.” He touched her arm gently, trying to drive home his point. “Your family has been part of the link to that power for hundreds of years. When we return you to the wall, the power will stabilize and Santarem will be safe.”
“I hate to give you the news, Jacaré, but your people are already here.” She waved in the general direction of Santiago. “And already controlling mine.”
Jacaré heard a quick intake of breath and caught the focused stares of both Tex and Pira.
“What are you talking about?”
“Vibora. She’s just like you: tall, thin, golden.” She talked around a mouthful of food, accenting her words with her spoon. “It wasn’t just the way she looked, but her name is from the old language too. Texugo, the badger. Jacaré, the alligator. Leão, the lion.”
“Vibora.” Jacaré felt a wrenching pain low in his chest, where an old wound sometimes throbbed. It felt freshly torn open, and he pressed a hand across the aching space expecting it to come back bloodied.
“She must be incredibly powerful, by your standards, as she was controlling about thirty of Inimigo’s servants.”
Jacaré was hauled to his feet, and he found himself face-to-face with an angry Tex. “It’s not the same Vibora.” He gave Jacaré a rough shake. “She didn’t have an affinity for fire and she’s three-hundred-years dead.”
“Of course it’s not her,” Jacaré heard himself say. “It’s a common name.”
But it wasn’t. And from the glint in Tex’s blue eyes, they both knew it.
“Tell us everything you know about this person,” Tex prompted. “Explain how you know she’s controlling people.”
“I don’t exactly, but she and Inimigo brought thirty servants with them who were all wearing thick, metal collars.” Johanna pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s hard to explain exactly, but they seemed too . . . subdued . . . even for well-trained servants.”
“Tell me about the collars,” Pira asked, digging around in her satchel. “Did it look like this? Silver, but dull?” She held up the dart, and Jacaré exchanged a confused glance with Tex.
What was Pira suggesting?
“I guess.” Johanna shrugged.
“What if . . .” Pira seemed to be speaking to herself, clenching the dart in her fist. “I can touch it, but I can’t sense it. Almost like it absorbs my essência.”
Tex shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Jacaré didn’t want to consider the implications. What if the collars were absorbing the wearers’ essência? Could it be stored for later use? How many people could be controlled? He rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead.
“Johanna, you love your brother,” Jacaré said, feeling as if he’d finally found the thing that would convince her to join them. “Do you want to see him as a slave?”
“What?” she snapped. “Of course not.”
“He’s a Performer. A descendant of the Keepers. Performers have more essência than other people—it’s what makes them so agile and quick.”
Johanna lay down on her blanket and turned her back to the fire, as if trying to ignore him.
“If the collars absorb essência, Michael will be one of the first people the other Keepers will target because he’ll feed them more power. And if the wall falls or if this . . . this Vibora gets her hands on other Performers to drain, then my crew doesn’t stand a chance to save Santarem.” He addressed the back of her head. “Please stop trying to escape. You could protect so many people.”
She was still for a very long time, long enough that he thought she’d fallen asleep.
Frustrated, angry, he stood to prepare for bed.
“I’ll do it,” Johanna said, her voice quiet against the blanket. “If it means protecting my brother and the Performers, I’ll do what you ask.”
Chapter 86
Rafi
Rafi hated to admit it; Vibora was good at finding the trail. She even found the small campsite where the group had stopped for a few hours. Not that it mattered, the fire was long cold.
“How are they making such good time?” He dusted ash off his pants.
“I don’t know, my lord,” Vibora said as she walked around the campsite, studying the ground for more clues. “They must have very well-conditioned mounts.”
“They have my horse. He’s a good animal, but there’s no way he could keep up this pace.”
“There are drugs they could have given their horses. It extends the animals’ ability to run without rest, but shortens their lifespans.”
“During the Ten Years’ War, some soldiers took drugs that inhibited their ability to feel pain and increased their energy.” Rafi couldn’t imagine doing something like that to his body. He’d been taught that a warrior must be able to feel pain to know his limits. “Is it something similar?”
“Yes.” She put her hands on her slim hips. “It’s old medicine. Easy enough to find and mix—”
“If you can make it, do.” He strode back to his horse without looking to see if she followed. “I sent birds to every major town along the northern and western roads. We can pick new mounts at any stop.”
“Yes, my lord. I’ll find the ingredients when we rest for the night.”
Rafi swung into Nudger’s saddle, feeling guilty about potentially poisoning Dom’s horse, but knew his brother would understand. He’d seen a different side of Dom the morning they left—a focused, controlled side he never expected from his sibling. Rafi knew it was born out of fear and anxiety, but it was good to know his brother had grit.
