2) Fold the parchment in half from point to point. The paper should appear as an isosceles triangle, to be precise.
(If you have any questions, I do not mind helping.)
To the boy I don’t care to know,
1) I did not ask for your assistance.
2) Don’t pass me notes. It’s odd.
(I refuse to get in trouble because of you…again.)
You won’t get in trouble. I promise. And we can give each other nicknames. That way, no one will know it is to you whom I’m passing notes. Though, we won’t get caught.
I’ll call you Dovie.
If you’re wondering,Why Dovie?
1) I can now only think of you whenever I fold paper doves.
2) There is a large tree outside my window with a nest in it. A tiny white dove with a scowl just like yours glares at me whenever I come near. I swear I heard it growl once.
Don’t be silly. Doves cannot scowl.
But I like this dove all the same.
Chapter 4
Ignacio
“The cheapest seat in the house is five hundred and twenty silvers,” a woman with magenta hair and a gravelly voice called down from the elevated ticket booth.
Ignacio gawked. “Five hundred and twenty bits?! For one ticket?!” He pointed beyond the entrance, toward the wagons, games, and roller coasters teeming with people. “Can’t I just enter to enjoy the sights?”
The woman shook her head while blowing a giant bubble of iridescent gum. With a single long fingernail, she pointed up toward the sign hanging above her head.
The Fun House, Giggle House, Tailor Virtuoso, Weather-Altering Tent, Siren Exhibit, Games, Treats, Foods of All Shapes and Sizes, Roller Coasters, Tonics, Ales, and All Other Unnamed Amusements are for guests with tickets to the Big Top show.
No exceptions.
Not even for handsome young men with light brown eyes and close-cut shaves.
Ignacio blinked at the last line. That was far too specific to not be speaking about him. Not that he was vain and went around thinking himself handsome. But he had caught the attention of a person or two in his day, and hedidhave light brown eyes and a close-cut shave.
Her bubble popped and glitter fluttered onto Ignacio’s shoulders and boots. Scowling, he tried to brush his clothing clean. His brows pinched together even closer than they already were when the damn glitter wouldn’t come off.
“What will it be, babe?” she inquired. “The show’s starting soon.”
“Hurry up, man!” A gentleman with cat whiskers drawn on his face called from the queue. “I caught a buggy from three towns over as soon as I heard the carnival arrived. Who knows when it’s coming back. I’m not missing my only chance at a bit of happiness because of you.”
Ignacio turned his head, eyeing the line of twenty or so people behind him. A few had on extravagant costumes with pearls and gems sewn into the seams. The hardships of war clearly hadn’t touched their homes. But the man with cat whiskers had holes in his slacks and dirt in his nails. He also favored one leg, which made Ignacio wonder if the man had suffered at the front lines of the battlefield and lived to tell the tale as well.
Memories flooded Ignacio’s senses. The screams of the dying and pops of gunfire filled his ears. The smell of blood and dirt and sweat stung his nostrils. The acidic taste of bile as he realized what he’d done.
“Señor,” the ticket agent said sweetly, pulling him out of his miserable remembrances. “Are you going to pay or not?”
Ignacio chewed on his lip. Something was off. Five hundred and twenty silvers was the exact amount he had in his coin purse. Quite literally. Not a coin or bill more. The Defiant—the small organization who dared to resist the king, the comandante, their confining laws, and the war they’d forced upon their people—had given him the sum for travel, shelter, and bribes, along with a falsified officer’s badge, while he hunted for clues to bring his father down.
How could the price of admission be that precise total?
