by Trudi Jaye
“She says she wants to stop feeling dead inside,” Rilla said, leaning forward. “That’s huge. I just want to make sure we can really fix that by sorting out her leg. Maybe it’s something more.”
Garth shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’d know.” Garth guarded the Mark rule more than anyone else. The Gift was an emotional rollercoaster at the best of times, but it was multiplied tenfold for him. If something bad happened to the Mark while Garth was still in their head, it affected him almost as much as it did the Mark.
“I agree,” Blago spoke for the first time. “I used to be pretty good at running these things in my day. Had a knack for them, you might say. And this girl, despite being on a dragon, she’s pretty simple. She wants to have her old leg back, like it used to be.”
“You don’t think she’s suffering inside, Garth?” Rilla said carefully, ignoring Blago.
“She’s hurting; of course she is. But it doesn’t feel complex. It’s a single layer of hurt, and I think much of it can be sorted by helping her with a new leg.” Garth’s eyes flickered for a second and he smiled softly to himself.
Rilla swore under her breath. She just wasn’t as good at managing Garth in this state as her father had been. He was high on the connection, and his judgment wasn’t as sound as usual. She looked around the table. She didn’t see any support from anyone else. In fact, they all seemed to be avoiding looking at her.
Something was up. “All right, what is it?” she said.
No one answered. Rilla glared around the table, stopping at Christoph, who shook his head slightly. He wasn’t going to be the one. She turned to Viktor. She knew she could count on the Thrillmaster to tell her straight. “Out with it.”
“We got the numbers from the last couple of nights off the tickets boys.” Viktor’s voice was slow.
“And?”
“They’re not good.” Viktor glanced around at the others and took a breath. “We’re struggling, Rilla. We gotta do something… fast. Martha being poisoned, the low attendance, and now this article. It’s all stacking up.”
“It’s nothing against you, Rilla. We know you love the Carnival,” Tami interrupted, her eyes bathed with concern.
Viktor glared at Tami for a moment then turned back to Rilla. “You’ve lost your problem-solving talent. You’re missing things, not making sense. I know it’s grief over your da, and I understand, Rilla. We all do. You need space, but we just don’t have time to give it to you. This Gift is do or die, for all of us. Every moment we linger, the closer the Carnival is to full collapse. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Viktor took a breath and gestured toward Blago. “Blago here is willing to take over as Ringmaster at any time. You pull out of the race, and we’ll have ourselves a new leader.”
The air froze in Rilla’s lungs and stars danced in front of her eyes. Her bones felt loose, like rubber, and she heard a rushing sound in her ears. Of all the things she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. At least not yet. She’d thought they’d at least give her a fair attempt to prove herself. She stared at Jack. He’d done his work well, sewing the seeds of doubt. They expected her to roll over and play dead.
Don’t let them see what they’re doing to you, girl. You’re better than this. Give your poker face and get out of there. Live to fight another day.
Rilla stood. She cleared her throat and gazed at the familiar faces in front of her, pain biting through her chest. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I will not give up my birthright, and I can’t believe you’re asking me to. I was born to be Ringmaster. I will never give in, not until the Carnival has made its final judgment. No one—not the Nine, not any one of you—can make me give that up.”
She stalked to the door and then turned. “Instead of derailing the contest for Ringmaster, we should be focusing on whoever is maliciously sabotaging the Carnival. That’s what’s causing our problems. That’s what’s brought the dragon Gift to us.” She looked over at Blago and Jack, glaring at them with narrowed eyes. “These two have turned up at a mighty convenient time. My father was suspicious of them, and I am, too. They’ve done a good job of poisoning you all against my claim to Ringmaster in the short time they’ve been here, too. We should be on our guard against them, not inviting them into our caravans and asking them to lead our Carnival.”
Without a second glance at their solemn faces, she stormed out the door and into the night.
***
Rilla curled up in a ball, holding her arms tight around her legs. She pushed her face into her knees and tried to block out the distant sounds of the Carnival. The familiar smells of the animal enclosure where she was hiding did nothing to ease the heavy ache in her chest.
What if they were right? What if Blago would be the better Ringmaster?
Her father had always told her she could do it, and she’d believed him. But right now, without his comforting presence, she felt small and incapable. Even worse, she knew Viktor was right. She’d been off her game. She was missing the patterns, unable to see what was happening around them. It had always been what kept them from going under, her ability to catch a problem before it escalated.
She wasn’t sure if her father’s death was an accident, and there was a gaping hole in her ability to read Jack. That kind of uncertainty was alien to her.
What if it was to do with her father’s death? Had her talents died with him? Who would she be if she couldn’t solve the Carnival’s problems? Her breath came in small gasps and the tears resumed their trails down her already-blotchy face.
He shouldn’t have died. It wasn’t right.
How was she supposed to do everything on her own? She didn’t know how to adjust to this newly tilted version of her world. She should have had time to slowly work her way into her father’s boots, to figure out where she fit in the scheme of things. Instead, she was being forced headlong into a race that she didn’t know if she should win, let alone could win.
