The Storyspinner (26 page)

Chapter 75

Johanna

Rafi had lost his Keeper-cursed mind. She dismounted by herself, shaking off his help, and headed toward the bushes where she
thought
he’d tossed her bag.

“Do you have any idea what that cape cost? It’s not like I have an eternal stock of powders and props, unless I go to Performers’ Camp and purchase more.” She swatted away a thistle bush. “And not only that, but my cape was specially made by mother as a wedding gift for my father. I can’t believe you just—”

She turned from her search to find Rafi standing right behind her, the satchel hanging from his outstretched fingers.

“I threw it next to that walnut tree, and I’m sure you’ll find it still serviceable.” There was no levity in his words, no smile on his face, as if he hadn’t played some mindless joke. “I have several similar satchels and you can pick a new one tomorrow, or I’ll buy you one if none of mine are satisfactory.”

Johanna had the oddest sensation that her skin had shrunk, compressing her breath, her movement, even her thoughts. “Rafi, what’s wrong?”

He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at him. The evening stars crowned his dark head with pinpoints of light, casting a shadow over his eyes. The effect was stunning, highlighting his straight nose and full mouth. The memory of his hands at her waist, of the way her arms fell naturally at his biceps, made her stomach quiver.

“What happened with Belem today . . .” He hesitated and pushed the satchel into her arms. “I think—and my mother does too—that it was just the beginning of the danger you’re in.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “That’s ridiculous. I’m certain no other lord will corner me in the forest, except perhaps you, and be . . . and try . . .” She waved her hand, hoping he’d finish the sentence. “I seem to have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps I should take Thomas’s advice and stay out of the woods.”

“Probably, but it’s more than that.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the curls. “Johanna, has anyone ever told you that you look like Wilhelm’s queen?”

“No.” She shook her head, hoping the movement would loosen all the parts of her that had grown uncomfortably tight. “Why would they? My mother says I look exactly like
her
mother. My hair, my eyes, my build, everything.”

“Did you ever meet your grandmother?”

“She died years before I was born.”

He nodded, as if this was confirmation of something she didn’t understand. “Give me a moment to explain before you interrupt.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Someone has been hunting girls who match your description: dark haired, pale eyed, beautiful. Fernando told me that two girls have been murdered in Impreza this year, and we’ve heard rumors of other similar murders. All the girls bore a resemblance to the dead queen.

“The issue is that my mother—who was a close friend to Queen Christiana—sees the resemblance in you. There’s something about your eyes and the way you talk that my mother can’t ignore. You’re exactly the age of Wilhelm’s daughter. Your father had a very close relationship with the king, perhaps even as his spy. ‘The Survivor of Roraima’ was a story that came from Performers’ Camp. It may have originated with your father, and could have been based on his escape—”

“Stop!” She shoved his hands off her shoulders, and then followed with a push to his chest. “My father was not a spy. He was an acrobat and a storyteller. He traveled
everywhere
. Not just to Roraima. I was born at Performers’ Camp. I. Am. A. Performer.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you.” He reached for her hands, trying to soothe her. “There are others, dukes like Belem and Inimigo, and Mother Lua only knows how many others, who will look at you and see a threat—as someone who could make a bid for the throne of Santarem and shatter their plans to take it for themselves.”

“But it’s not true!”

“They don’t care. Inimigo fought a war for ten years, and only quit when his army was depleted. Do you think that after all of that, one more life would make a difference to him?”

Johanna backed away from him, backed away from his words, backed away from the doubts that surged into her mind.

Why don’t I look like my brothers? Why can’t I sing like my mother? Why do I have to work twice as hard at everything that comes to them so naturally?

She only got a few steps before her hip collided with a tree. She slid down the trunk, tucking her knees to her chest. “I’m not the princess.”

Rafi sat on the ground beside her, his shoulder against her knee. “That may be true, but until the threat has passed, I’ll keep you safe. If you move closer to my estate, we’ll be able to keep guards around you and your family.”

“For how long? For a year? For ten years?” She took a breath, but her lungs wouldn’t expand. “Till Inimigo gives up? Till Belem dies?”