No matter what happened now, Santiago would be safer as soon as Inimigo rode home. The duke intended to leave Maribelle behind for an extended visit, so she could “become accustomed to country life.”
More likely Inimigo wants a spy in place, searching for our weaknesses, and a reminder of what’s waiting for me at home.
Not that Rafi would agree to a betrothal unless some serious changes were made. Like an agreement from Inimigo not to pursue the throne, and that would never happen.
Snout rode beside him but hadn’t said much since he’d discovered a scrap of bloody linen stuck to the thorns of a palo barracho tree.
Rafi could feel the material rubbing against the skin at his wrist, where he’d tied it around the narrow band of silver he wore there.
“She tried to run, my lord.” Snout pointed out crushed weeds and broken twigs from Johanna’s attempted escape. “One of them knocked her down, and let her tumble into the tree. She was hurt, so they rode away from here double. Can you see these prints are much darker?”
Rafi couldn’t tell the difference, and he didn’t car
e. Someone had hurt Johanna, and they were going to pay for it tenfold.
He rubbed the bit of linen as he rode, a tactile reminder of his mission.
Chapter 87
Pira
The horses drank like they’d been running across a desert. Their sides heaved as they gulped, their coats gleaming with sweat under the evening sunset.
Pira knelt to fill her canteen and took a few long swigs of the clear, cold water before splashing a bit on her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and the tunic she wore over her leather breeches was sweat stained. She looked awful compared to the pampered little princess.
The girl was attractive in an obvious way, petite and fair-skinned, with small hands and delicate features. Pira wanted to hate her, but she had to give Johanna credit for a toughness that belied her size. She didn’t complain about the hard ground or rough food, and didn’t cry when her attempted escape left her scraped and bleeding.
Leão certainly hadn’t missed Johanna’s beauty and gumption, consoling her and patting her on the back when she needed comfort.
It was infuriating and charming all at the same time.
Pira picked up a flat rock and skipped it across the stream, trying to distract herself from thoughts of that night, of that kiss, of the way her body fit perfectly next to his.
You’re being ridiculous. She grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them all into the stream. It was nothing. It meant nothing.
“Hey,” a voice called from over her shoulder.
Pira jumped. Leão shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on her, but his natural ability to be silent and her loud thoughts had overwhelmed her senses.
“The horses are almost done drinking. I’ll be back to camp in a few moments.”
“Actually.” He took a couple of steps closer to her, but the look on his face was anything but inviting. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
She busied herself gathering the nearest horse’s reins, so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Sure. What do you need?”
He stopped and took the reins out of her hands. “Johanna could be the leader of Santarem someday. I think it would be good if we made an effort to befriend her.”
Pira gave a half laugh and shook her head. “Too bad there isn’t a hayloft or a Performer’s wagon convenient.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” His green eyes were wide, his mouth open in shock.
“A perfect political match. Give her a few kisses and I’m sure she’ll be amenable to whatever diplomacy you have planned.” The words spilled out of her mouth and she had no way to dam them. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried it already.” Oh Light. Stop talking.
“You can’t honestly think . . . Miriam was—”
“You even remember her name!” She forced a cold smile to her lips. “I’m impressed.”
“Pira.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “The night I kissed you—”
“Was one I’m sure you’d rather forget.” She stepped past him, backing toward their camp. “Me too. Go ahead and finish up with the horses. I have other duties to attend to.”
Chapter 88
Rafi
They’d gained ground on the kidnappers. Both Snout and Vibora agreed that the tracks were fresher, but they were still more than a day behind.
Rafi called for a short stop where both the men and animals could rest.
He settled by the small cooking fire and pulled his lumpy saddlebag toward him. He’d been too involved with last-minute details to take the case Snout had found in Marin’s hands out of the bag, and the metal rectangle brushed against his calf as he rode. It was a constant reminder of why he was on the trail and the person he was looking for—not that Johanna was ever far from his mind—but he felt battered enough without the bruise the box inflicted.
If I wrap it in my cloak, it will dull the edges. When he tugged the box free, the entire lid tore off and a few coins spilled out across Rafi’s lap. “Blast it.”
He dropped the coins inside, where they disappeared between sheets of paper. He slid them aside, wanting to make sure that all of Johanna’s money was accounted for, and saw something that made him freeze.
It couldn’t be . . .
Trying not to disorder the papers, he reached for an envelope with a navy-colored blob of wax. He lifted the paper and tilted it toward the light. Sure enough, it was the hawk from his family’s seal.
It’s probably a request for a performance, he convinced himself, but the wax had never been broken.