How was she supposed to fill her father’s boots? She wasn’t big enough, strong enough, Jolly enough. She banged her fist against the hard, wooden stall gate then sobbed hot, angry tears as pain jolted down her wrist.
In the stall next to her, Rick, their prize Arabian stallion, snuffled along the wooden barrier, trying to figure out who was making so much noise beside him. He was a simple fellow, Rick. He lived life for the next apple, and normally she’d have made sure she turned up with an offering.
Today, she’d been too intent on escape.
She held her breath when she heard voices coming her way. It was a couple of the stable hands chatting as they walked by.
“You see him?”
“What, at the parade? Nah, heard the story. He got right to it. Helped Alfie out no end, they say.”
“While she just stood up the front, wondering what to do.”
“Ah, well, it weren’t her fault.”
“Maybe. The question is can she keep it runnin’ like her ol’ man?”
“Nah, no one like her old man. Not for running the show.”
Despite the numbness running along her body, Rilla almost snorted. She had been running the show for years. Her father had been the one people trusted, the one they came to with their problems, but when it came to actually fixing the problems, he handed it over to her.
She knew she could run the Carnival. But could she be the face of it, the one people looked up to and trusted to keep it going?
Keep your head up, girl. Positive attitude, positive outcome.
He’d always been one for slogans. Her father always knew the right thing to say. Blago wouldn’t have stood a chance against him. Not for a moment.
He’d have had them all excited and exhilarated about running a dragon Gift, too, like it was a privilege instead of the perilous ride to certain doom that Garth and Viktor seemed to think they were on.
She’d tried; she really had. But she’d underestimated Jack and Blago and the lengths they’d go in the race for Ringmaster. Naively, she’d assumed
they’d act honorably and leave it to the Carnival to decide. She wondered if Jack even realized how it worked. He’d certainly tried to circumvent the usual process.
She sighed and rubbed one hand across her face. At the end of the day, it wasn’t the people of the Carnival who decided the next Ringmaster. It was the Carnival itself. They gave their lives to it, and in return, it took care of them and showed them the best way forward. Or at least it was supposed to.
When something wasn’t right inside the Carnival, like now, when the world wasn’t balanced, that was when things started going wrong. That was when someone could make trouble and the Carnival couldn’t stop it, because its power was too depleted and its magic didn’t work properly. It simply couldn’t see who was to blame. When that happened, it was up to the Carnival’s people to protect it from harm.
What was the word? Symbiotic. That was the nature of their bond with the Carnival. The stronger they were, the stronger the Carnival was. And the stronger the Carnival was, the stronger it made them. Her abilities were weaker than they’d ever been; that much she knew. There was too much out of balance.
Did that mean they were right? Should she let Blago take over as Ringmaster? Would he be able to fight for the Carnival better than she could?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack looked around at the rest of the Nine. Rilla had made a tactical error when she left. Now was their chance to really ram it home. Why wasn’t he happier about it?
His gut twisted when he thought of all the work he’d been doing against her claim.
He knew why he wasn’t happy.
When they’d talked in her caravan, she’d opened up to him. He’d even kissed her, fool that he was. Then he’d used her own words against her, convincing everyone she really didn’t want to be Ringmaster. And he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye since.
He told himself he was helping her in the long run. She wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility of being Ringmaster; a sharp pain now would make her happier down the track. In fact, he’d been so sure he was right that he’d been surprised at the vehemence of her denial just now. He’d expected hesitation, some room for doubt about her position in the race.
He shifted uncomfortably. Her passion and intensity were making him doubt himself. He shook his head to clear it and took a breath. He needed to think about this logically.
She’d just suggested he was guilty of some kind of sabotage, which was a ridiculous claim and showed her judgment was compromised. Besides, she was young; she’d recover. Blago had lived a life in exile from the Carnival, and now Jack was going to make sure his dad returned to the place where he belonged. That started right here.
“I’d just like to say here and now that we are not, and have never been, part of any sabotage against the Carnival,” said Jack, looking around at each of the Nine, meeting their eyes and trying to will them to believe him.
There was a pause.
“Well, you’re not likely to admit to it, are you, love?” said Tami, the Foodmaster.
He opened his mouth to reply then snapped it closed. She was right. He glanced at Blago. Heaving a sigh, his father stood up, pushed in his chair, and leaned on it with both hands. His face was serious, the lined features catching the light and shadows, making him look older.
“Most of you know me from when we were kids, and those who don’t can ask your parents about me. I’ve done some stupid things in my life, and we all know the worst one. Stopping the Gift wasn’t one of my finest moments, but I was in love and that makes everyone do stupid things.
“Rilla, she doesn’t know me, and her da, he had reason to be suspicious of everyone around him with the way things have been going here at the Carnival. But I can promise you now, by my oath on the Carnival itself, we are not part of the troubles and we have not been causing them.”
There was a heavy silence. Garth stared at Blago with his unblinking black eyes, focused on some internal rhythm. “You’re swearing on the Carnival? You know the penalty?”
Blago nodded. “Of course.”
“Then open your mind to me, and I will begin.” Garth’s eyes blazed darker, like the light had been sucked out.
Blago stiffened, and his hands went white where they clutched the chair. Jack half-stood, worried his father was having another heart attack.