He cupped one of her knees and gave it a gentle shake. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him you’re not who he thinks you are.”

“Because I’m not. I’m just a Performer girl, who wants to live a Performer life.”

“I’m not sure I believe that either.”

Her forehead crumpled. “Why not?”

“When people talk about you, they do it with a sense of awe.” Rafi’s hand moved from her knee to her arm. “You are so much more than
just
a Performer.”

No obligation, no lingering debt of honor, made him say those words. His tone was warm, not forced or faked.

Johanna leaned into his touch, wanting more contact, to feel his mouth over hers. She took a deep breath, expecting the scent of wood and leather that lingered on his skin, but all she smelled was smoke.

She turned toward her family’s camp. “Rafi . . .” She bolted to her feet. “Look!”

Above the trees, licking the night sky with tongues of yellow and orange, were flames. They shot and twisted in the breeze, sending sparks into the orchard.

“The wagons!” she shouted, sprinting down the forest road.

Chapter 76

Rafi

She stuck to his back like a tick, holding tight to his body, her breath rasping in his ear. They rode Breaker faster than any sane person would have.

The horse pulled up short when they neared the smoke-filled orchard. Breaker whinnied and pranced, but Johanna leaped off his back and ran ahead.

Then she tripped and tumbled, disappearing out of sight.

Her name burst from Rafi’s lips as he followed at a dead run, nearly falling over the same obstacle.

Captain Alouette.

Four arrows protruded from his chest, one more from his neck. His eyes were open, but their glazed surface didn’t see anything around him. His sword still hung at his hip.

Ambush.
Rafi crouched, keeping his head low, and drew the dead man’s sword.

He heard Johanna’s voice, keening for her mother and brothers. She ran toward the wagons, both of which were burning.

As Rafi passed Alouette’s body, the roof of the farthest wagon collapsed inward, tearing at the air with the screams of wood.

Johanna threw her arms over her head, protecting it from the bits of flaming lumber that fell like rain around them.

“Mama!” She spun in a circle, searching for any sign of her family. “Joshua! Michael! Thomas!”

“There!” A dark mound blocked the trail leaving the clearing. Rafi ran past her, ducking under the low branches of a massive mango tree.

He dropped to his knees, skidding across the dirt, and stopped next to the body.
Bodies,
he realized, as he rolled Dom onto his side. Joshua lay underneath the younger lord, and even in the half light, Rafi could make out their blood-blackened clothes.

“Dom,” Rafi whispered, sliding his fingers up his brother’s torso. They came away warm and sticky. He reached for his brother’s neck and found the flutter of a pulse. Rafi ripped his vest over his head and pressed it against his brother’s chest, trying to stem the blood flow from a wound he couldn’t see.

Chapter 77

Johanna

This isn’t real. This is a nightmare.
Joshua’s hands were cold, his face a white smear in the smoke-filled darkness. She felt his ribs rise and fall, his body shuddering against her legs.

“Josh,” she whispered. She turned him over, and he cried out against the pain. “Where does it hurt?”

She wished she hadn’t spoken when she saw the sword wound that crossed him from shoulder to hip.
Oh Keepers, save him. Mother Lua, make this bleeding stop.

“Jo?” His voice was soft; blood bubbled across his lips.

“Shh, Josh. Don’t talk. Everything’s going to be fine.” She pulled her Storyspinner’s cloak from her satchel and covered his abdomen.

“I wanted to be brave,” he mumbled.

She leaned against the worst part of the wound, but his blood soaked through the layers of the cloak instantly.

“I saw what happened today in the woods. I saw him knock you down.”

“Hush, Joshua. Don’t try to speak.” She folded the cloak again, pressing her body weight against the gash, but it didn’t make a difference. Her hands were wet; his face was gray.

He covered her hand on his stomach. “Michael.”

Johanna’s eyes searched the darkness, praying all the while that she wouldn’t see another body lying somewhere in the distance.

Joshua’s lips moved, but he didn’t make any sound. She leaned close, putting her ear against his mouth.

“Mmmm . . . safe.” He gasped once, then all the air wheezed out of his lungs.

