Johanna
The gentry whispered, shooting nervous glances at Inimigo as Fernando was escorted out of the dining hall.
“Forgive me for interrupting your meal, sirs and ladies,” Inimigo said, offering another half bow to the room. “If someone will direct us to our suites, we’ll leave you all in peace.”
Lady DeSilva seemed uncharacteristically flustered. Her staff hung against the back walls waiting for her to issue a command, but she didn’t act.
Johanna coughed and shot a look at Brynn.
“I’ll go get some fresh place settings, my lady,” Brynn said with a curtsy.
It worked, spurring Lady DeSilva into action. “Yes, please do. Join us, Duke Inimigo.” She eyed the crowd, silencing a dozen conversations around the room. “We extend hospitality to all our guests.”
“Thank you for your generosity, but my daughter and I are road weary. Tomorrow, perhaps, we’ll be more fit company.”
That’s doubtful, Johanna thought. The duke, his men, and his daughter fairly glistened as if fresh from the bath. The girl’s hair hung to her tiny waist like a solid sheet of black silk. They must have stopped outside the township to don their best clothes. There was no way the girl could have ridden comfortably in a dress cut so close to the skin. It had a high collar and long sleeves, but there was no question of the girl’s shape. She had a beautiful figure, tall and well rounded with a generous bust and hips.
“Before we retire,” Inimigo continued, “I’d like to introduce my daughter, Maribelle.” He held out a hand, and the girl curtsied deeply to Lady DeSilva.
Johanna could hear the seams on the dress screaming, expecting them to pop under the strain, but the material shifted without tearing. Pity.
“I hope she’ll find friends among the DeSilvas.”
“I hope she will as well.” Lady DeSilva’s words lacked conviction, but she gave the girl a polite head nod.
Johanna used the distraction to sneak into the kitchen, earning a wink from Dom as she went.
Brynn and Cook were deep in conversation, heads tilted together, voices low as they dried the huge stack of dishes at the end of the washing line. The smell of lemon-scented soap hung heavy over the vats of boiling wash and rinse water.
“Johanna, did you hear?” Brynn asked as she rubbed a plate dry. “Inimigo brought slaves with him. Thirty of them.”
“How do you know they’re slaves? I thought Inimigo had to release all his captives as part of the treaty.”
“He did, but rumor says he buys people from the Wisp Islands. All the servants he brought with him have got collars around their necks. They remind me of the dogs in Lord Rafi’s—” She cut off with a squeak, eyes focused on something over Johanna’s shoulder.
“Pardon me.” The voice was feminine, deep and sultry, but there was something in the sound that made Johanna twitch like someone had run their fingernail from the base of her skull to her tailbone. “I’m looking for the housekeeper.”
Johanna took the towel out of Brynn’s hand and stepped into her place beside Cook, studying the newcomer in her peripheral vision. The woman stood a head taller than Brynn, making her as tall as Rafi. Her blond hair had been swept away from her face into a tight twist, highlighting dagger-sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin. A few lines radiated from her dark brown eyes. Taken individually her features were a bit too angled for true beauty, but somehow the collection resulted in a stunning face. She was dressed in Inimigo’s colors, but not in anything you could call livery. Her dress draped across her body in delicate folds, baring one shoulder, and was belted at the waist with wide golden links. Whoever she was, she had access to plenty of coin.
“We don’t have a housekeeper,” Brynn said as she untied her apron. “I’m the head maid. How can I help you?”
“No housekeeper? It’s impressive you manage so well.” The woman said it so it wasn’t quite a compliment.
If Brynn noticed the derision in the woman’s tone, she was too well trained to comment. “Was there something you needed?”
“I’m Vibora, Duke Inimigo’s steward. We brought a large staff—servants, personal dressers and so forth—but it seems there isn’t enough room.” She gave Brynn an almost smile. “If there aren’t enough beds here in the house or in the barracks, perhaps there is a place where the servants can put up a few of our traveling tents.”
Johanna shivered despite the hot plate in her hands and the humidity of the room. Something about this woman made her skin crawl.
“I’m sure we can find some accommodations, if they don’t mind sleeping several to a room.” Brynn pointed to the doorway that led to the living areas.
“Just a moment.”
Cold fingers touched the back of Johanna’s neck, and she followed them to the face of Inimigo’s steward.
“I heard the DeSilvas hired a Performer for this occasion.” She tapped Johanna’s bare neck twice before dropping her hand to her side. “I so enjoy a good performance, and look forward to seeing more of you during my stay.”
Johanna resisted the urge to step out of the woman’s reach. “Thank you, my lady. I’m always pleased to have a receptive audience.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Vibora let herself be led away by Brynn, and Johanna scrubbed at her neck with the drying cloth. The feeling of invasion remained.
Cook grunted and handed Johanna another plate. “I’m shocked a woman like that is Inimigo’s steward.”
“Because she’s a woman?” A strange, disturbing woman?
“No, because she’s so lovely.” Cook began stacking the dishes in a hutch near the kitchen’s entrance, peeking around the corner so she could see where Brynn had taken their guest.