“Sit down, Jack,” said Viktor. “Your father agreed to the ritual, and he needs to submit fully or it won’t work. You can’t do anything to help him.”
Jack sat back down. Minutes passed, and he grew increasingly agitated. Garth was swaying and sweat ran down the side of his face. He looked like he was about to pass out. Blago wasn’t much better, the lines on his face digging in deeper than usual.
And then it was over. Garth blinked and the light came back into his blackened eyes. He licked his lips, and nodded slowly. “It’s not disagreeing with Blago’s assertion. The Carnival says Blago is telling the truth. To a point.”
Blago sighed with relief next to Jack.
“To a point?” Viktor’s voice was sharp.
“There’s a locked door. Something they’re not telling us.” Garth regarded Blago and Jack with raised eyebrows. Jack looked at his father, who shrugged. Blago had obviously managed to keep his health issues hidden.
“People always have their secrets, son,” Blago shrugged. “I’m not going to lay my whole life bare, and neither would you. Does the Carnival say we’re responsible for the sabotage? That’s what’s important.”
Garth shook his head. “With regards to the sabotage, the Carnival doesn’t believe it’s Jack or Blago, based on being inside Blago’s head.” He glanced at Viktor. “The Carnival isn’t infallible, but it sees far more than us.”
Jack frowned. Garth was talking about the Carnival like it was a person again. They all talked about it like that, but previously he’d assumed it was a colloquial way of speaking about the group. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
He’d had to accept a lot since he arrived. He’d witnessed things that shouldn’t have happened, creatures that shouldn’t have existed, heard stories that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t sure if he could take on any more.
“Thanks, Garth,” his father was saying. “I appreciate the effort it costs you, being in the middle of a Gift.”
“It was for all of us, Blago. We have to know who we have in our midst. Friend or foe.”
“What do we do about Rilla? She was genuinely upset.” Tami leaned forward.
“We leave her for a while. She’ll be too angry to listen at the moment anyway. Just like her da when she gets riled up.” Christoph gave a small smile at the memory of Abacus.
“Is she the right person to be working on the Gift? If she’s riled up?” Viktor asked softly. “This dragon Mark has to play out right, we don’t have a choice.”
Jack only just managed to stop the grin that itched to spread across his face. Viktor was working right into their hands.
“She knows what she’s doing,” said Garth softly. “You all know that. Abacus was all hot air and bluff. Rilla’s the brains. Always has been.” He looked like he had to force himself to concentrate on the conversation. Jack wondered how often he was inside the Mark’s head. Was he listening to her thoughts right now?
Viktor lifted one palm toward Garth. “I’m not saying she should pull out altogether. And we misjudged her on wanting out of the Ringmaster position.” He glanced at Jack. “But she could do with a break, surely? Her father just died. Dragon or no, sabotage or no, she’s suffered a big loss. She’s on her own.”
“Except for her mother and her brother,” said Tami. “And us. We’re her family.”
Brother? Mother? Jack looked at Tami, but her face didn’t give away anything more.
“You know what I mean. It’s not like she ever sees her mother.” Viktor turned to Christoph. “What do you think, Chris? Do you want to talk to her? Tell her we’ll sort this one out?”
Christoph blew a burst of air through his lips, making his mustache ha
irs raise. He raised his eyebrows at Viktor. “How do you think she’ll take that, given her reaction just now, Viktor? You want to kick her off the Gift, you tell her yourself.” He crossed his arms over his big chest and glared at Viktor beneath shaggy eyebrows.
“I’ll talk to her.” Garth’s voice held a peculiar tone, like it was layered with extra meaning. His eyes seemed to have deepened since he proclaimed them innocent of sabotage. It spooked Jack and made him avoid eye contact. There was too much swirling around below the surface here, too much he didn’t understand. Yesterday, he might have asked Rilla to explain. Not anymore.
Garth paused by the door, his eyes seeing everything and nothing all at once. “Meanwhile, Jack and Blago, you both need to think about what it is you’re hiding from us. Because Blago won’t make Ringmaster with that floating over his head, whatever any of us think about it.”
***
“Rilla.” Garth’s voice was distant, despite the fact that he was standing just outside the stable door. She knew how hard it was for him to keep a handle on what was going on at this stage of the Gift.
Especially a difficult one.
But that wasn’t her problem right now. “Go away, Garth. Leave me be.”
“Stop sulking and get out here. Your father raised you better than that.” His voice sharpened, and the real Garth returned for a moment.
She smiled slightly. At least he was bossing her around again. “Fine. Keep your hat on.” She stood, brushing the hay from her pants and hair. Opening the latch, she peered around, steeling herself to see anyone other than Garth. But he was alone. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“What are you doing? If you really want to be Ringmaster, you can’t run away and hide when you hit a speed bump. You have to prove you’re your father’s daughter.” He glared at her, his expression even more foreboding when his eyes were black.
Rilla couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You give the worst motivational speeches,” she said.
Garth’s mouth twisted into a ghost of a smile. “You know what I mean, Rilla. You need to get yourself sorted if you’re going to have a chance against Blago.”