“Joshua?” She knew, but didn’t want to believe. She touched his mouth, feeling for breath. Touched his chest, but felt no heartbeat. “Josh. No, no, no, no.”

A hand closed on her arm; she shook it away. She knelt over her brother, pressing her forehead to his. Her tears pooled in the hollows below Joshua’s eyes and dripped off the sides of his face.

“Wake up, Josh,” she whispered to his still form. “Wake up.”

“Johanna.” The grip returned, fingers digging into both of her arms. “We have to go. Whoever did this could still be out there.”

“Let me go. I can’t leave him like this!” She tried to shake free. “He’s my little brother. I’ve always, always protected him. I have to stay with him.”

Rafi pulled harder, dragging her backward. “You can’t do anything for him now—”

She turned quickly, slashing her fingernails down Rafi’s cheek. He let go for a second, enough time for her to crawl back to her brother’s side.

Then Rafi was on her again, grabbing her forcefully, restraining her arms, hauling her backward against his chest.

Chapter 78

Rafi

Rafi hated to manhandle her. Hated the way she kicked and flailed, hated the way she used her nails against him like talons, tearing at his throat, making his face bleed. He had sworn he’d never do anything to hurt her again, but he had no choice. Tossing her over his shoulder, he pinned one of her arms awkwardly around his neck and tried to stop her from kicking him in the chest and thighs.

They had to find Breaker and ride back to the estate. He didn’t believe Dom would still be alive when he returned, but he had to give it his best shot and he couldn’t leave Johanna behind if murderers were still in the woods.

Rafi ran as fast as he could under her weight, calling and whistling for Breaker.

A horse whinnied and another answered. Dom’s and Alouette’s mounts had taken off through the woods toward home. Perhaps when someone saw the riderless horses, they would send soldiers out to investigate. He prayed someone was already on their way.

Johanna finally stopped fighting, but he could feel her sobbing, head down against his back.

He shifted positions so he could cradle her in his arms. She tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder and locked her arms around his neck.

I failed her again.

In that moment of inattention four shadows detached themselves from the side of the trail. They were tall, taller even than Rafi. The planes of their faces were painted golden by the flickering firelight of the still-burning wagon.

Rafi had never seen them before and knew they weren’t there to help.

“Put the girl down,” the man in the lead commanded. He held a sword pointed at Rafi. Two people behind him held bows at ready.

“You can’t have her.” Rafi clutched her tighter, his heart hammering against his ribs. Could he take on four? They all wore boiled-leather armor and handled their weapons like soldiers. There was no way. No way he could defend her and survive, but maybe he could give her time to run.

“Johanna,” he said, his lips against her brow. “Run. Run to the Milners’ house. Run for help.”

She stiffened in his arms. Her gray eyes searched his as he set her on her feet.

“I don’t think so.” She whirled in his arms, a dagger flying free of her sleeve and out of her hands instantly. It caught the closest soldier in the shoulder, and he grunted in surprise.

She flipped another dagger into the air, catching it lightly in her palm.

“This is for my brothers.” She sprinted toward the surprised group, holding the dagger like a sword.

Rafi drew his own weapon and waded into the fray. He’d barely raised it to block the first blow when something hit him in the head.

The trail rushed toward him. He saw dirt. Then he saw nothing.

Chapter 79

Leão

“What happened here?” Leão asked as he surveyed the scene. The fire from the Performer’s wagon was spreading to the trees. He raised a hand and sent a burst of wind to blow it out. It didn’t stop the wagon from smoldering, but at least the entire forest wouldn’t go up in flames.

He’d used the same power, a thick rope of air, to knock out both the boy and the girl. They’d fallen almost on top of each other. Her head rested against his back as if she’d been using it as a pillow.

“Ambush, obviously,” Tex said, as he held a swath of linen against Jacaré’s shoulder. “At least six mounted men, and there’s something about the way that fire is burning. Doesn’t feel natural.”

“Six mounted men who may be on their way back when they realize they didn’t get the girl.” Jacaré’s tone was harsh. “Pira, get the horses. See if you can find an extra to carry the princess. We’ll travel faster if we don’t have to ride double.”