“Do you think I’ll need to clear my brothers out of my room? Would it help if we went back to the wagons tonight?”
“Goodness! Didn’t anyone tell you?” Cook eyed the serving staff, searching for the failed messenger in their midst. “Master Thomas came and took the boys home after you began Storyspinning. He said there was some business with your mother and thought it was best if you all went home for the evening.”
Of course he did. Thomas was nothing if not the peacemaker. Marin had likely returned to the empty wagons, angry and embarrassed, and sent her eldest son scurrying to bring back her children.
Johanna’s shoulders drooped. She’d have to walk to the wagons tonight and leave early enough the next morning to arrive in time for the midday meal.
And I’ll have to drag my brothers with me. Through the forest. Again.
Cook’s face wrinkled with concern. “What do you need, miss? What can I help you with?”
The amount of dishes and pots and pans was daunting, and even though it would make her journey stretch even later into the night, Johanna wanted to help. These people had been good to her. She reached for the next dish. “Nothing. It’s just that I’ll probably need to get home before too long.”
“Out with you! Performers don’t clean anyway.” Cook pushed Johanna toward the kitchen door. “You go and get some rest.”
When Cook wouldn’t relent, Johanna changed into her hunting clothes. She slung her satchel over her back, waved good night to the gate guards, and walked into the woods.
Johanna wasn’t afraid of the forest at night. The animals created their own music of rustles and chirps. The cicadas and crickets added the descant, and the three-quarter moon danced on a stage lit by stars. It was peaceful, and Johanna needed to enjoy the calm as she intended to raise hell when she got home.
A titi, its white face a bright splash in the shadows, scolded her from one of the trees. The little monkey hooted and chittered, protecting its family, till she was far beyond its territory.
Animals instinctively knew how to care for their young. How could her mother have forgotten? What had happened? How does a respected Performer fall so far?
Johanna cringed at that turn of phrase. She’d seen her father fall. One instant off balance had sent him to his death. But her mother’s condition, self-inflicted as it was, had sent them all tumbling. If Marin had been sober the day the Performers’ Council ruled, maybe she could have convinced them to let the family stay.
Johanna had kept that nugget of anger close to her heart, carrying it with her for all these months without saying anything, and it had finally worn a hole she couldn’t ignore.
Perhaps if Johanna hadn’t been completely wrapped up in how the scene with her mother would play out, she would have heard the horse hooves before they were too close.
Chapter 52
Pira
The three remaining sentries built themselves a large fire at the head of the trail. The night had cooled, but not enough to warrant such a blaze, so it seemed they were trying to remind their visitors of their presence.
It also served as an easy way to identify each of their positions.
Pira snuck through the trees and rocks that bordered the trail, watching as two of the men tossed blades between them with practiced precision. She hated to be impressed, but she was. A little. Even with her excellent eyesight, she could barely make out the gleam of the metal in the firelight. The men seemed to know exactly where each blade would land and continued the pattern, making a rhythmic hiss and thump as blades slapped their palms.
She made no noise, not even crunching the dry leaves underfoot, and yet the third man turned away from the fire and his friends. Pira froze, feeling his eyes on her. He stopped a stone’s throw from the tree where she had hurriedly crouched.
“James, whatcha doing?” one of the men asked, continuing to toss his blade without hesitation.
The man shifted his weight, stones grinding under his feet. “I thought I heard something.” He took a tentative step toward Pira’s position.
“A squirrel, probably.”
In the light of the waning moon, Pira saw confusion on James’s face. He looked around, studying the shadows right over her head. After a moment he rubbed his forehead and turned back to his friends.
“Maybe it was a skunk. They creep around at night sometimes.”
Pira waited till she was sure the sentry was distracted before moving down the hill, through the farmland, and to the tents and wagons. The shadows of the bonfires danced along each home’s sides, bobbing and swaying to the cacophony of instruments and voices. Even after dark they were still violent with colors and pattern.
There was something about the camp and its dwellers that felt almost wild with activity. People danced and sang and flipped and shouted, while children darted between wagons, chasing dogs or walking on their hands. Even the small cluster of farm animals seemed a little too unsettled in their pens; they paced and munched. And bleated in Pira’s direction.
She moved away from the goats, hugging the sides of the manger—one of the few permanent, wood-framed buildings in the entire valley. There were other low-roofed cottages and barns, but she’d bet her best pair of boots that the two-story hall at the center of camp was where this so-called “council” met.
Pira hoped to sneak close to the building and listen to their conversation. They’d have to say something about Arlo and his family. If she was lucky, they might reveal where the princess was hiding.
The wagons and tents were laid out in orderly spokes, radiating from the hall. She’d have to work her way around the circle, keeping low to the ground and hugging the shadows, moving slightly inward when the chance presented itself. She darted to a stable, and from there to a large chicken coop.
Scouting out her next move, she saw a small cottage with herbs drying above a railed porch. The door to the cottage swung open, and a cloth-shrouded shape stepped onto the porch. The person’s head—Pira couldn’t tell if it was male or female—turned in her direction.