There was no name on the outside of the envelope, but it was his father’s seal—Rafi’s seal now—so the letter had something to do with his dukedom.
With a hint of guilt he opened it. The handwriting was cramped and hurried; blots marred some of the lines, but it was completely recognizable. The message was undoubtedly from his father, but the words it contained were life altering.
This letter is to assert that the girl raised by the acrobat Arlo is the child of King Wilhelm and Queen Christiana. On the event of my death, these words are to stand as a testimony of my knowledge and actions concerning the Princess Adriana, who is known to herself and her family as Johanna Von Arlo.
The letter described how Arlo, under the king’s command, had smuggled the child out of the Citadel by means of a rear gate that few besides Wilhelm and his closest confidants knew of.
The political environment of Santarem is dangerous, and the princess’s enemies are many and widespread. For her safety, she’s being kept at Performers’ Camp and hidden until there is an appropriate time to return her to the throne.
Arlo is the bearer of the king’s emerald pendant—a flawed green stone, set with a golden cap. The edges of the cap are scalloped. Wilhelm used this pendant rather than a sigil ring to seal all his correspondence and political documents. Arlo will give the necklace to the princess when she comes of age. Each of the dukes will recognize it as a talisman, and its bearer as their leader.
“You brought your accounting books with you, my lord?” Vibora dropped beside him, stretching her long legs toward the fire with a sigh. “I didn’t think you were the type to be so concerned over your daily finances.”
“Ah . . .” Rafi slipped the letter into his shirt. “You can never be ignorant when it comes to the care of a ducal estate.” He sounded like a fool, but Vibora didn’t seem to notice.
“If you can’t sleep, you should at least eat and lie down, my lord.”
He couldn’t sleep now even if someone mixed passionflower in his food.
Johanna was the princess. His father had always known . . . had always known his betrothed was alive and could take the throne. Yet the duke had done nothing about it.
Because it could lead to civil war. Inimigo would stop anyone who tried to rule Santarem and this time Belem might fight at his side.
Suddenly the evidence was stacked against the overweight lord. The attack on Johanna in the forest, the theft of her necklace, and the killing of her family—all of it to stop her from claiming the kingdom that was rightfully hers.
“At least your muscles will rest.”
Had she said something else? Rafi grunted and rubbed his eyes, feigning exhaustion.
A quick look at the group proved he was the only one having difficulty relaxing. Snout stirred the thin stew in aimless circles. Both Rafi’s guardsmen held their heads in their hands, one already dozing off. Lucas, Vibora’s collared servant, had collapsed on top of his bed roll without crawling under the blankets.
The horses chomped in their feedbags, seeming more energetic than their human companions. Vibora’s medicine—whatever it was—had done its job for the animals.
“You wouldn’t by chance have a miraculous energy pill for humans, would you, Vibora?”
“Well . . .” She took a bite of dried fruit and chewed slowly. “There is something I could try that may
refresh you, but there’s no guarantee it will work.”
Snout cleared his throat and tapped his spoon against the side of his bowl. His distrust for Vibora and her skills hadn’t faded, no matter the miles they’d traveled together.
“Perhaps in the morning,” Rafi said, pulling his blanket around his shoulders. “No need to refresh me till then.”
Vibora’s smile held, but her eyes seemed to dim a bit. “Yes, my lord. In the morning.”
Chapter 89
Leão
Something is wrong.
Something is wrong.
Something is wrong.
Leão gasped, hauling in lungfuls of air like a swimmer who’d been under too long. The fire had burned down to flickering coals, giving him just enough light to see the two forms on his right. Jacaré and Texugo were still sleeping, both resting peacefully. On his left, the princess was curled up on her side.
He scanned the camp’s perimeter, trying to find a familiar shadow.
“Go back to sleep, Leão.” Pira’s voice came from somewhere above and behind him.
Rolling to his feet, he moved toward the tree she’d perched in. Her legs dangled from a branch even with his head. “Did you hear or see anything? I felt . . .”
“You had a nightmare. The only thing I heard was your thrashing.” Her face was turned away from the fire, protecting her ability to see by the moonlight. “Or maybe that was just an excuse to move closer to Johanna.”
He wanted to reach out and touch her calf, to stop the one leg that was swinging idly, but kept his hands at his sides. Touching her would only get him into trouble. “I have no interest—”
“There’s a herd of marsh deer out there,” she continued, ignoring him. “I crossed their tracks when I came back from the stream.”
“I could have sworn I felt something with a strong essência.” He closed his eyes and focused, trying to sense anything besides the three other members of his crew and Johanna.
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