Leão started forward, his hand held toward Jacaré’s wounded shoulder. “Do you want me to heal that?”

“No. Check the camp for survivors, not that I expect there will be any. Then see if you can determine which way the attackers fled or who sent them.” He let Tex wrap a strip of cloth around the wound. “Leave things as they lie. The boy won’t remember much of this in the morning, and we don’t want to give anyone a reason to come after us.”

“You don’t think they’ll chase us when they realize she’s missing?” Leão asked as he hurried toward the camp.

“We’ll cover our tracks and make sure the attackers’ are clear. They’ll have no reason to follow us.”

Leão jogged into the smoke-filled camp, avoiding the body of a man pincushioned with arrows, assessing the scene as he went. The windows on the still-standing wagon had shattered, and the door had been barricaded shut before the fire had been lit. Someone had died in that blaze.

If only they’d arrived a half hour sooner.

They’d pushed the horses to lameness and to foaming, and even with healing they’d ridden four mounts to death. It had been an awful thing, to feel the animals give up their will to live. Without the horse’s own energy to assist in recovery, Leão could do nothing for them.

The replacements they stole—there hadn’t even been enough time to pay for them—wouldn’t last much longer if they kept up the pace.

And neither will I.

The weariness had sunk into Leão’s bones, making every part of him ache like he’d been trampled in a stampede. The constant riding, the lack of sleep, the drain on his
essência
wasn’t at all what he’d expected when he’d agreed to follow Jacaré over the wall. None of his training had prepared him for what he’d seen and done.

He followed the footprints, past the second wagon and into the trees beyond. He heard a whimper. It was a quiet sound, easy for him to have ignored if the tracks hadn’t led directly to it.

Two bodies lay side by side beneath a mango tree, and stationed between them was a crying child. His face smeared with ash and dirt, his eyes swollen from the smoke. He sat with arms locked around his knees, rocking back and forth.

“Boy,” Leão said, holding out his hands, showing that he was unharmed. “I’m here to help.”

The child didn’t listen, bolting to his feet and climbing the tree as fast as a monkey with a panther on its tail. Even Leão, with all his speed, wasn’t quick enough to catch the boy before he disappeared into the branches.

“Come down. I can help you.”

There was no response beyond panicked breathing and the rustle of the wind through the trees.

What horrors the child must have seen. It was no wonder he was frightened.

Stooping, Leão checked the pulse of the two bodies on the ground. The smaller was already cold; the blood pooled around it was too much for anyone to have survived. The second body was still warm and . . .

Leão pressed his hand against the chest, feeling a faint heartbeat. It was weak, fading under his touch. It was an impulsive decision, more instinct than thought. He’d been trained to take life, but also to save it whenever possible. And with this boy, it was still possible.

His
essência
sought out the wounds, binding the horrible injuries, knitting flesh and organ and tendon back to its original form. His arms started to vibrate, the muscles shaking beneath his skin; his back spasmed violently with the effort to stay upright.

Completely drained, on the verge of blackout, Leão felt the chest rise and fall.

Thank the Light.

As he staggered to his feet, leaving the child in the tree and the bodies on the ground, Leão knew that despite his personal weakness he’d done the right thing.

“Anything?” Jacaré asked, already mounted. A lead rope had been tied between his horse and a large stallion. The girl lay limply over the animal’s neck, her wrists tied together to keep her mounted.

“They went north,” Leão managed to say without panting.

“Then we’ll head west for a while before breaking north on the main road,” Tex said, turning his horse onto a narrow trail that led into the brush.

“Can we overtake them?” Pira asked as she tossed Leão his reins. “We may be able to learn who they are and why they’ve been—”

“We don’t need to know anything else.” Jacaré followed the path Tex was taking. “Our only duty now is getting her to the wall.”

Leão missed the stirrup the first time he lifted his leg. Had it always been so far from the ground? He managed to pull himself up on the second attempt.

If Pira noticed, she didn’t say anything, sticking close behind the girl they’d searched for for so long.

With one last look, Leão peered into the darkness, wondering about the boys and hoping they would make it through the night.