“Come out, come out, little Keeper!” a wavering voice called. “I’ve been waiting for you all day. And bring that pretty boy with you. He’s on the other side of the coop.”
Pira peeked around the corner and watched as a long shadow detached itself from the coop’s back wall.
“Are you coming?” Leão asked as he walked past her.
Chapter 53
Rafi
“What is wrong with you?” Johanna shouted as she dusted off her clothes. “Don’t you know how stupid it is to gallop your horse down a dark trail? Feel free to break your own neck, but don’t break mine!”
“You’re dressed in dark colors. I didn’t see you till I was almost on top of you.” Rafi slid out of his saddle and picked up Johanna’s satchel, which had sailed into the nearby bushes. “Breaker wouldn’t have run you down.”
Rafi had returned to the dining hall, hoping to get to the bottom of his uncle’s mysterious words, only to find his mother in a panic.
“Go now. Use the gate on the south side of the estate to avoid drawing any attention. There’s only one guard on that part of the wall.” Lady DeSilva had practically shoved him out the door that opened onto the yard. “Find Johanna and make sure she’s safe.”
Rafi wanted to argue, but there had been real urgency in his mother’s tone and he jumped to obey.
He’d saddled Breaker without calling a groom, then led the horse behind the barn to keep them hidden from view. He rode hard, both because it was what his mother wanted him to do and because it felt good.
The stars and moonlight had been enough for Breaker to make his way safely down the well-known trail, but neither of them had expected Johanna to appear out of the darkness.
He held out her bag, but the strap was broken. “It looks like your satchel didn’t survive the fall unscathed.”
“Neither did my hand.” She held her scraped palm up for him to see. Blood ran down her pale skin and disappeared into the sleeve of her tunic.
Rafi’s gut clenched like he was anticipating a kick to his midsection. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make sure you were safe.”
“A lot of good you’ve done me.” She rolled her hand up in the hem of her shirt and held it tight against her chest. “Whenever you’re around, I seem destined for injury.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Johanna snorted and started down the trail toward the orchard.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m trying to get as much distance from you as possible,” she said without stopping.
“I’m supposed to bring you back to the estate with me.”
“Ha! I won’t go anywhere with you willingly.”
Has there ever been a girl so stubborn and pigheaded in the history of Santarem? She marched along a dark forest trail, head held high, a slight limp in her gait, but with no concern whatsoever about things lurking in the shadows.
“Johanna, don’t be stupid about this.” Rafi jogged to catch up with her; Breaker followed as he was trained to do. Rafi grabbed her uninjured arm, pulling her to a stop.
She shook off his grip. “Are you going to throw me across your saddle if I won’t agree to ride with you? Is that the kind of man you are, Lord Rafael?”
“No,” Rafi said, shocked at her words. “Never.”
“Then let me go.” She turned for the trail again, but this time her back was hunched and her limp more pronounced.
Rafi felt sick, like that blow he’d been expecting had landed. She looked so pitiful and small, dwarfed by the trees.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
What choice did Rafi have? He mounted Breaker and trotted after Johanna. Giving her a bit of space, but still close enough to protect her if any danger was going to present itself.
She ignored him. The sound of her scuffling footsteps and Breaker’s hoofbeats made him uncomfortable. He started to talk, hoping the sound of his voice would loosen the knot
s that coiled in his chest.
“It’s a nice night. The days still hold plenty of summer heat, but it cools off in the evenings.”
She ignored him and picked up her pace.
“Soon the leaves will start changing and this whole forest will look like it’s on fire.”
He continued on, speaking about the weather and the lack of hunting, and finally shifting to the drought and the state of the farms. Saying it all aloud, hearing the words float off into the night—rather than in whispered conversations with his mother and private meetings with his other advisors—was a pleasant change. He aired his worries about his people not having enough to eat and being forced to import commodities from surrounding states.
“I know Inimigo will sell to me at a good price. He’s willing to do anything to secure a better relationship between our states, but I hate the idea of trading with him.” Then without thinking, he admitted the thing that weighed on him the most. “I wish my father were here.”
Embarrassment and sadness choked Rafi, and he couldn’t say anything else for a few moments. He slid the reins between his fingers, noticing the rough spots where he’d bent and looped the leather over and over again. That too reminded him of his father.
“Me too.”
He cleared his throat. “My father always knew exactly how to handle every situation. There was never a question about his honor, and no one doubted his decisions were the right ones. I’ll never be as good of a duke as he was.” He laughed humorlessly. “I’ve already made such a mess.”
Chapter 54
Johanna
“My father always said it wasn’t how you started, but how you finished that really mattered.” Johanna felt a twinge of sympathy. She understood the weight of responsibility, how it could bow your back with worries and clutter your mind so you couldn’t think of anything else, and Rafi had many more people depending on him.
“I liked your father,” Rafi said quietly. “His stories were a good balance to your mother’s beautiful voice.”
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