You’re fine.
You’re safe.
And yet, she was terrified. She would not go back to a cell. She would never feel manacles around her wrists again.
She decided not to trap herself within the Big Top tent. Just before she made it to the tunnel of mirrors, Esmeralda cut right. Shielded by costumed guests, she bolted away as fast as she could.
There was no chance she was going to let herself get caught by some weasel in a weasel mask.
Chapter 6
Ignacio
Ignacio thought he might be sick.
His fingers instinctually went to his mother’s ring. He spun it in circles around his pinky finger as his mind raced.
That voice. He knew that voice.
A single word came to mind:Impossible.
Chapter 7
Esmeralda
The screams and cheers of the Big Top crashed over Esmeralda like a tidal wave as she quickly walked through Clown Alley. The backstage area was empty of the performers, of the animals from the menagerie, of the tiny buggies used to cart in dozens of clowns, of the pesky monkey that was forever eyeing her trinkets. Not even the ringmaster’s ratas were around.
Everyone must have been inside the tent still after they performed the march of showstoppers. It was similar to the opening parade, in which the carnival performers sauntered through whatever town they arrived in to lure guests to the show. Though the march of showstoppers was much more magnificent. The energy of the crowd in one tight space heightened every sense. The costumes were bigger. The tricks were more daring. Even the popcorn smelled better.
Jealousy nipped at her. She should be in there winking and waving to awed patrons. Instead, she was scrambling through the dim shadows to get away from a weasel who probably wasn’t even looking for her.
She risked a glance over her shoulder. Her heart jolted. A figure in black stood only yards away, half hidden by a pile of empty barrels.
She clamped her hand over her mouth to seal in the scream rising in her throat.
A warm breeze swept through the alley. The figure began to flutter in the air like a ghoul. Esmeralda slowed her pace and circled around. Panting, she squinted into the twinkling dark.
It was just one of the ringmaster’s coats hanging out to dry.
A laugh escaped her. “Esmeralda, you chump. There isn’t a soul out here.”
Camila had once commented how strange it was that Esmeralda spoke to herself so often. Sometimes, Esmeralda had full-on conversations and arguments with herself. Which, to her, was completely normal. She didn’t have a sister to speak with while growing up like Camila did. She certainly didn’t have loving family members who asked her about her day.
She was an only child from a broken family of thieves. No one had paid her any mind unless they needed her to fit into a tight space, so she made do with her own company. And she thought herself to be perfectly entertaining most of the time. But if she were honest, she didn’t want to always be alone. It would be nice to find someone who wanted her. Who loved her enough to see past all the jagged edges.
Sure, she was a thief. Esmeralda knew she could be rude and arrogant. Sometimes selfish and maybe even a little rotten. But there had to besomethingworth loving inside her.
The poster hanging on the wall shifted from the handsome face of the ringmaster to a congratulatory banner.
¡Felicidades, to the eight performers chosen by Señor Veracruz!
Best of luck.
Don’t forget to smile.
Because one of you will be our brand-new muse!
Pride swelled in her chest. The ringmaster thought her worthy. Andwhenshe was selected to be his lead act, she would show everyone who had ever left her behind that they should be sorry. Someday soon she would be inside that big tent being cheered on by troves of loving fans instead of standing outside running from imaginary foes.
